Who Will Vouch for Him?

And From the Archives: Train Song

There is little doubt that it has become axiomatic that anyone who becomes governor of Texas is automatically considered presidential timber. The state is vast and diverse, economically and culturally. In fact, it is a microcosm of America, and has, variously, the 6th or 7th largest economy in the world, which includes energy reserves in the Permian Basin that will likely be available for a few more centuries.

Not a person to ever hold the office of Texas governor has avoided being talked about as a presidential, or at least vice presidential, candidate. We’ve had a couple of Bush’s take the office, and LBJ from out of the Hill Country, plus a vice president in the person of John Nance “Cactus Jack” Garner of Uvalde, who famously said the vice presidency “wasn’t worth a warm bucket of spit.” Other Texans have certainly aspired to the office, Phil Gramm and Ted Cruz, far right conservative Republicans, both of whom possess the charm of a used car salesman named “Slim” trying to sell you a pickup that hasn’t run well in twenty years.

Anyone who thinks the current Texas governor is not contemplating, and even in the early stages of planning, a race for the Republican presidential nomination has not paid attention to his ministrations of the state, endless proselytizing, and his relentless fund raising. Abbott is being coy and suggesting to supporters that he won’t make a decision until after the current legislative session, which concludes at the end of May. But he really just wants to see if he can get Texas lawmakers to out-conservative Ron DeSantis of Florida.

The Texas and Florida governors both seem to be using the same political consultant. The branding theme they are using is “freedom,” which is odd given the fact that both of them are working very hard at taking away freedoms like a woman’s bodily autonomy or a student’s right to learn the full history of their own country. But it’s just messaging, you don’t have to actually defend or deliver freedom. Abbott keeps talking about “parental freedom,” which is his method to leverage support for school vouchers. Giving parents the tax money for their child, which normally goes to a public school, has the potential to destroy public education in Texas.

The idea behind vouchers is that the money the state sends to public schools would instead go into the pockets of parents who want to send their children to a private institution. Because Texas remains around $4000 per student below the national average in terms of spending, the amount a family would receive for their child would be only $6,160 per year. That won’t pay for a private education at any school, and will not do much more than supplement costs. But it will give Greg Abbott a chance to claim he’s given parents the freedom to choose their child’s education. He’s talking about helping families establish “education savings” accounts, which is clear admittance he knows the state money will not be sufficient for any family to get a private education. They’ll need to toss their own cash into the account.

What it will do, however, is harm our already underfunded schools. Texas has been in and out of state and federal courts since 1968’s Rodriguez v Board of Education, which was a foundational lawsuit that argued the legislature has failed to provide a constitutionally mandated “equal education” for all it students. Things will get demonstrably worse when money is siphoned off to help upper middle class parents pay private tuition while the students with parents earning a lower income are left in a building with fewer classmates, teachers, and resources, because the money has gone across town. While the governor brags about business achievements under his administration, he tends to ignore the fact that his state is 42nd in per student spending and that $6,160 has no inflationary adjustment and hasn’t gone up since 2019.

Instead of yapping about “freedom for parents,” Abbot ought to consider investing in public school instead of sending your tax dollars off to private facilities. We have the money. The state comptroller reported $27 billion in additional revenue for the budget and there is already $13.6 billion in the Rainy Day Fund. Why isn’t the governor, along with legislative leadership, drawing up measures to increase teacher pay and provide more money to public schools for learning resources instead of pandering to upscale conservatives with education savings accounts? This reeks of Karl Rove’s once dubious endeavor to convince the GOP under the Bush administration to change Social Security payments to private accounts that could be invested for greater growth. Don’t you want Wall Street fiddling with your guaranteed retirement?

Abbott is sticking his neck out on this issue. Vouchers are only popular among religious conservatives and a segment of the financially comfortable that will vote for anything Republican. The idea has never been popular in rural Texas because anything that threatens a small town school’s viability will be fearlessly resisted. Rural communities tend to take great pride in local schools and their performance, academically and athletically, and there are generally not too many private schools within such districts. Also, lawsuits are predictable over church and state separation if any tax dollars end up in religious schools.

I don’t think the support is present for vouchers to get passed, even though Abbott is heading out into the rural part of the state to promote it. Any such bill is likely to fail on a straight up and down vote in the Texas House, though probably has a good chance in the Senate. Abbott will anticipate the outcome after he does his campaigning and if it fails, he might reconsider trying to make the big show. But he’s already leaving little tracks on his thinking and understanding of his consistent comparison to DeSantis. Abbott, for instance, said he wanted to sign a Senate bill that banned certain foreign entities from buying land in Texas, which came five days after DeSantis had indicated he wanted to prevent China from buying Florida real estate. A week after DeSantis said he intended to block diversity programs at Florida’s public universities, Abbott had his chief of staff send a letter to public colleges and state agencies to tell them it was illegal to hire based on diversity issues. Not very original, but ticking the box for conservative nut jobs.

