Dallas Keeps Calling Me Back, Even After All These Years

(Remember how, in the days of standard episodic television before streaming and binging, many dramas and some comedies would give a thumbnail update starting with “Previously on…”, flashing scenes so fast that people starting midway through a season or story were more confused than before? Well, that’s what this newsletter is like. Look at these as regular updates of how the sausage is made, with what, and whether or not the staff washed their hands after they used the toilet. Or, worse, if they only washed their hands before using the toilet.)

45 years.

It’s been 45 years.

I have now been in Texas for 45 years.

December is full of anniversaries and events in my past life, both good and ill, but everything radiates out from the end of 1979. Since then, all but four December 1sts (1985: Appleton, Wisconsin; 1996 and 1997: living in and moving from Portland, Oregon; 2002: Tallahassee, Florida) have been in the general Dallas area, and the odds are pretty good that the rest of my December 1sts will be here as well.

A regular ongoing question is “why Dallas?” That’s a fair question. Let’s go back to that first December 1. A few days earlier, my family and I left the South Side of Chicago: local temperatures flirted near freezing all November, but that last post-Thanksgiving week finally went subfreezing, and our last hours in the old house involved waiting inside for the movers to finish loading their truck with the front door wide open. That night, stopped for the duration in a motel near Peoria, a slow flaky snow started to come down: one of those snows that didn’t congeal, didn’t bunch, and didn’t do more than fill hollows in the already-frozen ground. My last memories as a resident of Illinois was watching a coyote trotting alongside the highway, past endless fields full of dirt and crop stubble, with my thinking “He’s getting out, too. Good for him.”

It’s hard for folks today, especially those living in Dallas today, to understand how strangely magical Dallas was at that point. Oh, sure, the city was going through its biggest expansion in history, with construction cranes seemingly everywhere. Reunion Tower in downtown was brand new at the time, with it giving Dallas a skyline like no other, but before the city core became filled with neon skyscraper outlines at night. 1979 Dallas was NEW, all over, with neobrutalist civic buildings and sprawling shopping malls and a vibe so futuristic that the PBS adaptation of Ursula LeGuin’s novel The Lathe of Heaven used locations in Dallas, Fort Worth, and DFW Airport to simulate future Portland. (Just three years earlier, the Dallas Apparel Mart and the Fort Worth Water Gardens had filled in for the future in the adaptation of Logan’s Run.) All of the promises we kids had received all through the 1970s about what the future was going to be were reflected in Dallas…if you went by the skyline.

The real appeal, though, was the weather. I spent all of my life at that point within a reasonable drive from the 45th Parallel, where high temperatures were just above freezing right after Halloween and rushed straight toward minus-40 by January, with up to a meter of snow on Thanksgiving and a guarantee of not seeing unfrozen ground until April. Pulling into Dallas, not only did we not have to bundle in multiple layers of coats and boots before getting out of the car, but we could roll down the window at the end of November. It became more pronounced over the next few days, with high temperatures in December close to what would be a typical high in Michigan or upstate New York in June. Grass was still green! Leaves were still on trees! Compared to what we left behind in Chicago, Dallas was tropical, and stayed that way through most of December that year.

Even nearly a half-century later, December skies in Dallas are magical. Most days here are sunny, with the angle of the sun in the sky adding a strange soft intensity to the day. The horrible glare that makes everyone living here in summer envy Gila monsters and prairie dogs is gone, but the number of overcast days in a typical Dallas December can be counted on one hand. After a typical summer, most of us try to anticipate the coming coolth by breaking out jackets and sweaters as early as the beginning of October, but it’s only this time of the year that wearing either isn’t a soggy, sweaty ordeal that courts heat exhaustion.

My parents in Wisconsin regularly used to ask when I was going to move “back.” Instead of arguing logic of how there was no “back,” having spent a whole nine months of brutal cold in the Fox River Valley before selling nearly everything I had and moving back to Dallas, I gave them an ultimatum that was the only one they or most northeast Wisconsin residents could understand: “I’ll move back the moment the Dallas Cowboys win a shutout World Series pennant.” My first December back in town was rough for a lot of reasons, coming right after the big West Texas Intermediate oil boom had gone bust in 1986 and turning so much of the Dallas miracle back into pumpkins and mice, but looking out over downtown Dallas a week before Christmas wearing a light jacket still made it all worthwhile. Decades later, and the magic is still there.

