A letter to an editor...

Howdy,

I read nytimes.com religiously and on the occasion that I am lunching solo, such as today, I purchase the print version for a date.

We found ourselves at an outdoor cafe in weather that is unusual for Houston but nostalgic for me. The breeze through the oak trees gently wisped around us and before I flipped the first page open, I closed my eyes. I was reminded of dipping my toes into Johnson Creek on the first day of summer. I thought of my high school friend Amanda, a native transplant currently in NYC who was pining for Texas in a recent Facebook status update. I thought of my friend Jamie who recently moved to Copenhagen, Denmark; I wondered if his cowboy boots were wearing in the stirrups of his bicycle and his pride the women, like any good pair of boots and Texan will do. I thought of running barefoot through the hills with my little brother before we knew Gap was something other than a clearing in the woods.

Half an hour later and now an expert on ACORN, I bit into a lemon cookie as I unfolded C31. Immediately, I recognized Robert Earl Keen. I flashed back to the first time I saw him live in concert. It was August of 1999 at the Gillespie County Fairgrounds -- I was 16, standing in a body of swaying, singing sweat, and in complete awe. He was a legend even then and especially among my generation of small-town Texans. Lyle Lovett is a God, if that tells you anything.

Life has always had a way of setting me up for these simple surprises, but finding Tammy LaGroce’s “The Charms of the Big City in the Texas Hill Country” left me especially enamored in the midst of my reminisces. She transcended 99% of everything that has been written about my hometown on the subjects of hassle-free urban living and tourism.

That one itty-bitty %, you’re wondering? Starbucks. Kerrville was cool before Starbucks. Cooler if you ask me.

Big Lone Star love,

Elle