The Horror! The Horror!
How my lifelong dream of writing a novel turned into a nightmare.
How my lifelong dream of writing a novel turned into a nightmare.
How the booming Dallas suburb became the new Peoria, sort of.
When Sam Hassenbusch was diagnosed with a deadly form of brain cancer, the only saving grace was his own history of treating the very same affliction.
Rick Perry’s Trans-Texas corridor conundrum.
The day I slithered from movie theater to movie theater.
Just curious, Mr. Vice President: How did your old pals at Halliburton get that five-year, no-bid contract to clean up Iraq?
Race and racism at the state soccer championship.
That old mad dog Carlton Carl takes Martindale. Literally.
Rick Perry’s inner monologue.
Nora Ephron’s wattle, and Ann Richards’s, and mine.
Independent candidates for governor won’t win this year, but they’ve certainly upended the established order. Democrats and Republicans, you have only yourselves to blame.
Houston’s Katrina hangover.
Teen Boy’s sugar-free education.
Mexico in 2006 may not be Florida in 2000, but there are at least two similarities: The final results of its closest-ever presidential election are taking pretty long to determine. And however it comes out, a lot of people are going to be unhappy.
Andrea Yates does battle with her demons. Again.
My solicited two cents about the Republicans’ agenda.
I’m a slob. There, I said it. Now don’t mess with me.
The mayor of El Cenizo is 23, is still in school, and lives with his mother. But he’s serious about making life better in his impoverished border hometown.
What I learned about Iraq from World War II—and what all the president’s men could learn.
Silvestre Reyes has a plan for the border.
Teen Boy gets behind the wheel.
My Wichita Falls High School reunion inevitably got me thinking about the passage of time but also about memories that endure. And, of course, football.
He’s still the gold standard by which all chroniclers of our shared experience are judged, but it’s time to look to the new generation. How do his wannabe heirs stack up?
The trouble with law school— and how to fix it.
A few sore points about HMOs— and two thumbs-up for the acupuncturist.
How—and why—I became an organ donor.
Will the upscale shoppers of Plano really buy what Wal-Mart is selling?
I thought I’d be teaching middle- schoolers something about Texas history. I didn’t count on what they’d teach me.
My dancing feet. And, hopefully, yours.
As a record number of demonstrators hit the streets this spring, one Texas border town was rolling the dice on a draconian method of dealing with illegal immigrants. And it’s working.
A pernicious staph infection is targeting athletes young and old—and igniting a debate over the hazards of artificial turf.
My dog, Flaco, sleeps on a bed from Pottery Barn, gets three walks a day, and very nearly had his teeth cleaned for the princely sum of $208. What would my father say?
Can John Sharp save the Republicans?
There is a world where the kings of small African countries send cases of Dom Pérignon as hostess gifts, where you get to choose between the white-striped chinchilla and the violet beaver shearling poncho. Who let me in?
As surprising as our immigrant-friendliness may be to many, it speaks to who we are. To be a Texan is to inhabit a vast bicultural frontera, one that extends far beyond the Rio Grande.
Coronary artery disease is an old and much-hated enemy of mine. The beast attacked me without warning in 1988 as I strolled with my Airedales along Austin’s Shoal Creek hike-and-bike trail. Last November—sacre bleu!—it got me again.
My ambivalence about George W. Bush continues. And grows more pronounced.
Ladies’ fashion is nothing if not a fantasy inside an illusion wrapped in a thong. Every season, there is a new “look,” a new “trend,” a new “paranoid schizophrenic thought disorder.” And then there are returns.
How Rick and Melissa Noriega served their country—and their constituents.
If big high schools are the problem, why aren’t there more small ones?
Why I love—and why so many of you hate—the People’s Republic of Austin.
A challenge for the lieutenant governor.
Living proof that moms shouldn’t take the SAT.
Rethinking the way we do business—and government—down here.
The conservative case for gay marriage.
The quest for the perfect author photo (or at least one I can live with).
Sweaty socks, cat urine, dead skunks: Three cheers for having no sense of smell.
Roberto Parada, who illustrated the seven Where I’m From profiles, was born in North Arlington, New Jersey.Executive editor Mimi Swartz (“Midnight in the Garden of Memory,” was born in Baltimore, Maryland.Senior executive editor Paul Burka (“I of the Storm,” was born in Galveston.Writer-at-large Oscar Casares (“Christmas
As the daughter of migrant workers from South Texas, I was taught to value education, choose my friends wisely, and stay on the right side of the law.
The prison affected me personally. I grew up parking cars at the prison rodeo. I had a stepfather who was a prison guard.