I've been a Texan (or at least a resident of Texas) for 32 years. On 19 August 1988, I spent my first night in a rented apartment in College Station, Texas. I had a one-year job at Texas A&M University while I finished my Ph.D. dissertation. Truth be told, I hated Texas and didn't want to live there; but hey, it was for one year only.
Guess what? A year later, I got a tenure-track job offer from the University of Texas at Arlington. I've been there ever since. Along the way, I came to love and appreciate this great state. The way I think of it is as follows. Imagine you're in an arranged marriage. At first, you dislike your spouse. But as time goes by, to your great amazement, you fall in love with him or her.
As for whether I'm a Texan, I suppose I am. I'm 63 years old, so I've lived more than half my life in the Lone Star State. I don't think I have a Texas twang in my voice (though others would be the best judge of that), and I haven't ridden a horse or shot a gun in 32 years, but I do love the weather of this state, its history and culture, and the fact that we have no state income tax. I do from time to time say "Howdy" and "I'm fixin' to do such-and-such." I even say "Y'all," as in "Y'all come back now, y'hear?"
Oh yes, I met my beautiful and talented wife in Texas. That alone makes it a special place.
