There are times where I feel very privileged to have known what Texas is supposed to look like. Texas is endless scenic deserts, sunsets that peek through epic pine trees, ice-cold rivers full of unafraid fish, a coast that never seems to end with coastal breezes that smell like salt and feel like silk, and of course there are small, small towns with friendly people that just want to keep Texas just like it was, just like it's supposed to be.
So, when I saw The Unforeseen and all of its cuts of Barton Springs and the lovely air of old Austin, I wept. Texas isn't like this anymore. The real cowboys lost.
Texas is now crammed with shitty little strip centers and over-stuffed suburbs. Mid-rise office buildings seem to reproduce like fucking rabbits, and I have yet to see one that doesn't have a "FREE RENT" or "NOW LEASING" banner on it. Our once gorgeous vistas are now pockmarked by construction sites and new highways.
And have you ever tried to fight any of this? It's like eating soup with a knife. I don't think anyone could make me understand why building huge subdivisions that repeat ever fifth house is more important than leaving a legacy of clean water and clear air.
I hope that our generation will learn that you cannot take it with you, that making a buck at someone else's expense will leave you ethically poor, and that the Girl Scouts have always been right: Leave camp better than you came upon it.
2 comments:
That's true all over America, and all over the world. I went to a museum exhibit about how the railroads shaped the American west, and the romance of all that open land and opportunity is totally gone. It's so generic and dull now.
There has to be a way to provide housing for a booming population without it being cookie cutter, AND without people being crammed into tenements.
Affordable, earth friendly, eye friendly, and welcoming. It's got to be possible without choosing the lazy way.
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