Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Merch! (or Shane & Schaack are, indeed, crazy)
Head over to the DWO website for info on t-shirts, tour updates, and a new original song! The tour starts SUNDAY, come if you can! Bring your friends! We need clappers!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Movin' Mavs
UT-Arlington doesn't have a football team (sacrilege in Texas, I would have thought) and, in fact, isn't very good at all when it comes to sports . The Movin' Mavs, however, are an exception-- they have won the national championship 7 times since 1989. Who are the Movin' Mavs? UTA's wheelchair basketball team, that's who.
I went to my first game on Friday night and I believe, for the first time in my life, that I might actually be capable of becoming a sports fan. The Movin' Mavs play in Texas Hall-- a strange auditorium-like court with bleachers on one side and more wheel-chair friendly theater-style seating on the other side. The whole set-up is pretty much indistinguishable from a "regular" college basketball game-- terrific athletes, cheerleaders, a maverick mascot, raffles, etc.-- except for the fact that it is inherently much more exhilarating to watch these athletes achieve their goals given the extra challenges playing basketball from a wheelchair presents (farther shots, more one-handed shots, and some pretty serious crashing on defense). It was awesome to catch a glimpse of the game this past weekend and I am looking forward to going to their next home game in early December. If you live in Arlington, come with me! If you don't, check out the fantastic documentary on wheelchair rugby called Murderball that came out in 2005-- it is excellent.
I went to my first game on Friday night and I believe, for the first time in my life, that I might actually be capable of becoming a sports fan. The Movin' Mavs play in Texas Hall-- a strange auditorium-like court with bleachers on one side and more wheel-chair friendly theater-style seating on the other side. The whole set-up is pretty much indistinguishable from a "regular" college basketball game-- terrific athletes, cheerleaders, a maverick mascot, raffles, etc.-- except for the fact that it is inherently much more exhilarating to watch these athletes achieve their goals given the extra challenges playing basketball from a wheelchair presents (farther shots, more one-handed shots, and some pretty serious crashing on defense). It was awesome to catch a glimpse of the game this past weekend and I am looking forward to going to their next home game in early December. If you live in Arlington, come with me! If you don't, check out the fantastic documentary on wheelchair rugby called Murderball that came out in 2005-- it is excellent.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Mingling the Sacred and the Profane
As many of you know, I have been struggling (with moderate success) to find the hidden charms of my new home state. I have always been pretty much a "home is where you hang your hat" kind of girl, but looking back I now realize that the places I have actually moved to (not just visited) have often required some similar kind of resourceful charm hunting in the beginning. Richmond (IN), Gainesville (FL), and Bloomington (IN) were not, at first glance, the coolest places to live, but somehow or another they each grew on me over time and I departed each one appreciating their physical beauty, seedy underbellies, and distinctive flavors. I hope the same will hold true for Arlington, but after 10 months here (10 months!) I was beginning to question when my appreciation for this place might start to unfurl. The answer: this week.
