Henrietta Hay's Column

Librarians talk to librarians. Teachers talk to teachers. Truck drivers talk to truck drivers on their CD's. Computer programmers talk to computers. But columnists sit in little rooms by themselves and don't have anybody to talk to. So when the number of nationally syndicated columnists whom I have met personally rose to two recently, I was very happy. It is comforting to talk to another columnist and find that all those hours I spend staring at a blank computer screen, hoping that something will jump-start the creative juices, are shared by others far more experienced than I.

I met Molly Ivins in Denver a couple of years ago and decided I want to be Molly when I grow up. She writes wonderful political satire, and for pure ridicule of the pompous and ineffective, nobody can beat her. She's the one who advised me to keep on raisin' hell, and don't forget to keep laughin'. I get her column off the Internet.

I have enjoyed Joe Murray's column in the Sentinel for several years, and finally got to meet him when he came to town recently to scope Happy Valley. He travels a lot and writes about the amazing peculiarities of human beings in various parts of the world, including his native Texas. He also writes about the interesting collection of wandering dogs, which tend to adopt him and his wife in Lufkin.

He wanted to meet me because he wanted to know how a political liberal (that awful "L" word) fared writing a column in such a conservative area. Quite well, I assured him. We may be a hotbed of conservatism, but we are generally friendly and we love living in western Colorado enough to forgive each other's peculiarities most of the time. We are considered to be Denver's stepchildren, so we have to stick together.

By coincidence or fate, the two writers whom I now call by their first names are both from east Texas. They both love their state, but they also love making fun of it.

According to Joe, we may think we're conservative, but east Texas is really a separate nation. At the very least it is a separate culture. There are some towns in the U. S. A., which have one, or two men named Bubba. In east Texas nearly all the men are named Bubba. There are three degrees of culture there: east Texas, deep east Texas and deep, dark east Texas. They are patriotic, too. Red, white and blue means red necks, blue collars and white sheets. But he has lived there all his life and always returns.

Molly, also, talks a lot about her home state. "I love the state of Texas, but I regard that as a harmless perversion on my part and would not foist my pathology off on anyone else. Texas is a dandy place in short spells... The reason the sky is bigger here is because there aren't any trees."

When two columnists get together, no matter how far apart they are in experience and style, they naturally talk shop. Joe has been in the newspaper business all his life. This column is only five years old, but we share the excitement - and the pain.

I asked him whether it ever gets any easier. His answer was short and specific. "No." There is one rule for columnists, WWWWW-R. Write, write, write, write, write -- and re-write.

I commented that in a town this size I know a lot of my readers personally, so there are some subjects that are off limits, and a certain amount of personal discretion is required. When he quit laughing he said, "What do you think it's like to know your mother reads your stuff?" He went on to explain to me why my crone theory is true. The crones rule the world because they don't have to worry about what their mothers will say.

Joe Murray took lots of notes in his tiny pocket notebook. I wonder what he thinks of Happy Valley. Guess I'll find out before too long. Good luck in your travels, Joe. And be careful what you write. Your mother will be reading it.