Adventures in and Around Fort Worth

By Jocelyn Tatum  I n the 12 years that I have been going to Marfa almost annually, a lot has changed. But the small-town-in-a-vast-desert charm has stayed the same. Here are a few things I always plan to do in my two days and two nights in Marfa.  First, drive. I know it seems like it is far away, and it is, but this road trip goes fast because there is no traffic headed west and away from civilization. Driving is part of the right of passage to get there. I also feel like I shed the societal sludge that builds up on my shoulders as I careen across Interstate 20.  Once you turn off onto HWY 17 in Pecos, the drive starts to transition from sulfur and pumpjacks to pure beauty. It always reminds me of my road trip though the Scottish Highlands. My thoughts change with the landscape. Again, no traffic and no crowds. A tip: when you do pass a fellow road warrior once you get into the mountains, give them the friendly L-shaped finger wave the locals do th...

photo credit: wikimedia My last trip of the summer takes me to the Texas coast. It's time to go after days of play, but I need one last moment on the shore.  A few others are there doing the same. They stare out at the gilded waves reflecting the new morning sun. Two thoughts undulate in my head—someone bigger than we are had to organize this, and timelessness mixed with newness. Saltwater and waves have been around since the beginning, but the life within is new and ever-changing. Ancient Greek tragedies and comedies, settlers, explorers and travelers find their stories' epicenter in the ocean.  I then remember I'm not alone in my adoration. The opening paragraphs of Moby-Dick speak to humankind's shared fascination with water: "There now is your unsular city of the Manhattoes, belted by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where t...

A man with long white hair and a beard leans back against the steps reaching up to Federal Hall on 26 Wall Street. He plays the national anthem on his flute. Like the mild summer air coming off the Atlantic, the anthem ubiquitously floats around the Financial District reminding our small group where it all started. This site was New York City’s 18 th -centry City Hall where you could say the First Amendment was born. It’s no wonder newspaperman John Peter Zenger won his fight to print government corruption in his publication—the United States was born out of an intolerance for authoritarian, monarchial governments. Zenger’s acquittal marked a most important founding moment in our history—the freedom to expose injustices is no small potatoes. After all, the press is considered the fourth branch of the U.S. government, and essential part of the checks and balances system. It was a great surprise to stumble onto this site during my latest NYC trip. 

The (New) World Trade Center: Tower 1 My last night in New York City the cab driver taking us to dinner asked me where I was from. “Texas,” I said defensively. Everyone thinks Texans are wealthy because we are from the “Land of Bush and Oil,” so I deflected and asked him where he was from. After more prodding, he started to tell me his story, and it moved me to tears. He grew up in poverty in Bangladesh but left for New York City 25 years ago at 40 years old. His family wasn't able to come to the U.S. until 12 years after his move.  It took him that long to get legal citizenship and safely bring them over. He labored long hours for years as bussing tables in a restaurant at an age when his body was already tired. His English was broken, but from what I understood, he said the restaurant owner noticed his work ethic, asked him work as a cook. He soon after applied for his green card. He said after five years he took an exam and then got approval for citizenship. The m...

His first pair of blue jeans, cowboy boots, and his first rodeo.  Bucking broncos and bulls send cowboys flying, tough cowgirls whirl around barrels as their horses' hooves thunder back into a tunnel beneath the stands, and children scramble to catch their calves for prize money.  All of these things are reminiscent of the past, but the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo remind us city folks that the Wild West still lives right under our nose. Every winter Jan. 17-Feb. 8, cowboys from as far as France and Australia move to Fort Worth for a few weeks to show us how it's done. They perform daring tasks actually practiced on ranches all over the world to show off their antiquated skills and win prize money. And yes, these cowboys are the real deal. No show ponies here. This long-lived North Texas tradition is one I recommend for everyone. I go at least twice every year. Evening performances sell for $25 a ticket, and matinees $19. The event is held at the historic an...

Yet another trip to Marfa, Texas. This time I got to sleep in a teepee. For 2014, dare to do something different than usual. Stretch yourself. I left my comfort zone when I entered the community outdoor showers and slept in a fabric hut with only a zipper between me and the rest of the world. I hope to finish my article about this weekend getaway soon and will post. I just need to find the time to write it and pitch it to a travel magazine! Stay tuned... Our front door had a zipper.  I loved this so much I had artist Kristen Soble paint it for me in watercolor. We rented bikes. 

West Wing After days of freezing rain, the sun comes out 11.26.2013 View of the original Kimbell building designed by L. Kahn from the new Piano Pavilion lobby Piano elegantly frames Fort Worth history—The Will Rogers Memorial Coliseum and its allée elms The Kimbell's Kahn Building the night of the Piano Pavilion Grand Opening Party 11.24.2013 What was once architectural silence, the lawn is now a space where Piano weaves the sacred (art viewing) with the profane (socializing). 

View of original Kimbell building from the new pavilion. I pulled my car into the Kimbell Art Museum's sparkling monochromatic underground parking garage. The museum's Renzo Piano Pavilion opened to members this morning, and after months of research I'm afire.  Talk about whether this building will complicate or take away from the original Kimbell Art Museum designed by Kahn have swirled internationally for years—whether the green space that once represented silence will be ruined, whether the jewel box masterpiece actually needed to grow, and why one should augment something that is considered a perfect work of architecture. I grew up close to this museum and was distraught when they erected the ugly tarp and dug into the sacred lawn I once sat by myself and sketched the allée elms or read philosophy texts.  After three years of digging the tarp is gone, and much of the green space intact. I jump into the transparent, glass elevator, float onto the lawn facin...