Another cold day—and a tale for Texas secessionists

 

Our house on the second day of snowmageddon

So many are in so much worse condition than I am that I wouldn’t think of complaining. I have power and water—cold, but not hot. But I have devised a dish-washing method—heating water in the electric kettle and using my mixing bowl as a dishpan. Cold rinses are a shock; so is brushing my teeth and washing my hands; a shampoo is out of the question, and I am beginning to feel as bedraggled as I did after six days in the hospital.

My house is cold in the mornings—50 this morning, which was seven degrees better than yesterday. But the space heaters bring it up to the recommended 68. Of course, I turn them off at night. And I worry about Sophie—she won’t sleep on the bed next to me. Last night I found her curled into a cold little ball on the sofa. Tonight, she was cuddled closer to the space heater than I was comfortable with. I had soup tonight—a thick, rich white bean and sausage soup in my freezer, given by a friend some time ago. I thought it was thawed, but when I went to spoon it out, it obviously was not—a big spoonful flew onto the floor. Sophie loved it, and I loved the hot bowl I had.

I’ve never seen rescue measures in Texas like we are seeing tonight—warming shelters, the convention center and several churches open for overnight guests, the Presbyterian Night Shelter flooded (I hope) with donated pbj sandwiches, Jeep owners ready to rescue stranded people. In a crunch like this, the good in people comes out, and it’s really heartening. In my little neighborhood, people are running errands for each other, offering to shovel snow, loaning a desperately need shop vac. They find all kinds of ways to help.

I am angrily amused at the right-wingers who blame Texas troubles on Biden and his green energy plan. Do they read? Do they think? Biden has been in office three weeks, give or take, and no energy bill has been presented, let alone accepted and acted upon. Yet they are sure that he has targeted Texas for special pain. Texas, the state that has proposed legislation to withdraw from the union. In truth, when Governor Abbott, who eschews Federal aid in Medicare, etc., asked for FEMA relief, Biden immediately granted it. He didn’t care that Texas voted red; he did care that people were suffering and in danger of dying. He is a president for all the people, not just those who voted for him.

Speaking of secession, if Texas did, God forbid, act on that legislation, it wouldn’t be the first time. In 1867, during Reconstruction, Van Zandt County in East Texas seceded and drew up a document similar to the Declaration of Independence. General Phil Sheridan sent troops to quell the rebellion, but while Sheridan’s troops marched in orderly file up the road, the men of Van Zandt County hid in the trees and picked off the soldiers with well-aimed shots. The troops retreated, and the Van Zandt County men went into town to celebrate victory with a huge bonfire and more than one jug of whiskey. After a while, the troops came back, quietly surrounded and arrested them. Many of the rebels spent a long, cold winter in a stockade. When spring rains came, the logs of the stockade could easily be pushed apart in the mud, and one by one the men of Van Zandt disappeared into the night. Some never returned to the county; none were prosecuted.

I’m not sure if this is an object lesson for today’s Texans or not, but I can’t resist a bit of blatant self-promotion. One of my early novels was about that war—Luke and the Van Zandt County War. Recently I wrote about spending time at a guest ranch in East Texas—it was in Van Zandt County. Love these odd bits of history.

 

Two Questions for Governor Abbott--and a bit of history

This is not a political post. I’m not attacking Governor Abbott or anyone else, but I am sincerely puzzled by two things I’ve been seeing on Facebook a lot.

The first is the new law limiting suits by communities and dollar amount against big corporations for pollution. With climate change and the environment one of the major concerns in this country and the world, I cannot see any advantage to this except protection of big corporations—and endangerment to the everyday Texans our state government is supposed to protect. I wish Governor Abbott would tell us his thinking when he signed this law—you know, transparency in government and all that.  I genuinely want to know, because it sounds like a disaster in the making to me. Once again, I am disturbed by what we do to Mother Earth in the name of greed.

The second questions has to do with all this gold bullion being stashed away to back Texas currency. What Texas currency? As far as I know we don’t have our own money. Does this hark back to Reconstruction when some Texans wanted to secede? I’ve heard that it’s a first step toward secession. Then I’ve also heard that the gold is safely stored in a New York bank, Why New York? If we’re stashing it, why not in Texas? If it’s an asset, why don’t we use it to help the poor with housing, medical costs, food, etc. Or schools?

The whole idea of secession has been around since we first became a state back in 1845, but today it make me shudder. Does anyone know the story of Van Zandt County’s secession? After the Civil War, that county decided to withdraw from the Union and from Texas. General Phil Sheridan was in charge of Texas during Reconstruction, and he stormed troops north to Van Zandt County to tell those misled farmers they couldn’t do that. But the farmers used a Revolutionary War tactic—they hid in trees and took potshots at the troops in formation as they marched up the road—and then turned around and retreated.

The citizens of Van Zandt County retired to Canton where they built a big bonfire and got out the little brown jug. Late that night, Sheridan’s troops surrounded the town, put all the men in a stockade where they kept them one long cold, wet winter. When spring came and the ground was muddy, the prisoners could push the poles of the stockade apart. One by one they disappeared into the night. Some never returned to Van Zandt County. I think it’s a cautionary tale.

Can’t resists getting in a plug: you can read all about it in Luke and the Van Zandt County War, winner of the best juvenile award for the year from the Texas Institute of Letters. Available from TCU Press, Texas A&M Press, or Amazon. Yeah, I wrote it. Maybe I should send the governor a copy—ya’ think?

If the guv answers my questions, I’ll be sure to let you know.