Dear Harvey

Dear Harvey,

You must know this ain’t our first rodeo. You’ve hung the wrong horse thief if you thought you could stop Texas. That dog won’t hunt. Texas always draws the best bull.

Storms Rita, Allison, and Carla all made hornets look cuddly. Those three were a couple sandwiches shy of a picnic. But you, Harvey, you were so ugly your mama had to tie a pork chop around your neck so the dogs would play with you. You fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. You’ve made us madder than a wet hen with your toad choker. But good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment. We’ve learned to never drop our guns to hug a grizzly.

Surely you’ve heard of Pecos Bill? Pecos Bill was raised by coyotes, teethed on a Bowie knife, wrestled mountain lions, rode a horse named the Widow-Maker, and used rattlesnakes as lassos. The strongest, meanest Texas cowboy to ever live, he shot all the stars out of the sky except the Lone Star. A Yankee came to town dressed in fancy cowboy gear, and our cyclone-riding, buffalo-hunting, snake-killing cattleman laughed himself to death.

We are laughing at you, Harvey, because you don’t belong here. Remember, Harvey, never ask a man if he’s from Texas. If he is, he’ll tell you on his own. If he ain’t, no need to embarrass him. Keep in mind some of us weren’t born here but got here as fast as we could. You, Harvey, are no Texan.

Ultimately, Harvey, you’re all hat and no cattle.

While politicians talk the ears off a mule and never miss a chance to shut up, Texans are saddling up faster than double-struck lightning and getting to work. Texans work harder than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest, and we know to always drink upstream from the herd.

None of us are going to be, uh, “pooping” in high cotton for a while. Harvey, though you may have left lots of folks too poor to paint but too proud to whitewash, they will never be alone. We know how to squeeze a nickel till the buffalo screams. Being a Texan means having plenty of arrows in our quiver. Everything is bigger in Texas, including our hearts and our generosity. And we’ve got HEB.

Well, Harvey, I’m fixin’ to grab a cold one and eat some Blue Bell, but I do have one more thing to say:

Harvey, bless your heart.

Love,
Texas

2 Responses to Dear Harvey

  1. Shelby September 7, 2017 at 8:25 pm #

    Lisa,
    I think you just moved up a few notches on the Super Heroes candidate list!

  2. Candice curry
    Candice curry September 4, 2017 at 6:53 pm #

    This is freaking awesome.