A River runs around it, the borders of your subconscious…

Tex-Mex Border, behind Fences

Tex-Mex Border, behind Fences

Sometimes all you need is a little change of focus, a little shift in perspective, a little depth of field, when you’re standing at the border, when you’re on the threshold of a crossing, when you’re sitting at the crossroads, trying to flag a ride, waiting for the light to change, waiting for a a sign, waiting for a little voice inside you to announce something Big.  Good luck with that.

The Rio Grande is also known as El Rio Bravo del Norte, the wild river up north, but it ain’t so wild, really, not here in southern Texas, the part below the Pecos that was never a part of pre-independence Texas anyway, so we Texans just stole that, too, figured as long as we’re here…

Tex-Mex Border, with River

Tex-Mex Border, with River

In other modern countries full of Western ex-pats, they remember the Alamo, too, how we moved in as guests, and then refused to play by the rules of the game, prefer to just make them up, something like Manifest Destiny, something like American exceptionalism, something like taking what you need and leaving the rest…

It’s funny how in Mexico they talk about ‘El Norte Barbaro’ and we talk about the Wild West, and it turns out we’re talking about the same place, really. They settled it, and then we took it. Such time-honored American concepts as the cowboy come straight from the Mexicans, the words ‘buckaroo, lasso, rodeo, and many more all American bastardizations of Spanish gone English.  So now we refuse them entry into what was once their own country–classic American.

Advertisements