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. Read Story
The stories, the traditions, and the deeper meanings of the boots in their lives. Read Story
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“I guess the pandemic didn’t exactly end my marriage. It just revealed that it no longer really existed.”
In the face of specious medical advice and hoarding, Dallas pharmacist Emile Abdo tries to keep vital medications in stock.
Shortly after Holly Allen fell ill with COVID-19, she learned that her mother had died. At home in Fort Worth, she grieved in isolation, watching her mother’s funeral online.
A squirrel went postal in a Houston suburb, and Waco finds something new to feel some civic pride about.
Remembering my grandpa, who soothed wild beasts—and played poker with the devil.
A Portland man is confused by the Menger Hotel's and Excelsior House Hotel's dueling claims. The Texanist is, too.
A Michigander with dreams of owning a massive piece of Texas land isn't sure how he would occupy himself on his $32.5 million spread.
A California man tried to bring his pet possum on a passenger plane, and a clerical error brought a temporary $37 million windfall to a Rowlett couple.
The TexanistSee 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 NotesSee All
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.
The railway and Marfa are forever intertwined.
Without a good shoeing, a horse can indeed be lost. Enter the farrier.
Ninety-three-year-old Armando Vasquez tells of a place that used to be.