Molly Tumanic

While some students were lounging on sunny beaches or frantically trying to catch up on homework assignments during spring break, I was spending my week in Ingram, Texas, population 1,740.

Why the heck was I in Texas? To visit my dad and get someplace warmer than the frozen tundra, of course.

Now, Wisconsin can be pretty wacky. People call water fountains “bubblers,” there are highway stands that sell fireworks and cheese at the same time and cow tipping is considered a national pastime.

I’m used to weird. I revel in the weird. I love Wisconsin.

But when weird crosses into crazy, red flags start to go up in Susan world.

Texas is crazy.

I flew into Dallas-Ft. Worth and then drove about five hours south to Ingram with my dad. The ride provided a pretty good glimpse into the landscape of central Texas.

You know what’s in central Texas? Fences and big, giant imposing gates blocking off a bunch of empty land. Every once in a while, a big scary “NO TRESPASSING” sign is tacked to a fence post.

When I thought of Texas, I thought of wide-open spaces, not a carved up box. But boy, that’s what it looks like – without a bunch of cattle, goats or emus living in the area. Why do you need to fence yourself in? Are you scared the boogeyman is going to get you?

My dad lives in one of these carved-up spaces – a fenced-in retirement community on the edge of Ingram. It’s a nice place to be old, don’t get me wrong, but these people seemed to be scared of their own shadows.

They were scared to the point that apparently I seemed frightening. I mean, in what universe do I look scary? OK, so some mornings when I fly into school without any make-up I look a little like a stoned Wicked Witch of the West. But my usual Susan self is so not scary. And yet, apparently to some members of this fenced-in community, I looked like I had the potential to tag their doublewide or pee in their petunias.

I tried to go for a walk one night, but gave up after two tiny little old men, who looked like death warmed over, pulled me over in their obnoxiously huge white pick-ups for a mini-interrogation on what I was doing there because I did not fall between the ages of damn old and damn near death.

“Are you visiting someone?”

“Yup.”

“Who?”

“My dad.”

“Well, where does he live?”

“In the blue house right down the street …”

One of them apologized when he realized I was American. Apparently having dark brown hair makes you Hispanic. And apparently if you are Hispanic you’re going to kick in everyone’s doors, steal their CD players and have your way with their women.

What a load of crap.

So, their fences keep out strange folks, and when in doubt, it seems that Texans can call on one of the ZILLION law enforcement agents they have running around.

Now, some areas in Texas probably need lots of cops. Dallas, Austin, Houston, sure, pile on the cops. But Ingram, Texas, population 1,740? How many problems can less than 2,000 people create?!

Apparently a bunch.

In town, on any given day, there are city police, county sheriffs, state patrol officers, officers from the state park system and school district police. Armed school cops, people. In a town of this size?! What’s wrong here?!

What’s wrong is that it seems like something broke in Texas.

People are frightened to the point that their personal bubble is 1 mile in diameter. A yard looks out of place if it doesn’t have three layers of fences topped with barbed wire and a guard tower.

And to make things even more interesting, a bunch of these skittish characters are packing heat. Gee, give a bunch of people who are scared of everything firearms. Smart.

Midway through spring break, I was getting scared.

I wasn’t scared of whatever it was these Texans were afraid of. I was scared of the Texans.

Knock Eau Claire or Wisconsin all you want, but at least kids can still sell Girl Scout cookies door-to-door without worrying about being shot for trespassing.

Sure, Eau Claire has the occasional rape, murder, robbery or other such ugly incident. Yeah, I lock the door to my house when I leave. But I’m not about to go building a fortress around me, “just in case.”

I’m not scared, and I refuse to be bullied into believing I should be. No one in a country that’s supposed to be “free” should be so terrified.

Perhaps it’d be smarter to spend money trying to fix the problems of crime in an area, rather than just reacting with a gun and a gate.

It was great to visit my dad, and spend some time in someplace warm, but for now, I think I’m going to appreciate what I’ve got – a quiet community where people aren’t scared of each other, and Girl Scouts can bring cookies to my front door any damn time they want.