A Fallen Icon

A little factoid about the Knowles/Krumbholz/Cook Clan: we rarely ever do things just once. Once is called a trial run, twice is called a make-sure-we-like-it, three times is called a tradition, and the first thing you learn in this family is that NO ONE messes with tradition.

Family Day at the State Fair of Texas is one of these traditions. It has been since forever ago. The Tyler folks drive down together in a big suburban, along the way we listen to tales of Uncle Johnny getting lost and discuss the newest additions to the fried offerings, the first person to see the Dallas skyline gets a quarter, and everyone says "Wait, who has the sunscreen?" at least twice. Then we meet the Dallas relatives at the designated meeting spot, which has been the designated meeting spot since forever ago, mainly because of its proximity to Fletcher's corny dog stand - conducive to grabbing one (or two or three) while you wait for everyone to show up. This designated meeting spot would be Big Tex. The love of every Texan girl's life.

Sadly, though, this pillar of my childhood has gone up in flames. Literally. Big Tex caught on fire. wut. I heard the news via Twitter and almost cried during class. (No hate. I'm just a crier, ok? Call it another one of those Knowles traditions.) I follow a lot of Texas accounts, so I got inundated with photos. Then my father, who up until this point in his 6+ monthlong Twitter career has never found anything worth tweeting, sent out a tweet about it. And then even sent another. Then my mom sent me a text about it. Big Tex = Big Deal to this household. (by the way, props, Dad. you're on your way to making it in the blagosphere, one tweet at a time.)

Big Tex, here's to the years you stood gallant and true, welcoming one and all to the State Fair of Texas. You've gone to the State Fair in the Sky now, cowboy, and we will miss you dearly. One day your successor will rise - may his Wranglers ever be as spiffy as yours always were.