A Note to Newcomers: We’ll Make You a Texan Yet!

IT WAS SOMETHING I DIDN’T EXPECT. Moving to a new city, you anticipate being a little disoriented and isolated at first. Getting your bearings and meeting people takes time.

But when I moved to Dallas in 1991,1 was not prepared for the treatment I received. Under the oft-touted, genuine Southern hospitality that greeted me right away was the sense that native Texans are just so proud of their birth right that I somehow felt not quite a part of things.

For example, whenever I would meet someone new, the conversation went something like this:

“Hi. my name is Tex.” “Oh, hello, I’m Adrienne.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist.”

“That’s great. I rustle cattle.”

Then that question. “Where are you from?”

“Pennsylvania,” I’d reply proudly.

“Oh, a transplant. ” Tex’s voice would rise, then sharply drop off into a near whisper: “So, have we made you a Texan yet?” was always the next line.

Hold on just a minute. A transplant! ? That doesn’t sound like something I want to be; it sounds so clinical, so misplaced. I would prefer Philadelphian, Pennsylvanian, even Northerner. And what’s this about making me a Texan? Am I going to have to go through some ritual or pledge week or something?

All of this really took me aback at first, What’s so great about Texas and Dallas? I wondered. I grew up thinking that because we were the United States, traveling-or moving-from state to state would be painless. But after moving to Dallas, I experienced a kind of city and state pride that made me think we-uh, they-were still fighting Mexico for the land.

Well, now that I have lived here for five years, I know from whence that certitude comes.

First, the people are unequaled in their friendliness. No matter where I go, or where I work, it’s there. And it’s not just “being polite” friendly. People take time to get to know you and really care about you, even if they just met you two minutes ago.

When my sister-in-law came to visit last spring, she decided to take a walk around my Piano neighborhood while my husband and I watched our niece. When she came back, the first words out of her mouth were, “I just can’t believe it. Everyone I passed, whether mowing their yard or walking their dog, said hello to me.” That would never happen in Philadelphia-even in the suburbs. Unless you know them, you usually don’t acknowledge a passerby.

At that moment I started to understand this Dallas thing. Suddenly, I was proud of my new hometown. “I know, isn’t that great? ” 1 said, recalling the time my husband and 1 couldn’t lift a heavy tiller out of the back of our car and a neighbor I had never met stopped gardening and willingly followed me to our garage when I solicited his help.

And there is also the lure of the large lifestyle. Texans-Dallasites in particular- make it a point to live comfortably, and often that seems to mean big, as in Texas-sized. It seems that everything here really is larger than life and meant to be that much more enjoyable. Stores, roadways, houses, parks, the Fair, entrees at restaurants; need I go on? And Texans are right; big in most cases makes things so convenient-like the grocery stores that grow here. The Tom Thumb/Simon David on Abrams at Skillman is so big they have a balcony restaurant that looks out over the grocery aisles packed with goods. By the time you’ve shopped half the store, you almost need to stop, have lunch, and scan with a bird’s-eye view the aisles you’re going to tackle next.

And finally there’s that Texas tenacity, the genuine desire I’ve noticed in the people here to get things done (the Dallas City Council excluded). It’s an atmosphere of determination, where people don’t question whether something will be done, but plan on how and when it will be done. Take D/FW International Airport, one of the finest in the world. Residents and leaders here value the airport as their personal and business connection to other parts of the country and the world, thus making it an even more exciting place to be.

The airport is a great draw for us “transplants,” because it makes it easy to visit family and friends. I used to be so excited when I flew into Philadelphia, flying over the old Naval shipyards and trying to spot William Penn atop City Hall. That meant home. But now, that feeling hits me on the return trip. I smile when I see the neon green lights on the NationsBank Plaza building and the flash of the Reunion Tower ball.

Suddenly, I don’t feel so out of place as a transplant. I have realized that mixed among the native Texans are the “adopted” Texans, who not unlike an organ transplanted into the human body, make Dallas stronger and more vibrant, and give the city hope for the future. Now I’m proud to be a Dallasite. I know, I wasn’t born here, but this community-these people-have taken me in.

Now that conversation I have with someone I’m meeting for the first time goes something like this:

“Hi, my name is Tex.”

“Oh, hello, I’m Adrienne.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist.”

“That’s great. I rustle cattle.”

“Where are you from?”

“Piano,” I reply proudly.

“Hey, that’s a great suburb. It’s just booming. My brother just bought a house there… “

Have we made you a Texan yet?