Carol & Ken Lyon's Cross-Country Ramblings

The written-as-it-happened reflections of a couple of middle-age non-athletes as they travel across America on their recumbent bicycles.
 

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Part I:
Ventura, CA to High Island, TX
April-June 1996

Introduction & Links

1: New Bikes!

2: Anticipation

3: Leaving All

4: Fear, Courage and Foolishness

5: First Pass, First Desert

6: Drivers

7: Sun, Hills and Wind

8: In the Morning

9: Trying to Get Out of California

10: People Never Cease to Amaze

11: In the Afternoon

12: Attitude

13: Real Mountains

14: Harleys

15: A Tale of Two Cities

16: Life After Globe

17: Chateaubriand for Two

18: 2 Down, 5 To Go

19: We're Back!

20: A Hilltop Experience

21: Refiner's Fire

22: Beyond Balmorhea

23: Mid-Course Corrections

24: Out of the Desert

25: Flat and Wet

26: We Declare Victory

27: Reflections

Part II: 
Houston, TX to St. Augustine, FL
March-April 1998

28: Anticipation--Again!

29: First Day

30: High Island...Again

31: Roads and Bridges

32: Acadiana!

33: Across the Father of all Waters

34: BicycleLand

35: Event-Filled Sunday

36: Dauphin Island, Alabama

37: Louisiana & West Texas Culture

38: Reality Checks

39: Body, Mind & Soul

40: My Dad

41: It is Finished!

42: Awards

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Cross-Country Ramble 37: Louisiana & West Texas Culture

Date: 4/2/98 10:57:01 AM Central Standard Time

Louisiana and West Texas. West Texas and Louisiana. Here I am in Florida, three states past Louisiana and four states and two years past West Texas, and thoughts of these places are still swirling around in my mind. I think it's because these places challenge some of my notions of what America is and who Americans are. I wish I were a cultural anthropologist, so I'd know what I was talking about, but in this life, my naive efforts to understand will have to do.

Louisiana has a culture all its own, a living culture that has not yet been captured and packaged and made dead. Louisiana is not a theme park; Louisiana simply is what it is. I see signs of this culture in the houses people choose to build and live in, in the food they eat and in their dance and music.

Louisiana houses fascinate me. Most are three feet off the ground on blocks. Most have tin roofs. Most have columns. Most have porches that extend at least the whole length of one side of the house, and sometimes all four. I'd read about Palladian* architecture in books; here I saw more examples of Palladian architecture in a week than I'd seen previously in my whole life. The uniqueness of Louisiana style houses really strikes me when we come across little clots of American standard porchless built-on-a-slab asphalt-roofed ranch houses built during the 50's and 60's. They stick out like sore thumbs. Happily, it looks like the Louisiana cultural immune system has successfully rejected that attempted foreign implant; I don't see many recent houses built like that. I did see evidence that the current American trend toward ostentatious big houses has come to Louisiana, but with a difference: In other parts of the US, these big houses are typically crowded together on treeless small lots in developments and look out of place; the ones I saw in Louisiana are scattered here and there on big wooded lots and look like they belong.

I've already talked about the food. Spicy rice, crawfish, catfish and other sea food dishes appear on almost every non-fast-food menu. They're not labeled as anything special; they're just there alongside the more typically American food. A few restaurants do label themselves as Cajun, but they were the exception.

We might have found that the radio show we saw or the dance hall we went to would have been culture events packaged up for the tourists, but they weren't. Most all the folks there were Louisianans doing what Louisianans do.

In West Texas, too, I saw a living culture that was not standard American (nor was it standard Mexican for that matter). I saw it in the food and in the use of language. In other parts of the country, Mexican restaurants are labeled as such, and unlabelled restaurants serve American food. Here, none of the restaurants are labeled, but unlike unlabeled restaurants in the rest of America, these places serve both Mexican and American dishes to both Anglos & Mexicanos. This is true whether European-Americans or Mexican-Americans run them. This food is served by people who, whether Anglo or Mexicano, switch without hesitation from one language to another like they'd been speaking both languages all their lives. This isn't Mexico. This isn't America as I thought I knew it. This is something else.

Encountering these cultures put my mind into pondering mode. The people in these places don't fit into the categories I'd learned growing up in Michigan and living in Ohio and California. There, I learned to think in terms of foreigners and immigrants and assimilation and melting pot, and I was clear about who the foreigners and immigrants were, and who was supposed to assimilate and melt.

Assimilating and melting has occurred in West Texas and Louisiana, but not in the ways I might have expected. I think that a lot of the difference arises from the fact that in these places, Americans were the foreigners and immigrants; this was French or Mexican territory inhabited by French or Mexican people for hundreds of years before the Americans showed up.

I still don't know quite what to make of all this, but one thing that is clear to me is that I'll be more careful in my thinking about assimilation.

Ken

Itinerary (days from Ventura, CA, in ( )'s)

  • Day 26 (85) Crestview, FL
  • Day 27 (86) DeFuniac Springs, FL
  • Day 28-29 (87-88) Bonifay, FL

Fewer than two weeks to go!

*My recollection is that a Palladian house has a big middle section with lower wings on each side, and, in its complete form, outbuildings further out on each side.

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Copyright © 2008 Kenneth W. Lyon

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