Texas Institute of Letters Awards Banquet

I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to attend the Texas Institute of Letters 83rd Annual Awards Banquet at the historic Casa de Palmas Hotel in McAllen last night. It was an incredible evening, and I was touched and inspired by the work that was shared and by the kindness of the people I met. I am truly grateful to have been invited to this wonderful event.

Chester Drawers?

I recently came in on the tail-end of a debate between a native of Fort Worth and a native of Oklahoma regarding the term "Chester drawers." They both had heard the term employed to describe a certain piece of furniture, and after speaking with them for a moment, I remembered the term from my childhood as well.

Thus, I decided to do a little research. According to the linguists Pyles and Algeo, "Chester drawers" is an example of folk etymology and is based on a misunderstanding of the term "chest of drawers," which is a common answer among Southerners to what linguists call "the bureau question." 

If I were ever to become a rodeo clown, I think I would go by the name Chester Drawers. It has a nicer ring than Chest O' Drawers or any other bureau-related name I can think of. 

Here is a link to an interesting article on the subject: 

http://www.waywordradio.org/Chester_Drawers.pdf

     

Deep in the Backcountry

While camping solo deep in the Yellowstone backcountry, up around Bighorn Peak, my relationship with books changed. Before I set out, a ranger told me that where I was camping, I probably would not encounter another human for another month. I only camped there a couple of days, but I did encounter another human. And that was F. Scott Fitzgerald.

In my backpack I was carrying The Great Gatsby, which I was reading for the second time, and there in the wilderness, many miles from the closest road, I felt as if I had a friend with me. In those years, I was reading Thoreau, Lao Tzu, Thomas Merton, and Plato, and though I felt a strong affinity to these writers, Fitzgerald somehow seemed like a lifelong friend.

Perhaps it was due to the sheer isolation, but my relationship with books deepened that day. On that bright day in the wilderness, a young writer learned the true, intimate power of the printed page. 

This is my old copy of The Great Gatsby, which is in pretty good condition considering how many miles it traveled in a pack in the mid-nineties, back in my Yellowstone years. Today it rests on a shelf here in Texas enjoying its retirement.