The Tejano Soul of San Antonio (Published 1992) (2024)

I'M A MIDWESTERNER, CHICAGO BORN AND bred. So what am I doing living in Texas long after circ*mstance and necessity brought me here? Even my family can't understand why I wear pointy boots and a suede cowboy hat. It's not a cowboy hat, it's northern Mexican, but who's listening.

Maybe it's the sense of history here -- the sense of story. Maybe it's los Tejanos -- the Texans of Mexican descent. Their sense of knowing they belong to the land, no matter what the textbooks say. The sense of belonging, of contributing to this history. Something I never felt in Illinois.

In Texas I just want to sing like Lucha Villa, drive my pickup down I-35 beneath a brilliant sky, clouds big and loose as pajamas. Because believe it or not, I'm home. Closer than I've ever been. Open my lungs and belt out to the prickly pear "Ay mi querido publico, como les quiero." And cry a little. Every good ranchera singer must cry.

Somewhere between New Braunfels and San Antonio, the landscape and the language change, the hills give out to flat lands, little by little mile by mile -- dust, pecan trees, mesquite, nopalitos. Then Nogalitos. Picoso. Dolorosa. Soledad. Culebra. Zarzamora. The names of San Antonio streets like the names of herbs. Because this is another country. This is the borderland. The beginning of Latin America. A place where two cultures collide, spark, spar, bleed and sometimes create something wonderful.

A nice thing to live in a town where people know how to pronounce your name. Where you can walk down the street and you're not the minority. Where 55.6 percent of a population of 935,933 has a Spanish-language surname. Say what you will, I don't care if it was designated an "All American City," San Antonio is the most Mexican city this side of the Rio Grande. It's the Mexican culture that gives San Antonio its unique flavor. It's not called Saint Anthony, you know.

Forget the Riverwalk. Though if you want to, I'll take you to that tourist promenade. Dinner at Boudro's, the only place on the river that serves real food, or dessert at the Kangaroo Court. Especially if it's Christmas and the luminarias and trees are lighted up -- it's pretty, all right. Forget the Alamo. Cause of more divisiveness than is worth the trouble. You want spiritual, the real spirit of this city, I'll show you.