The Education of Mi Hijita
My daughter is only two, but I’m already planning to teach her what it means to be a Texan—and a Tejana.
My daughter is only two, but I’m already planning to teach her what it means to be a Texan—and a Tejana.
. . . from teaching my fifteen-year-old daughter about her Texas roots. So when I realized I was failing to accomplish this most sacred of duties, I did what any well-meaning parent would do: loaded her (and her friends, of course) into the car and hit the road.
Meet Toribio Romo, the patron saint of immigrants.
Not everyone can claim to be related to a certified saint, but David Dorado Romo can. The author and El Paso native traveled to a tiny town in the Mexican state of Jalisco to learn more about his father’s second cousin, Santo Toribio Romo, and discovered some interesting things about
In the year since my mother died, I’ve learned a lot of things—like how to spend time with my dad.
After her mother’s death, Mimi Swartz found herself getting to know her father all over again.
Bolstered by his favorite phrase, my son Mark faced life with grace, dignity, and good humor. I knew he’d face death the same way.
When the doctor told me my third child had Down’s Syndrome, I knew that my life had changed forever.
Sometimes a home is more important than a hometown.
Today my grandfather is buried in a family plot in Laredo. But to understand who he was and what his family was like, you have to know the story of his first burial, seventy miles away and nearly twenty years earlier.
Is she a “saccharine phony”? A closet liberal? A foot soldier—or a rebel—in the culture wars? The truth about Laura Bush is that her ambiguity makes her a model first lady: a blank screen upon which the public can project its own ideas about womanhood.
My grandsons aren’t Texans … yet.
Every family has its myths. Some are intended to reveal, and some are intended to conceal, and sometimes the intentions can get confused. The problem with myth, however, is that it can overpower history. That’s what happened in the case of my father, who died when I was four. Only
The world’s best Domino player reveals his biggest secret — his identity.
The Big Easy isn’t hard for families.
Sending a Texan off into the world—and hoping he’ll return.
I was never certain how to explain the importance of the state to my three daughters. Now that I have two grandsons—named Mason and Travis, no less—I’ve realized something that I should have known all along.
My mother-in-law knew how to sew, keep an immaculate house, and dress stylishly. In short, she was nothing like the unpolished young woman who married her son. Perhaps that’s why we loved each other so much.
As a kid I was the pickiest eater you have ever seen, and family meals gave new meaning to the words “food fight.” But I gritted my teeth and overcame it.
Read a Q&A with Rick Bass.
The mud was deep and wet and cold and there was nothing to do but dig. And dig. And dig.
Brownsville’s first federal judge was a legendary figure in my house. So legendary that I never believed my father when he said he knew the man.
One more trip—would it be the last?—to Toledo Bend Reservoir with my dad.
A prayer for the beach. A prayer for courage. A prayer for the perfect crab cake.
Juno
They say you can’t go home again—especially when pretty much your entire family has moved away.
About halfway between our cities of residence, Houston and Austin respectively, my dad and I meet in a little restaurant named Schobels. They mostly serve chicken-fried items and other southern dishes. The waitresses, high school girls who wear too much makeup and never seem to remember the beer selection, call
From a Magic Garden crystal kit to a plastic replica of R2D2, the diverse offerings at three toy stores in Austin are right on—for any age.
On the day my mother died, I found myself in the place that, more than any other, had defined our relationship: her closet.
I’ve read more articles on overscheduled children than I care to count, and I like to think that I’m very in tune with trying to balance school, free play, and scheduled activities. But am I?
A violent tackle in a high school football game paralyzed John McClamrock for life. His mother made sure it was a life worth living.
Must I pose with my kids in the bluebonnets?
How my dad learned to stop worrying and love a Democrat.
And my favorite Christmas present of all time is...
Urban Adventures• Tower of the Americas San Antonio 600 Hemisfair Plaza Way, 210-207-8615 or toweroftheamericas.com• Cowtown Cattlepen Maze Fort Worth 145 E. Exchange Ave., 817-624-6666 or cowtowncattlepenmaze.com• Bat Watching Austin and Houston Austin: Ann W. Richards Congress Avenue Bridge at Lady Bird Lake. Houston: Waugh Drive
My Mexican housekeeper’s son had the troubles of many American teens. If only I could have helped him more.
My adventures with Mr. Brown.
My father, who had grown up on a farm, used to talk about his family’s killing a pig for the tamales, but this was back in the twenties.
At Westlake, even if your parents wouldn’t spring for Ralph Lauren, you could still work your way into the in crowd.
The tragedy of the Von Erichs—the state’s first family of pro wrestling—is well known not just to fans of the sport but to the many groupies who oohed and aahed at the matinee-idol athletes over the years. Still, you haven’t really heard the story until it’s told by the sole
Could Ray Fernandez, the grandson of a Mexican American maid, be the rightful heir to the vast Kenedy fortune, including the family's mythic South Texas ranch?
For all her talent and poise, Beyoncé didn’t become the biggest star in the world without help. And she got plenty of it from the people who know her best.
For years my relatives have claimed that they were robbed of oil and gas royalties on Padre Island. Last May a Brownsville jury agreed, vindicating—for now—the family’s proud heritage and proving that, sometimes, the little guy does win.
Three years after her Olympic glory, the gymnast is once again in competition—only this time, it’s with her parents.
Don’t think of the Hill Country Hyatt as just another chain hotel. Think of it as your salvation—especially if you have kids.
The feud between billionaire Harold Simmons and his daughters is worthy of Shakespeare.
MY MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER, Grandma Page, was up at three-thirty or four o’clock in the morning to bake and churn and get ready for the cotton fields on our family farm in Bloomington. At night, after all the cooking and sewing, there was energy left for her reading. “Come, Danny, I’ll
For Texas’ Kuehne kids, excelling at golf is par for the course—and the least their father will accept.
All over Texas, small ranchers are giving up and moving to the city. But the Stoner family of Uvalde is as determined as ever to hold on to its land—and its way of life.
MY EIGHT-YEAR-OLD SON is named after a town in Texas. His given name was Daniel Streeter Phillips. When he was born, my wife, Debra, and I broke out the map of Texas and our finger kind of stopped at Streeter. It was actually going to be his middle name, but