Guest Blogger #20
Hmmm. How to explain Lucas?
You've heard about Lucas a couple of times in the past few weeks, particularly regarding his recent trip to Texas to visit his good friend, who happens to be my daughter. Now we get his side.
I actually laughed out loud when I read this piece, by the way, and I'm a hard laugh.
See, I understand. We're iconoclasts here in the Pacific Northwest, and isolated. We've got mountains to our east, water to our west, and mountains west of THAT. We are polite but distant, our politics are liberal, and we wear hiking boots to church, when we bother to go, which is not often.
OK, that's a dumb generalization. There are lots of different people up here. Hey, diversity is one of our strong points. But if you sneak behind the stereotype, you'll find Lucas.
Lucas is the poster boy for Western Washington. He knows how to order a latte, he plays the viola, he's the offspring of a scientist and an attorney, he's comfortable with firearms, and he's probably more comfortable on top of a mountain than any place else. He goes to college in Montana, after all.
He thinks George Bush is Satan, too. Just so you understand.
So I can see how he'd look at the rest of the country, particularly east and south of us, with a jaundiced eye. He's 20, after all. Raised in an Episcopalian household in a Blue State, we can't blame him for looking at Texas and seeing Bible thumpers, rednecks and neanderthals, even though a couple of days in Austin would have cured him of that notion.
Still, it made me smile, his impressions of life in Texas and his willingness to learn. Yeah, I know, I've been to Texas; they don't have mountains and if there's green grass there, I've missed it. But there are good and interesting people, too, and an amazing history and fascinating terrain and an awesome NBA team, and if Lucas trafficked a bit in stereotypes then shoot: You probably have some opinions about us, too. We still get along. And Lucas obviously got an education.
In fact, I thought about titling this "Lucas Learns," but then I thought a little more.
Stranger In A Strange Land
By Lucas Eaton
I had never been to Texas before, nor had I even the slightest bit of desire to set foot in the state that, considering my political and social upbringing, would be a sin to even visit. But, as Chuck has posted on his blog before, I've always been very curious and eager to see new places and meet new people. I had promised my dear friend Beth a visit sometime during our college years, so a trip into the heart of Jesusland was certainly in order.
Beth told me I had to come dressed “as Northwest as possible,” which was not a problem at all. I got off the plane wearing socks with my new Teva sandals, khaki shorts, a Nirvana shirt, and my backpack (camelback attached); not to mention my long hair and beard. We quickly left the gargantuan DFW airport and Beth drove us to her quaint little home in Denton. On the way we passed dozens of strip malls and fast food restaurants, as well as a Costco-sized worship house she dubbed the “deathstar church.” Yep - I was in Texas, and so was Beth.
I already knew she was somewhat Texanized from listening to her accent on the phone. Now I could fully gauge how much Beth has changed, and get a glimpse into her college life. It's always interesting mixing college life with home life. I've done it several times, having Montana friends visit Seattle, and Seattle friends visit Montana; yielding generally positive, but sometimes mixed, results. Now it was time for me to be the guest, and not the host. Beth was curious - even worried - about how well received this “mountain man” from the Northwest would be.
It all went well, in my opinion. I became well acquainted with Laura, Jessica, and Cameron, and I also met scores of gay men. In fact, one morning while Beth was still sleeping, Laura and I went to one of the hundreds of IHOPs that dot the paved landscape of the Dallas area. (I think everyone should have a Texas IHOP experience.) Wearing my “not my president” anti-Bush shirt, I was greeted with nasty stares and silent whisperings from the obese clientele. Seated uncomfortably close to us was the mullet man who eerily peered at me the entire time I ate. Despite the hostile and creepy environment, Laura and I got to know each other a little better, and I gained a deeper insight into the life of a Texan. Beth’s friends seemed so normal; like they could be my friends---or maybe my friends in a few years (with no access to outdoor activities).
On one of the last days of my trip, I accompanied Beth and her singing companion to church. As one of my many social experiments, I decided to wear yet another anti-Bush shirt on this fine Sunday morning. Beth warned me we were in the middle of the Bible Belt. I was fully expecting the members of the First Christian Church of Gainesville to condemn me to Hell, so I planned out how to respond to their criticisms. However, when I entered and sat down, the old church ladies were perfectly friendly and welcoming. As I looked around, it struck me that I was deep in the heart of real America. This was one of those towns in a high school football movie. I was positive that after church the old women would all go gossip at the local café, then return to their white picket fence home, greet the milk man with a smile, and bake an apple pie for their grandkids.
As for the service, to my surprise, the sermon preached acceptance, not hate, two lesbians were welcomed into the congregation, and I even got two positive comments on my shirt. This was apparently rather unusual, and Beth assured me it was a very conservative church in general.
As you may know, Beth is now old and mature, and I am still young and (somewhat) immature. At college, my friends and I moon people, play Frisbee, and laugh at all of our burps and farts. We hike and backpack and go shooting and sledding. Beth pays bills, goes to work, and probably even has people over for dinner. She’s settled and content with her new adult life, but she still is the same old Beth—just in a new environment. It really couldn’t be any other way though; that’s part of the reason our friendship works.
9:34:25 AM 
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