August 1988

Jul 31, 1988 — By Anne Dingus

Look out, Texas! If drought comes, can tons of blowing dirt be far behind?

Jul 31, 1988 — By Jerry Jeanmard

Let there be light, but leave us in the dark. Long before Ozona knew about ozone, Texans were inventing scads of ways to hide from rays.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Joe Nick Patoski

Get hip to zydeco, the born-on-bayou sound with the accordion accent. Ready for it red hot? Check out a Saturday-night church dance in Houston.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Al Reinert

Heat + pressure + yttrium + a politically savvy University of Houston physicist = a formula to change the world.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Paul Burka

The congressional investigation that is focusing on Speaker Jim Wright’s ethics is missing the real problem—his judgment.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Jan Jarboe Russell

You see them on TV, adorable youngsters asking to be adopted, But the dreadful odyssey of the Wednesday’s Child rarely has a made-for-television happy ending.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Emily Yoffe

Fire ants are on the relentless march across Texas, maiming, devouring, and stinging the living daylights out of everything in their path. We’ve tried to stop them, and it has only made them stronger.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Prudence Mackintosh

Don’t say this word aloud in polite company if you want to stay on the author’s good side.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Liz Carpenter

Where the heck is Salado, and why are world-famous intellectuals flocking there?

Jul 31, 1988 — By Gregory Curtis

Fun voting no.

Jul 31, 1988 — By davidgaines

Kinky Friedman dropped out for a while, but it sure beat dropping dead. Now the warped warbler is back with a play, a movie deal, and murder mystery number three.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Paul Burka

Looking for gas in all the wrong places; a casualty report from the Texas drought; an early look at redistricting.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Texas Monthly

Lonesome Dove on film; Lance Lalor on tape, an optimist on Mexico; West Texas State alumni on mediocrity.

Jul 31, 1988 — By Alison Cook

The case of the purloined painting; how to tell the Surf Club from the Yacht Club; cream of the ice-cream crop; people who live in pink houses.