Oral tradition is slowly dying out. Just twenty years ago, you would meet grandmothers and grandfathers on the street, and they would say, “Hey, I’ve got a story for you.” But now they just come up to me, hold out their phones, and say, “Have you seen this?” and laugh. It’s just not the same.
Today I decided to do what I can to resist that trend. I’ll tell you three short stories (or jokes) that showcase our Texas pride. If you find them worthy, you can even pass them on—just not through your phones.
I heard the first one from my father when I was about ten. It was my first encounter with this genre, and I was immediately hooked. It went like this:
“A man from Kentucky was talking to a Texan and boasting about all the gold they had at Fort Knox. The Kentucky man said, ‘You know, we have enough gold at Fort Knox to build a wall of solid gold, six feet high, all the way around Texas?’
The Texan replied, ‘Really? You know what, just build that wall—and if we like it, we’ll buy it.’”
Now, it’s not exactly a joke that would have you rolling on the floor laughing, but it was the first story of its kind I had ever heard, and I thought it was incredibly clever. At ten years old, I had no idea anything like it existed, and I immediately wanted to hear more.
Here’s another one:
This one comes from John Gunther’s book Inside U.S.A. You remember Gunther, who became famous for the quote: “If a man is from Texas, he’ll tell you himself. If he isn’t, why embarrass him by asking?”
Gunther writes that a man from Boston visited a friend in Texas. The Bostonian was tired from his journey and went to bed early. When he pulled back the covers, he was shocked to find a 12-inch lobster waiting for him underneath. Rather than let the Texan get the better of him with this prank, he picked up the lobster and carried it into the living room, where his friend was reading the newspaper.
He held up the lobster and said, “You sure have some big bedbugs here in Texas.”
The Texan looked over his newspaper, squinted at the lobster, and drawled, “Well, that one must still be a baby.”
The last story, a true Texas classic from the 1960s, concerns a proud Texan who died and went to heaven. Saint Peter was giving him an introductory tour to acquaint him with the beauty of the place.
First, he showed him snow-covered peaks reminiscent of the Swiss Alps, and the Texan said, “Well, they’re nice, if you like mountains completely covered in snow. I prefer mine with an occasional light dusting of snow and otherwise hot and dry, like we have in Big Bend (National Park).”
Then Saint Peter took the Texan by the elbow and flew him to a summit overlooking a sparkling mountain river.
“Have you ever seen a more beautiful shade of blue?” Saint Peter asked.
“No,” said the Texan, “but if you want to see the most beautiful turquoise river in the world, you have to see the Devils River in West Texas. Sorry to mention him, but that’s what it’s called. And don’t even get me started on the Guadalupe...”
Saint Peter interrupted him and pointed to an alpine forest whose leaves rippled in the gentle mountain breeze.
The Texan said, “Impressive, but nothing can steal my heart away from the pine forests of East Texas. Have you ever seen Big Thicket (National Preserve)?”
In desperation, Saint Peter flew the Texan to the very edge of heaven and let him look down. Far, far below was a dense inferno of fire and smoke stretching as far as the eye could see. Saint Peter said in an almost menacing tone, “What do you think of that?”
“That’s one mighty big fire, and it’s clearly out of control, but you know what, we’ve got some boys down in Houston who’ll put it out for you.”
