Tragedy / Return to the 90s (Tarrant County)

TRAGEDY | Tragedy struck our nation this week, with the deaths of two black men at the hands of police, and then struck our city on Thursday with the deaths of five police officers at the hands of a domestic terrorist. These are sad times, and it is the moral obligation of all Texans to stand up for justice — against violence, against racism, and against hate. Dallas is a city of inclusion and opportunity, and we will heal. But healing will require help from each of us — voting with our feet, our words, and our dollars.

For me personally, this tragedy has brought new focus to my efforts to chronicle the diversity of Texas and Texans, and to participate in democracy through social engagement. Taking cues from De Tocqueville and Steinbeck, Lone Star State, I am eager to make your acquaintance.

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RETURN TO THE 90’s | Usually, I choose my own destinations and itineraries. This weekend’s itinerary in Fort Worth was a gift from my husband, and I can therefore claim no credit for its brilliance or thematic cohesion. Yes, I am a lucky woman.

The rivalry between Dallas and its sister city Fort Worth runs generations. Amon Carter, the legendary Fort Worth enthusiast and founder of its Star Tribune, coined the idea that Dallas is where the “East” ends, while Fort Worth is where the “West” begins. He is also rumored to have brown-bagged his lunches during meetings in Dallas so that he would not have to patronize Dallas restaurants.

This rivalry represents deep differences between the two cities: separate geologies and ecosystems, different economies and growth trajectories, disparate positions on the political spectrum, and a vastly different pace of life. To any outsider: Dallas, while perhaps not as avant-garde as its sibling cities on the coast, is a modern city. Meanwhile, for better and worse, it can feel like the 1990s in Fort Worth. But since I love 90’s rock, torn jeans, manicured sidewalks, and political engagement without cynicism, please allow me to extoll my perfect day in Fort Worth.

We arrived just before noon at Spiral Diner in Southside, a funky commercial corridor just south of downtown and at the edge of the Fairmount Historic District. Though Spiral (a 50s-themed vegan diner) has a franchise in Dallas, we still behaved like tourists, devouring the incredible cashew-cheese quesadillas and chickenless chick’n salad. We also devoured the animal rights literature and information on various community gatherings available at the register.

Full and in need of a caffeine pick me up, we headed across the street to Avoca for a quick iced latte. Then, down the road to The Last Word Bookstore, a 5-week old independent bookstore whose shelves are quickly winnowing toward only books that the owner likes. I perused his “books from 80 countries” — which included many of my favorites from Murakami to Diaz to Bulgakov — before settling on a pick from native Texan Larry McMurty.

We then braved the heat and humidity at the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens, which boasts both an incredible native plant garden and one of the best Japanese gardens in the country. Many of the materials were provided directly from Japan by international sister city Nagoya, and indeed, the entire experience was oddly reminiscent of our April visit to Kyoto, with koi ponds, pagodas, elegant oaks and a careful use of stone and structure. Adding another dimension of exchange to this cross-cultural delight was the diversity of people enjoying the garden: children of all ages and backgrounds, and couples and friends from neighborhoods throughout the region.

We retreated from the heat at the Amon Carter Museum of American Art. The stunning building — which starchitect Phillip Johnson dubbed the defining project of his career — is home to an equally stunning rotating collection of American works from the Hudson River School through the modern masters and beyond.

Students will quickly recognize the works of Singer Sargent and O’Keefe, but we were most dazzled by two temporary exhibitions. The first was a collection of photographs by Anthony Hernandez chronicling “discarded” places in Southern California after the 2008 recession, including homes abandoned before construction was completed, fenced plots of desert with surveyors posts, and a man living in an abandoned bus. The second was a remarkable exhibition of abstract painter Norman Lewis’s works spanning several decades. I was most moved by his hard-hitting representations of the civil rights struggle through the 60s and 70s.

We headed south of town to Bonnell’s for dinner — a celebration of Texan cuisine with French refinement. The menu pairs expertly-prepared local game and produce with a sprawling wine list, largely French. Chef Bonnell has won numerous honors throughout his career, but oddly, the press clippings at the restaurant stop in about 2006. Its hard to believe that food this good has gone so long without answer or accolade, but we’ll chalk it up to Fort Worth’s stodgy charm. The quail with chard and grilled peaches was divine, as was the pecan / rum milkshake we indulged in for dessert.

Proving Newton’s 3rd law of motion, we ended a day that began with vegan quesadillas with a trip to Cowtown Coliseum for the weekly rodeo. My first reaction, with some dismay, was that the Coliseum has about half as many seats as Medieval Times in Dallas, and was half as full at half the price. Indeed, it may be half the show. All of the events except the incredible barrel racing involve a sad dominance over the animals (calf roping, bucking broncos, bull riding) rather than an celebration of their strength, loyalty, and skill.

However, the joy and celebration of tradition, modernized with inclusivity in age and gender of participants, near-suffices to offset this cruelty. The highlight of the night was the two children’s events: the joyful “calf chase,” a version of flag football where children 8–12 to pull a piece of tape off of a ~250 lb calf, and its miniature “mutton scramble” reprise, where children up to 7 race to pull the same piece of tape off of a sheep.

The strange anachronism of cattle roping was solidified by the rhinestone jeans, death metal t shirts, and musical selection (Whitesnake, the Vengaboys, etc.) that brought back anxieties about Y2K so many years later. But…to each his own. I liked the 90s, and indeed, I like Fort Worth.

Overall rating: 4/5 stars…worth an overnight visit.