The fourth Texas Birthday Bash was held this weekend to celebrate Texas's 180th anniversary of independence. Ronnie and I went both nights. My friend Karleen Koen went with us Saturday night. We were supposed to join Butch and Sheila Juelg, but there were a couple of thousand people crowding the bandstand that was set up beside the Navasota City Hall and finding them was just impossible. We'll try again next year. Most likely meet at the house and then walk the four blocks to the venue.
The weather was perfect. We didn't even need jackets once we moved to the beat of William Clark Green, Josh Abbott, and John Michael Montgomery. There were other bands, but these were the ones we came to see.
The crowd was the real show.
Long legged fillies in denim shorts that barely covered their bottoms wore cowboy boots to mid-calf and frilly white lace camisoles or plaid sleeveless shirts. Except for a few sporting ponytails, most had hair loose and cascading down their backs. Bling-crusted belts assessorized all choices of attire, from the fringed denim shorts to mini-skirts to skin tight jeans. Lots of fringe. On shirts, shorts, boots, and handbags.
The young men with dates kept a hand on their woman's waist or in her back pocket or slung possessively over a shoulder. Single men lined the outermost edges, in groups of three and five, drinking from their longnecks and checking the beauties who were forever weaving through the crowd gathered in front of the bandstand.
There weren't many cowboy hats this year. Instead, there were plenty of caps with bills pointed forward and pulled down over masculine faces, not askew or backwards like city gangsta types. These guys hailed from College Station, Brenham, Hempstead, Anderson, Roans Prairie and other neighboring communitites. They wore low-slung Levis held in place by tooled leather belts. Their boots were scuffed, proof that they worked the land or in one of the industrial or manufacturing plants.
Many wore snug tee-shirts that showed off muscular bodies. Most of them were Aggie brands with appropriate tag lines about the 12th Man and such. My favorite was "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of the Ring." (For you non-Texans, that is the pusuit of the Aggie graduation ring.)
Others wore western shirts or long sleeved white dress shirts. One had on a hoodie with this statement stenciled on the back:
Frac long
Frac strong
And always
Frac on!
Where else will you find someone promoting fracking at a concert? Only in Texas, my friend, where oil field is still the major employer and an important revenue stream for the state budget.
The crowd thickened as the night wore on. The single men began walking into the fray, feeling pumped by the beer and the band. Young women jumped atop hay bales, swinging their hips to the beat of the bass guitar. Couples danced in spaces no bigger than three-feet square. Shiner beer, Bud Light, and bottled water from HEB kept most people hydrated.
Even though Open Carry is law in Texas now, the only thing anyone had in a holster was an iPhone, which was frequently drawn to shoot photos of each other and the bands.
I love this small town that celebrates the birthday of Texas. Yee-haw, y'all.
Showing posts with label Texas Independence Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas Independence Day. Show all posts
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Texas Birthday Bash
Tomorrow is Texas Independence Day, but Navasota celebrated this weekend with its annual Texas Birthday Bash in the courtyard of the city hall. We had two days of live country music and Texas themed fun.
The bands were loud, rowdy, and down home country. We sat on one of the bales of hay scattered in front of the bandstand, but many families brought camp chairs along with wool blankets or quilts to wrap around them. Good idea--wish we'd thought to do the same.
A winter blast from the north required layered clothing. Seriously insulated jackets (the kind that are worn in deer stands or duck blinds) were favored gear for both men and women. Ronnie and I don't hunt, so we bundled up in our Harley leather motorcycle jackets. My beautiful blood-red cowboy boots were new, but the ones on the other women were scuffed and weathered. They weren't wearing their boot-scootin' dancing boots in inclement weather. I'll know better next year.
The guys sported short haircuts and full beards--no skimpy soul patches for these young men. They smoked filtered cigarettes, drank Budweiser, and bought cotton candy, funnel cake, and kettle corn for their rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed children. And when the music moved them, they punched the air with their fists and danced with their women on the hard concrete.
Marsha's Petting Zoo had the little ones squealing with delight as they toddled after the llama, sheep, and goats. I thought how my younger brother would have joined in the reverie because he acts like he's 6 when he's around children. But Dallas was being pelted with snow and sleet this weekend, preventing Mark and his wife from joining us.
