Habits of the Heart
Time-honored Texas rituals.
Time-honored Texas rituals.
Age cannot wither nor custom stale the biggest anniversary party in Texas.
Everyone knows a single man has it made. His one wishes the fun was over.
Cheatin’ may be a sin, but there’s ain’t no sin in singin’ about it.
In 1981 these romances made the Dallas Morning News. We find out who’s loving happily every after.
Was it this cool the first time you fell in love?
We were in love in a way I didn’t quite trust. There was nothing grand or electric about it, just a steady, deepening insistence.
Time-honored Texas rituals.
A Britisher forty years my senior made me see myself, and Texas, anew.
What do Lyndon Baines Johnson and Robert A. Caro have in common? Each other.
Amarillo’s best waitress can dish it out and serve it up too.
When it comes to the women of my Highland Park reading club, our histories are an open book.
Willie Nelson’s true love may have a body that’s worse for the wear, but woe to the man who tries to pick it up.
How five Texas keep their faith.
It doesn’t have the passion of love or the drama of family life. Maybe that’s why friendship can be utopian.
The Mansion chef’s most redolent recipe came from Sunday suppers at his grandmother’s house.
Barbara Bush remembers the life of the daughter she lost 35 years ago.
Why did my daughter’s favorite stuffed animal seem strangely familiar?
If you think you in-laws are tough, try Wynne-ing your way into this clan.
There he was in his high chair, drinking lemonade-flavored mineral water and watching LA Law.
Tommy Cutler is not just a custodian of family property, he’s a custodian of family history.
Thanks to the sacrifice of two strangers, we have the child we’ve always dreamed of.
Four Texas families take you home for dinner. Pass the chocolate-cream pie, please.
Time-honored Texas rituals.
With a mother in one city and a father in another, Audrey Reynolds took to the air.
My Mad Dog days behind me, I’ve found contentment with young jackanapes at my feet and the girl of my dreams beside me.
Time-honored Texas rituals by Paul Burka,
When a rural Texas says, “It looks like rain,” he’s really meditating on the nature of the universe.
Everybody loved Susi Tucker when she was giving money away. Now the notes are due, and the good feelings are in escrow.
Can a New York employee of J.C. Penney find happiness amid the hustle and bustle of Plano?
A friend’s illness propelled a Baptist minister from a life or though to a life of action.
We all need a place to call our own.
Triumphing over adversity is the story of Texas. We’d better be able to do it again.
A special celebration.
About our contributors.
Don Dixon ran Vernon Savings the way the Romans ran orgies, equating excess with success, until his empire collapsed.
That concrete urn you bought by the side of the road is making decorating history.
More than an excuse for a good time, the Mexican quinceaera party is a fifteen-year-old girl’s rite of passage.
Does Texaco have a chance in the U.S. Supreme Court? Dukakis and Gore fight over Texas; a bad start for Kent Hance; the latest Disneyland-comes-to-Texas tale.
Speaking up for unsung cowgirls; Greeks bearing gripes; Libertarians looking for a landslide.
Down but not out in Bent Tree; dishes only the devil could love; hello, Wal-Mart; stupid napkin tricks; gossip boys and Gorilla girls.
The ghosts of bowl games past recall an era when cotton and the Cotton Bowl were king in Texas.
When Texas songwriter the Big Bopper died with Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens in a 1959 plan crash, his hit “Chantilly Lace” became the end rather than the beginning of a national career.
Out itinerant reporter visits with a Lubbock man determined to preserve the American Way of Life; the doughty clan that brought beer to Levelland; a windy lady fascinated with the weather and a rusticated professor gone to seed.
Growing up, I took the Panhandle’s plain nature for granted. Only after years away and a sentimental journey home did I take it to heart.
He had a wife and a girlfriend. His ambition was unchecked. He tried to commit suicide. But when I came face to face with the minister of my boyhood church, the sin we talked about was murder.
A year of clumsy Clements, stupid stickups, ripped-off Rangers, cockeyed cops, agitated alligators, rotund cockroaches, jumpy judges, nitwit newsmen, addled Aggies, naughty newlyweds, randy retirees, and a pestered pontiff.
When Houston’s Hermann Hospital sought a cure for its financial ills, it decided to perform major surgery on its agreement with the UT medical school next door.
The big squeeze.