A lot has happened in those 45 years. A lot of situations, a lot of joys, and a lot of pain. A lot of reappraisals of what life in Dallas means, and whether it’s worth staying if the opportunity to move presents itself. A lot of friends who are now nothing but memories, and a lot of new friends to make the days ahead exciting. A lot of changes of perspective, and more than a few boots to the head. Realistically, the odds of my seeing 90 years here are vanishing small, but the attempt is going to be entertaining.

Cooking References

Considering that 2024 has been such a trainwreck that its impending implosion will produce gravity waves felt on the other side of the universe, this year’s American Thanksgiving was more a matter of flipping off traditions and switching tracks in the hope of a little less pain going into 2025. That’s why when good friend and game designer Loki Williams recommended a cookbook on New Orleans cuisine that he could endorse, I paid attention. Most bookstore cooking sections are full of creole and Cajun cookbooks, but Modern Creole: A Taste of New Orleans Culture and Cuisine by Eric Cook (Gibbs Smith, 2024) was a perfect inspiration for fighting off the autumn doldrums with soups and stews. Thanksgiving this year focused on gumbo, and I may have to try Chef Cook’s Yassa Shrimp for Christmas dinner.

Other Reading

Current reading that may or may not be tied to previous and upcoming St. Remedius installments, but may be of interest anyway:

Nonfiction: Hitler’s Monsters: A Supernatural History of the Third Reich by Eric Kurlander (Yale University Press, 2017)

Nonfiction: Martin Bower’s World of Models by Shaun McClure and Martin Bower (2019)

Nonfiction: How To Think Like David Bowie by Jonathan Tindale (2021)

Fiction: All Systems Red: The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells (Tor, 2017)

And for musical accompaniment, Texas Triffid Ranch enthusiasts may remember the unique T-shirt designs of longtime friend and former boss Larry Carey, and he’s now returned to music with the Ice Station Zero podcast. In many ways, these tracks are the perfect St. Remedius soundtrack, especially when involving pikas.

Events

Last Personal Interlude, your humble narrator referred to a friendly bet involving his best friend made back in 1997 involving whether the Harlan Ellison-edited collection The Last Dangerous Visions would see print before the the next issue of the magazine Science Fiction Eye, and how we had made tentative plans for a dinner for both the 45th anniversary of our meeting and to celebrate my winning the bet that were sidelined when Paul died last July. For those either in the Dallas area or wanting to make the trip, the party will be held at a place with lots of memories with the both of us: the Mama’s Pizza in Plano on Friday, December 6, starting at 5:30. Just come in, order a pizza or join the buffet line, and either share your memories of Paul or come out to hear others’. Just look for the copy of Last Dangerous Visions at the back of the booth. This is also a celebration of the life of Mark Ridlen, the Dallas music expert and my birthday brother, so if you were supremely lucky to have known both, we really want you out.

As for St. Remedius-specific events for patrons and casual readers, I know that so many either have family obligations or decided aversions to local cosplay of Dallas’s best Christmas movie, so the current plan is to try something….different for January and the rest of 2025. Keep a watch in your email box for details.

Final Words

Finally, Substack and most other newsletter sites all have the same problem these days: considering the number of unemployed and underemployed writers all trying to make a living from their words, far too many newsletters start to sound like a public television pledge drive every installment. (Dallas residents who grew up on six pledge drives a year from our PBS affiliate, with 45 minutes of pledge drive for every 30 minutes of programming we actually wanted to see, can particularly appreciate the pain.) The Annals of St. Remedius Medical College will remain free for as long as possible, but subscriptions, either for yourself or as a gift for someone else, are greatly appreciated, but the big request is to spread word. Send random links to coworkers. Text installments to family. Bug the hell out of the crew at Locus about reviews and interviews. Half of the fun in these little bits of strangeness is in the sharing, and the sharing is so much sweeter when it comes from those who think “You know, I know someone who really needs more problems with sleeping at night.” Everyone involved with the newsletters, particularly Parker, thanks you in advance.

Want to get caught up on the St. Remedius story so far? Check out the main archive. Want more hints as to the history of St. Remedius Medical College? Check out Backstories and Fragments. Want to forget all of that and look at cat pictures from a beast who dreams of his own OnlyFans for his birthday? Check out Mandatory Parker. Questions, concerns, and disgust over generative AI? Check out Contact, Privacy Policy, and AI Policy. And feel free to visit the St. Remedius Medical College Redbubble shop for all of your Mandatory Parker needs.

45 years Paul Mears Personal interlude