A mechanical bull also attracted youngsters from 3 to 12. The ride's operator wisely matched the bull's aggressiveness to each rider, so all the 3-year-olds had gentle rides while the 12-year-olds were spun and bucked till only the best weren't thrown to the pillow-soft padded flooring. The line was long, with older kids, determined to stay upright, jumping back in line for rematches.
For $5 each, we could have judged the chili cook-off, and we wanted to, especially since our friend Mitch cooked the meat for the entry from Brookshire Brothers grocery store. But the cook-off was over by the time we moseyed over to that side of the venue. Unlike Houston, the cook-off must end at lunchtime instead of offering competitive vittles into the evening of the event.
We met a fellow named Jim from La Grange. He came over to thank Ronnie for his service when he spotted Ronnie's Vietnam vet service cap. Jim is three days from being mustered out of the Army after serving in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He and Ronnie talked about the movie "American Sniper." We'd seen it last week, but Jim said he might have to wait to see it in video in the privacy of his home. He fought in Fallujah, and he isn't sure what emotions might come up. Ronnie nodded in understanding and said, "I was able to watch it with no problem, but that's because it wasn't my war." They discussed the differences between Vietnam and Iraq, jungle warfare versus house-to-house urban warfare, and the differences in the way they were welcomed home. They both agreed, as crazy as it got during their tours, they'd volunteer again. These two native sons are from the bloodline of the patriots who made Texas independence possible 179 years ago. They make me Texas proud.
The bands were loud, rowdy, and down home country. We sat on one of the bales of hay scattered in front of the bandstand, but many families brought camp chairs along with wool blankets or quilts to wrap around them. Good idea--wish we'd thought to do the same.
A winter blast from the north required layered clothing. Seriously insulated jackets (the kind that are worn in deer stands or duck blinds) were favored gear for both men and women. Ronnie and I don't hunt, so we bundled up in our Harley leather motorcycle jackets. My beautiful blood-red cowboy boots were new, but the ones on the other women were scuffed and weathered. They weren't wearing their boot-scootin' dancing boots in inclement weather. I'll know better next year.
The guys sported short haircuts and full beards--no skimpy soul patches for these young men. They smoked filtered cigarettes, drank Budweiser, and bought cotton candy, funnel cake, and kettle corn for their rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed children. And when the music moved them, they punched the air with their fists and danced with their women on the hard concrete.
Marsha's Petting Zoo had the little ones squealing with delight as they toddled after the llama, sheep, and goats. I thought how my younger brother would have joined in the reverie because he acts like he's 6 when he's around children. But Dallas was being pelted with snow and sleet this weekend, preventing Mark and his wife from joining us.
A mechanical bull also attracted youngsters from 3 to 12. The ride's operator wisely matched the bull's aggressiveness to each rider, so all the 3-year-olds had gentle rides while the 12-year-olds were spun and bucked till only the best weren't thrown to the pillow-soft padded flooring. The line was long, with older kids, determined to stay upright, jumping back in line for rematches.
For $5 each, we could have judged the chili cook-off, and we wanted to, especially since our friend Mitch cooked the meat for the entry from Brookshire Brothers grocery store. But the cook-off was over by the time we moseyed over to that side of the venue. Unlike Houston, the cook-off must end at lunchtime instead of offering competitive vittles into the evening of the event.
We met a fellow named Jim from La Grange. He came over to thank Ronnie for his service when he spotted Ronnie's Vietnam vet service cap. Jim is three days from being mustered out of the Army after serving in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan. He and Ronnie talked about the movie "American Sniper." We'd seen it last week, but Jim said he might have to wait to see it in video in the privacy of his home. He fought in Fallujah, and he isn't sure what emotions might come up. Ronnie nodded in understanding and said, "I was able to watch it with no problem, but that's because it wasn't my war." They discussed the differences between Vietnam and Iraq, jungle warfare versus house-to-house urban warfare, and the differences in the way they were welcomed home. They both agreed, as crazy as it got during their tours, they'd volunteer again. These two native sons are from the bloodline of the patriots who made Texas independence possible 179 years ago. They make me Texas proud.
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