It started with a talk I went to last Thursday. It turns out, a dear childhood friend of mine, Mari, lives in Duncanville (about 20 minutes down the road from Arlington) and we recently got back in touch with each other (via good old fashioned moms-calling-moms on the telephone, no facebook required). Mari's uncle, Joe Nick Patoski, is a writer and has authored several books on various aspects of Texas including 3 biographies on famous Texans-- Selena, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and, most recently, Willie Nelson. Joe Nick's main thesis, in his life and in his
writing, is that Texas is a unique place that breeds unique people. He is a proud, unapologetic, likeable Texan (a very rare combination) and was recently honored as Author of the Year by the Friends of the Duncanville Library Association (admittedly, in part, because Mari nominated him). His speech on Thursday night was about why he thinks Texas is unique and why Texas music, in particular, embodies the state's distinctive essence. He talked about cultural diversity in Texas-- a place where mexicans, "anglos", blacks, vietnamese, czechs, cajuns, red-necks, hippies, and baptists interact and observe each other. I think I have mentioned before that my favorite thing about UT-Arlington is the diverse student body and it definitely extends beyond the college campus. Even though the rest of the world has a distinctive stereotype when they hear the word "texan", it turns out that is (at best) the weak majority and probably won't be for long. Joe Nick's biographies focus on musicians at the intersection of some of these boundaries who, collectively, represent a much more interesting version of the word "texan" than the stereotype: Selena, a tejana (a texan of mexican descent) who became a national phenom in both the US and Mexico before her early and tragic death; Stevie Ray, born in Oak Cliff (a racially charged area south of Dallas in which the schools were not 
officially declared desegregated until 2003), who was a prominent guitarist able to successfully fuse blues and country guitar despite sociopolitical hurdles rendering them unlikely bedfellows; and Willie, who has managed to bridge the gap between the upstanding, church-going, farmers of the dry county in which he was born with the whiskey-swilling cowboys, pot-smoking hippies, and beer-brewing immigrants in the wet county to which he went every day to perform. In other words, Willie successfully "mingled the sacred and the profane"-- an idea that I believe must be turned into a song itself and that Joe Nick believes is the heart of Texas. Although I am sure most places in America embody similar contrasts if you look closely enough, I have to admit that Joe Nick's thoughts and observations made me appreciate Texas much more than I had an hour earlier that day. I don't think I will be flying a Texas flag outside the trailer any time soon, but I definitely felt some unfurling this past week. Thanks for the invitation Mari!
It started with a talk I went to last Thursday. It turns out, a dear childhood friend of mine, Mari, lives in Duncanville (about 20 minutes down the road from Arlington) and we recently got back in touch with each other (via good old fashioned moms-calling-moms on the telephone, no facebook required). Mari's uncle, Joe Nick Patoski, is a writer and has authored several books on various aspects of Texas including 3 biographies on famous Texans-- Selena, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and, most recently, Willie Nelson. Joe Nick's main thesis, in his life and in his
writing, is that Texas is a unique place that breeds unique people. He is a proud, unapologetic, likeable Texan (a very rare combination) and was recently honored as Author of the Year by the Friends of the Duncanville Library Association (admittedly, in part, because Mari nominated him). His speech on Thursday night was about why he thinks Texas is unique and why Texas music, in particular, embodies the state's distinctive essence. He talked about cultural diversity in Texas-- a place where mexicans, "anglos", blacks, vietnamese, czechs, cajuns, red-necks, hippies, and baptists interact and observe each other. I think I have mentioned before that my favorite thing about UT-Arlington is the diverse student body and it definitely extends beyond the college campus. Even though the rest of the world has a distinctive stereotype when they hear the word "texan", it turns out that is (at best) the weak majority and probably won't be for long. Joe Nick's biographies focus on musicians at the intersection of some of these boundaries who, collectively, represent a much more interesting version of the word "texan" than the stereotype: Selena, a tejana (a texan of mexican descent) who became a national phenom in both the US and Mexico before her early and tragic death; Stevie Ray, born in Oak Cliff (a racially charged area south of Dallas in which the schools were not 
officially declared desegregated until 2003), who was a prominent guitarist able to successfully fuse blues and country guitar despite sociopolitical hurdles rendering them unlikely bedfellows; and Willie, who has managed to bridge the gap between the upstanding, church-going, farmers of the dry county in which he was born with the whiskey-swilling cowboys, pot-smoking hippies, and beer-brewing immigrants in the wet county to which he went every day to perform. In other words, Willie successfully "mingled the sacred and the profane"-- an idea that I believe must be turned into a song itself and that Joe Nick believes is the heart of Texas. Although I am sure most places in America embody similar contrasts if you look closely enough, I have to admit that Joe Nick's thoughts and observations made me appreciate Texas much more than I had an hour earlier that day. I don't think I will be flying a Texas flag outside the trailer any time soon, but I definitely felt some unfurling this past week. Thanks for the invitation Mari!
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