Being Texan
Featured

They know what you did this summer. Read Story

The San Antonio producer created a style that would endure for decades—and he helped Selena get her start. Read Story

A Maryland man is worried that his progeny may never become a true Texan. Read Story
The Latest
See All
A West Texas man seems to be tired of living on Mountain Standard Time.

Celebrities and regular folk alike came together to offer hot food, clean water, and warm beds.

Like many Texans, residents in one Austin apartment complex faced a kaleidoscope of worst-case scenarios. And like many Texans, they had to get through them alone.

When I was growing up, Dr Pepper was a rare indulgence. Now it’s a reminder of how far I’ve come.

Our special Valentine’s Day video tells the story of two ranchers who found each other again in their eighties.

Roses are red. Bluebonnets are blue. We made these virtual valentines just for you.

During the past few years, a small group of girls in Marfa has used the simple wooden stool to create a business that has, well, legs.

While much of the under-65 population awaits their COVID-19 vaccines, the generation that invented sex, drugs, and rock and roll is about to run amok.
The Texanist
See All
Q: My husband, who is a grown man, sometimes drives around town without a shirt, as if he were some kind of a small-town teenager coming home from mowing lawns or the swimming hole. He says that it’s no big deal, but it is a big deal, right? He shouldn’t do this, should he? Please back me up here. Sandra Garcia, Fort Worth A: Wading into dustups between wives and… Read Story
Country Notes
See All
During the past few years, a small group of girls in Marfa has used the simple wooden stool to create a business that has, well, legs.

Social distancing on a ranch in South Texas, one writer finds a diversion—and a sort of community—in studying the fragments of English dinnerware her predecessors left behind.

Some were written long ago. Some appeared this year. But whether it’s a sign about snakes or a sign about diesel fried chicken, a simple message seems to mean the most.

Some forty years ago, a desk was dragged to the top of a hill in Alpine that overlooks the Big Bend. The notebooks stashed inside continue to capture big thoughts from the people who travel there.

Lelton Morse races homing pigeons in Central Texas. He sends his birds hundreds of miles away, waits and watches, and knows they’re flying home.

Not many people will drive the mail to places the U.S. Postal Service won’t. Seventy-one-year-old Gilbert Lujan is one of them.

Small-town papers often serve as bearers of civic pride. But the former owners of Marfa’s Big Bend Sentinel and Presidio’s International learned long ago that writing the news meant looking out for their neighbors.

Healing a spooked horse takes time, patience, and skill. And maybe a little help from beyond.