Day: June 4, 2025

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Ask A Texan. The Cultural Shift: Cats, Pride, and Texas Traditions


Fancy Advice For Folks That Don’t Live In Texas, But wish’un They Did

The Texan

This Texan received a letter from Mr. Merle T. Haggaurd of Muskogee, Oklahoma. It seems that his wife and her pet kitty have gone off the deep end of the Red River.

Mr. Haggard: About a month back, my wife’s pet kitty, Toonsis, appeared to have a nervous feline type of breakdown. I don’t know a lick about cats, being a dog person, so Reba, my wife, took the cat to a vet. It turns out the kitty did have a feline breakdown, and the vet suggested we take it to a specialized animal behavioral clinic in Austin, Texas. The only thing I know about Austin is that’s where Willy, Waylon, and the boys hung out, and it’s full of old dope-smoking hippie types. Me, I’m more of an Okie from Muskogee and a manly footwear-wearing feller. The doctor examined Toonsis and said she could fix her right up. She did say that this clinic is a LBGJQYST facility, which we had no idea what she meant by that. About a month went by, and two days ago, we got a call to pick up the kitty, so we headed down to Austin to retrieve Reba’s good-as-new cat. Driving into town, we noticed all these strange folks marching around carrying rainbow-looking flags, blocking traffic and spray painting little slogans on buildings and folks cars, and a lot of the buildings were draped in the same type of colors. We thought maybe we missed a national holiday or something. The hotel clerk got really upset with me when I asked what all these people with rainbow flags were doing. He squealed, “Don’t you know it’s Pride month?” I say, ” Well no, I’m as about as full of pride as any American and I didn’t know we had a month for it.” The next morning, we go to the clinic, and they trot out little Toonsis. She’s dressed in a rainbow kitty sweater and has pierced ears and eyebrows, and her fur is dyed purple and green, just like the doctor’s hair. The doctor says the cat is now identifying as an LBGQYST animal and now demands special rights and privileges. I pay Dr whacko the $2,000 dollar fee, and we take the new and not-so-improved Toonsis back to Muskogee. Did the missus and I miss something? Was there a cultural shift, or are all the folks down in Austin just plain weird? I’m enclosing a picture of Toonsis, who now prefers to be known as “It.”

Toonsis The “It” cat

The Texan: Well, Mr. Haggaurd, I wish you’d contacted me before taking Toonsis to Crazy Town. We, normal, gun-toting, beer-drinking, Bible-carrying rational folks in Texas, don’t consider Austin a part of our state. When Willy, Waylon, and the boys left, it went to pot pretty quick. Pretty soon, everybody and their dog or cat will get their own month. It appears that Pride Month is relatively new here in Texas, and we try to keep it fenced up in Austin and Dallas. After all, “Keep Austin Weird” isn’t just a slogan, I would try a Cat Whisperer if I were you. Keep in touch, and I’m sending Toonsis some 50 % off Pride Month coupons from PetSmart and Target.

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The Day I Tried to Fly: A Superhero Story


I wrote and published this childhood memory back in 2018. Any kid who has ever dressed up in a superhero costume can relate to my true experience. Thinking back to that time in the mid-1950s, I now realize my neighborhood buddies didn’t care if I died right there in front of them while attempting this stunt. We were all bullet-proof and somehow had nine lives. It was all about the show, as I soon found out.

Surfing Netflix and Amazon Prime a few nights ago, I was surprised how many movies feature superheroes. Sure, the two originals are there, Superman and Batman, but then there are at least a dozen others. Did I sleep through some cultural entertainment shift?

The original Superman television series premiered in 1952, and by 1953-54 every kid in my neighborhood pretended to fly while fighting for truth-justice-and the American way. The girls wanted to be Super Girls, but the boys wouldn’t allow it. Superman was a man’s man, so they had to settle for Lois Lane.

The family that possessed the largest television screen was the meeting point where the gang gathered to watch our hero. My Father purchased the largest black and white television available, 15 inches, so our den was the destination.

There he stood in his padded super suit, cape flapping in the wind, a steely look on his all-American face. What a man! Only years later did we notice the slight paunch, the double chin, and the bad teeth.

At Leonard Brothers department store in Fort Worth, you could purchase a genuine Superman cape for $2.00 or for $20.00, a kid could have the full outfit, which included a blue stretch top and tights, a red speedo, and super boots. The kids in our neighborhood couldn’t afford the suit, so they settled for whatever fabric they could find for a cape.

I was the lucky one. My Aunt Norma, a seamstress extraordinaire made me a custom-fit Superman suit. It was a beauty; dark blue stretchy top with little super muscles sewn in, blue tights with a red swimsuit, gold fabric covers to over my PF Flyer tennis shoes, and the bright red cape with the super “S.” I was in super heaven and the envy of all my pals. We immediately planned a flying demonstration, and I was the vehicle. The reality that I had never flown didn’t matter . Our home, the only two-story house on the block was the designated launch point.

After gathering in my den for our afternoon viewing of Superman, the gang rushed to our backyard, awaiting the flight. I sneaked upstairs, squeezed into my super suit, and slipped through a window onto the roof.

The usual gang of six had suddenly swelled to thirty or so kids of all ages. “How can I fly in front of strangers? What if the suit doesn’t work?” I was getting a severe case of “cold feet.”

The roof grew higher with every breath as I inched my way to the peak. Looking down to the yard, it may as well be the grand canyon. I was shaking like a wet dog, and a dribble of pee leaked down my leg. A kid in the crowd yelled, ” What’s wrong kid…chicken.” That did it. I was by-golly flying today.

I crossed myself and ran down the slope of the roof. A millisecond before launch, my Mother yells from the window, “don’t you dare do that.” It was too late. My six-year-old super legs launched me into thin air. I hear theme music, feel the air under my cape and below, my pals, a look of wonderment on their faces, cheer me on to super glory.

Instead of gaining height and accelerating to supersonic speed, I made it twenty feet or so then dropped straight down, landing in the midst of the admiring crowd. Our thick lawn saved me from certain paralysis.

My Mother was on me like a duck on a Junebug. Jerking me up by my super cape, she proceeds to whip my little butt with a flyswatter; the only weapon she could find. I was mortified; young Superman receiving a whooping from his super Mom. The crowd dispersed, leaving me sitting in the grass in my super shame.

The next morning; miraculously recovered, I am sent out to play with my pals. Walking through the back gate, I noticed a bit of my super cape hanging from under the garbage can lid. My super days are over.