Taking a stab at Texas pride

Colorado versus Texas, the debate rages on.
My in-laws were in for the first part of a two-part visit last week. Keep in mind that I love them to death. Right now they live in Orlando, Fla., home of Mickey Mouse and Co.
They’re originally from Texas, God bless, ’em. So is their daughter, Sandy, my wife. They left Texas for Oregon in the early 1970s when Sandy was 2. They moved to Colorado in the late ’80s and on to Florida a few years ago.
Sandy’s family lives mostly around the Houston area. She has recently gotten into genealogy and has discovered her family roots are very deep in this state. I’m from Colorado, as are my two youngest sons. That’s as deep as our roots go in the Centennial State. My mother is from Omaha and my dad is (sigh) from California.
Since we moved to Texas two and a half years ago, the Colorado versus Texas debate has raged between me and my wife and her family. It’s essentially me against her, her father and her grandfather.
Every so often I can expect to get one of those “you know you’re a Texan when …” e-mails. They’re bound and determined to make a Texan out of me. Tuesday night we went to Palo Duro Canyon to see “Texas.” It was the second time I’ve seen it, and yes, I liked it very much.
As time passes I’m coming to grips with the fact that Texas is my home. But I’ll always be a Coloradan no matter where I lay my head at night. My heart bleeds Bronco orange and blue. I generally can’t tell what direction I’m headed without mountains to guide me. I doubt those things will ever change.
I grew up loathing Texans in a good-natured sort of way (kind of ironic, isn’t it). Coloradans aren’t as haughty about our state as Texans are. Come to think of it, no one else is either.
Growing up, you could bet that if anyone created a back-up on mountain roads, or drove too slow in the snow that they would have Texas plates.
Texans always boasted how much better Texas was than anyplace else, but they all seemed to vacation in Colorado and plenty of them migrated that way.
I got real tired of hearing how much bigger and better everything was in Texas from people who had abandoned their beloved Lone Star State. And back when the Broncos were the only show in town, it really grated my nerves to have to put up with Cowboy fans.
I always took great pleasure in reminding Texans that if Alaska were divided in half they would be from the third-largest state in the Union. And if you flattened Colorado, Texas would be the fourth-largest state.
I took a degree of pride in knowing that both Texas and California are down river. That one, however, has now come back to haunt me.
People here boast how you can see more stars at night than anyplace else. Those people have obviously never seen the night sky from two miles up in the Rocky Mountains.
Still, as I sat in the theater the other night watching the play unfold before me, I couldn’t help but feel a kinship, perhaps a twinge of that Texas pride.
Coming from Colorado, I have a deep appreciation for the pioneer spirit and the rugged individualist attitude that is beholden to all true Westerners. Texans are a lot more hospitable than Coloradans. I’ve always felt welcome here, especially in Hereford.
No, I’m not from Texas, but I got here as quick as I could. Only thing is, my route came via Glorieta Pass. Oh, wait, I forget, they don’t exactly teach that in the history classes here, do they?

Accountability report: Well, I’m off to a slow start. I keep forgetting to bring my gym clothes, so I haven’t been able to work out. I have been taking walks at lunch, but that’s about it. The only response I got to my invitation to join me in my weight loss venture was an invite to join Weight Watchers. Since that’s not in my budget, I’ll have to continue a slow and steady course.