THE PRECISE LOCATION OF THE center of the universe shifts from day to day; on September 9, it was the restaurant at the Regency Hotel, on Park Avenue in New York. I'd arranged a breakfast interview there with Walter Cronkite, who grew up in Houston and attended the University of Texas before embarking on a long career in journalism that included nineteen years as the anchor of the CBS Evening News.
texasmonthly.com: Where did the idea for the insect-display-case look come from?
Photographer Misty Keasler wants you to know about the people she’s met. She wants you to feel the struggle of the young heroin junkies in Plano. She wants you to see the reflection of a twenty-year-old dying from cancer in Lewisville. She wants you to see the light in the eyes of the impoverished orphans in Romania. She wants to make you think.
LINCOLN PARK IS GONE. DISAPPEARED. We are rolling along in Oscar Casares' maroon Toyota Tacoma, searching for the place where a decent portion of his teenage days was spent shooting hoops, flirting with girls, and picking fights now and then. We pass the Lopez Supermarket, the housing project where his first girlfriend lived, the community clinic where sick people spend entire afternoons in waiting rooms. But no park. In 1998 the city cleared the playground and replaced it with a row of concrete pillars that now extend U.S.
texasmonthly.com: When did you first become interested in photography? What attracted you to the art form?
texasmonthly.com: How has your life changed since Lizzie McGuire?
Hilary Duff: My life has changed tremendously, mostly if I trip or spill something I am nervous everyone saw it! There is a lot of privilege as well as responsibility when you are on TV. I have met amazing people like Nelson Mandela and Steven Tyler but I live a very normal life. I do chores around the house and take care of my pets and go to school like all of my friends.
SEEMS LIKE EVERY FEMALE IN the state, from first lady to floozy, has graced the cover of Texas Monthly since the magazine debuted in 1973. Over the course of 361 issues, including this one, the cover has captured or mirrored the many faces of Texas women, from the traditionally feminine, such as cheerleaders and beauty queens, to the more challengingly modern, like politicians and self-made millionaires. (And yes, there have also been some unsavory types along the way: stripper, cult leader, murderer.)
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which I know has special significance for you. When was your cancer first diagnosed?
In February of 1992. I lost both my breasts and all my hair. My hair happily grew back. And I lived!
In the June 1991 issue, in an article called "Voices From the Dark," I told the story of Dawn, my mother-in-law. It was an account of her brief career as a singer in Hollywood in the late forties, how schizophrenia had brought that career to a tragic end, and how my wife, Tara, had tried since she was a little girl to care for her. A couple of years after the story appeared, Dawn called Tara from the Granger medical facility where she lived.
Sweat drips off Nancy "Shaggy" Moore's face as she lifts the front leg of a horse, coaxes the animal into bending it at the knee, clamps it between her own legs, and drives a nail through the hoof. "I went to horseshoe school for six weeks in the mid-nineties. One girl in a class with nineteen guys—tell me I didn't like that," she says with a laugh. "I'm such a perfectionist, though. I wanted to be the best, but it took me eight hours to do two shoes. Three weeks in, my body started to give out.