That's right, I'm not from Texas (but I've been there)

Facebook really is a pretty amazing thing. I think I found a guy who was an intern at the same time I was back in the late 1980s at the Corvallis Gazette-Times. He was from Texas and at the end of the internship, he invited me to drive back to Texas with him.

Perhaps it was because I had passed up any opportunity to visit Texas a couple of years earlier. I had dated a woman who was from Texas and she used to talk about taking me there. I really wasn't interested in going someplace I had never been before and where I didn't know anyone. It was outside my comfort zone. I came to regret that lack of interest and adventure.

So when the opportunity presented itself that summer, I think it was 1987, I decided to go and had a great time. It was a trip full of firsts.

Tom and I went out of our way to drive through Las Vegas, just because we could. It was the first time I had been to Vegas. It's ironic that in later years I came to love that city so much, because on that road trip, seeing Vegas in the middle of the day in late summer, it didn't impress. It was hotter than hell. The middle-age people roaming the streets in their polyester garb looked tacky as did the shiny, glittery facades of the city. I don't even know what part of the city Tom and I saw. It seemed so hellish and surreal. We didn't linger long and got the hell out of town and down the road.

We stopped at tacky souvenir shops. I wonder whatever happened to the Texas flag and set of steer horns I picked up on that trip? For years I had the University of Texas tank top I picked up in Austin. I was not a Longhorns fan, but it always reminded me of that trip and I loved that shirt.

Many of the memories of that trip have grown fuzzy with time. But some impressions of that trip have stuck with me. I remember seeing the El Paso city limit sign long before seeing El Paso, and then not seeing much of anything for hours and hours after passing the west Texas border town.

I would have loved to spend more time in San Antonio or San Marcos or Austin, but was only there a few days. The people there were amazing and made me feel so welcome. Maybe it was the soft Southern drawl so many spoke with, particularly the young women Tom introduced me to on the trip. They would say y'all and I would melt. I even started to say y'all too. I remember Tom chastising me for that. I think he thought I was making fun of his friends and the way they spoke. Far from it. I was fascinated, hypnotized by it. I wanted to be a Texan too.

Years later, I would think of that whenever I would hear Lyle Lovett's song "That's Right (Your Not From Texas)." I think if I had stayed there any longer, I may never have left. But all too soon I flew out of Austin and returned to Oregon. I left Texas, but I still carry parts of that trip with me.

I have a soft spot for Texas, or perhaps more accurately, Texans. Other than those few days, I've only been back in Texas to change planes at Dallas-Fort Worth. But Texans have been pivotal figures in my life. One is a friend who stood by me at my lowest point and helped me climb out of that pit. One is a friend who has shared his home, his cooking and his martinis and conversation and is willing to call me on my careless grammar (thanks Gene). And one was a former gymnast who introduced me to seafood and taught me to look beyond the outer image a woman presents to see the person inside.

And then there was Tom, who disliked country music except for a guy named George Strait, who's music I had never heard. Tom talked me in to traveling to Texas. And now, thanks to Facebook, I may be able to connect with someone I haven't talked to in decades. And, if nothing else, it got me thinking about some great times, great places and great people.