There’s not much distance between these two radical politicians, and there is a good chance they will both enter into a primary season against Donald Trump. I consider DeSantis’ campaign a certainty, and Abbott’s most likely. I’ll be writing more about the two of them on the national stage in coming updates.

But for now, enjoy the story below from the archives, which is about a morning I watched a struggling musician and blind teenager waiting for a train.

Train Song

“There were other lonely singers in a world turned deaf and blind who were crucified for what they tried to show. And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time but the truth remains and someone wants to know.” – Kristofferson

In the morning dark, he stood in a cold corner at the entrance to the train station up in Michigan. A young blind man was sitting on a vinyl chair across from him and they had in common their guitar cases.

“Looks like a narrow case ya got there, Dave,” he said. “Must be electric, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is.”

Dave pulled his white cane closer and tilted his head toward the voice. A cab driver had dropped him at the station, referred to him by name at the end of his daily routine, and said Dave’s ride to work would be along momentarily.

“How long you been playin’?”

“About ten years.” Dave had turned to face the speaker.

“Yeah, I’ve been at it about 40, myself,” he said. “I play acoustic. All I seem to do. Hours and hours on end.”

When I looked at the guitar man, I was reminded of the fictional conversation between the young Kris Kristofferson and the grayed and wrinkled musician in a Nashville bar. He sized up Kristofferson and his guitar and said, “It’s a rough life, ain’t it?”

The answer was, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You ain’t makin’ any money are ya?”

“You been readin’ my mail.”

But this bard was no longer a boy and his chances of becoming Kristofferson had long ago expired. His hair was strung in tangles from a bald spot on the top rear of his head and a pair of outsized glasses teetered crookedly on his nose. The profile lacked a chin and his overbite almost hid the lower row of teeth. A small shoulder pack was on the floor between his feet and it was covered with the kind of dirt and grease smears that come from years of sleeping under bridges and an open sky. A frayed blue pullover sweatshirt was all that kept him from the cold and I noticed his canvas shoes were an unidentifiable color after the miles and the music.

Amtrak’s Southwest Chief

“What do you play?” Dave asked.

“Only my stuff. All original.”

“Oh wow. Hours and hours?”

“Yep.”

When the agent opened the door to the station, the guitar man seemed relieved to be indoors and sat quickly on a chair. He pulled out a thick book from his backpack and it had the kind of clear plastic cover that protects library loaners from wear. I watched him read and thought that he was consuming words like food but it was only a novel by an unknown author. He turned away from the pages after a while and kept looking around at people until finally he stood and went to the ticket window. I was a few feet distant

“Yes, I called on the 800 number last night and made a reservation?”

“What was the name?”

I did not hear the rest of the conversation but the ticket agent stood motionless and patient as he reached into his pocket and delicately removed several twenty-dollar bills. He held them in front of him for what felt like a long time but I did not know if it was because they were so rare and precious to him or he wanted others in that room to see that he was in possession of money. I watched him slowly count them off and then slide cash in a neat pile under the window in exchange for a ticket.

Baggage and Dreams Onboard

“I’m going to New Mexico,” he said. I realized that he had been aware I was watching him make his ticket purchase.

“What’s out there?” I asked.

“Something different than here and it’s warmer.”

His tee shirt was thin and had the name of a painting company in black letters across his chest.  “Meyer Painting, LLC.” I thought that maybe he had done some work for them to buy his ticket.

“Are you going to sing and play out there?”

“Mister, I’m going to sing and play wherever I am.”

“Yeah, I reckon so.”

He took up his book when he sat down and read for 30 minutes or so and then dug in his pack and pulled out a pencil stub and a white card. I thought he might be making notes for lyrics but he quickly finished a scribble and walked back to the ticket window and slid the paper beneath the glass.

“Mam,” he said. “You were very helpful to me and I just thought I’d give you this web site address. In case you’re interested, all my music is there.”

She smiled, pleased that he had thought of her and maybe because she felt for a moment like she was doing something more than just the prescribed duties of her job. When he got back to his seat he put down his pack and his book and picked up the guitar case and held it against his chest with his hands locked by intertwined fingers.

I thought the guitar was the only thing he had ever owned or maybe it was the only thing that had never slipped away.