Secession

If you don't count Dustin or my use of the telephone, there are days in Dallas when I talk to no one. I know this because sometimes I congratulate myself for having a conversation with the check-out person at the grocery store. It's actually something of a hobby, conversations with strangers, or would be if I went to the grocery store more often. Which is all to say that if it doesn't come up on the local public radio station, I have very little reason to know what Texans are thinking. I just don't know very many of them. And that puts me in a funny position when all y'all non-Texans start asking if we'll really secede.

Dustin likes to tell the story of our first tornado in Texas, how the first either of us knew about it was an email from my brother and a call from my sister prompting us, foolishly, to get close enough to a window to take a look and check. It's the same with secession. It's not like there are billboards or lawn signs or trucks with speakers and a PA system driving around. There are no mailers in the mailbox, and I can tell you it doesn't come up at the grocery store. I wouldn't know a thing about it if folks out of state didn't raise the issue. So until I have more friends, I, like the rest of the world, will have to get my information from the internet.