Gifts from My Father
All his life, the son learned from the father, but the most important lesson came at the end.
All his life, the son learned from the father, but the most important lesson came at the end.
No contest.
“Make new friends, keep the old.” It’s not as easy as it sounds.
With feasts from the garden.
R.I.P.
A look at Dallas Civic Opera’s Plato Karayanis, a man with a noble cause who’s selling tickets to a dream.
All you need to heat your home is a stove, firewood, and a match.
Sexual secrets in the Piney Woods.
From China, with kid gloves.
Soon it will be too late; the days of block parties and neighborhood stores are vanishing.
Get our kicks and take your licks.
Theatrical families find a foster home at the Dallas Theater Center.
Lasers have been heralded as the greatest discovery since the computer, but they may be hazardous to your health.
Reading, riding, and religion.
Welcoming danger with open arms, horse trading over tax relief, picking juries by their faces, and searching after the perfect twirl.
At the Grapevine Opry the neighbors sing country music, and even your granny can have fun.
Remember the great campaign against drugs? Dueling enforcement agencies have turned it into a civil war.
How to lose you not-enough-jazz-in-Texas blues.
Over the transom.
Who’ll Stop the Rain is like a stormy day—good for sleeping through.
Avoid them if you can; if you can’t, take something along to pass the time.
If you live in Texas, here’s one fish story you can believe.
Four Score!
Bringing it all back home.
Bobby Baker tells all and then some.
The large art of the very small.
Most pop festivals have moved into stadiums, but this summer two Texas musical events blossomed in the great outdoors.
My kingdom for a horse.
A motley crew of actors, writers, and musicians are creating the most talked-about theater in Austin.
In the name of Justice.
Plainview puts a lid on deviate sex; billions of animals sleep in a freezer; oil spills are coming and we're not ready.
If you’re going bald, their’s only thing to do: blame mother.
The truth, the whole truth.
Grease is about appealing as its name implies.
Bob Doherty was a Texas ranger who believed in the myth of the Old West; Greg Ott was a college dope dealer, a child of the sixties. When they met, it destroyed both their lives.
Once a year in Fayette County sauerkraut and sausage give way to classical music.
Stalking elusive birds and energy czars.
Max Apple’s oddball touches make a zany and endearing novel.
The future’s over, and the past has just begun
Psychiatrists send men to death row; Texas’ loop coasters give up-side-down joyride; Diablos play baseball with Kleenex and kazoos.
Frock and roll.
Maybe There’s no cure for insanity, but two new plays offer some provocative treatments.
The rich and the powerless.
Back in the forties Gatemouth Brown took Texas blues uptown,. Now he’s taking C&W to New Orleans.
A mother’s job offers no vacations, no holidays, and lousy pay, but it’s a noble profession.
Horsefeathers and other plumage.
So your kids struck out in baseball, tripped up in tap, and camp won’t take them back this summer? Try teaching them to cook.
When rusty Rose talks, people with money listen.
Mix together Scott Joplin, modern history, and the Prodigal Son and what do you get? A mess of pottage.
It’s a chicken coop. I built it myself.