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The Eyes of Texas Are Upon Me

It’s no secret that I am Texas-born, and more than that, a Texas patriot. For reasons I have touched on elsewhere, my home state seems to me to be the one most permeated with the essence and energy of the Odinic awakening that began some fifty years ago, and which will continue to affect the world in the years to come.

I am not so small minded as to expect my non-Texan friends to agree with my assessment, and perhaps your are similarly attached to that place where you were born and spent your early years. But bear with me; my comments will be relevant to Texan and non-Texan alike and the most fervent Yankee will be able to agree with its essence.

The title of this essay comes from the University of Texas anthem, “The Eyes of Texas are Upon You.” I never attended that institution, and my attachment to the song is not based on school affiliation, but on my love of Texas and my conviction that this song has something to say to each and every one of us.

You will not be surprised to learn that this song has been declared by our Lords of the Left to be…racist.

Somewhere, sometime, some person or persons who could accurately be called a racist actually sang it. At least as important to our Commissars of Correctness is the simple fact that the song is traditional, and that its very title implies living up to a standard of some sort. Here are the words:

The Eyes of Texas are upon you,
All the livelong day.
The Eyes of Texas are upon you,
You cannot get away.
Do not think you can escape them
At night or early in the morn —
The Eyes of Texas are upon you
Til Heimdal blows his horn.

…Okay, I changed the last line; it actually reads “Til Gabriel blows his horn”…Because I’m stubborn and eccentric and I prefer Heimdal to Gabriel.

The eyes of Texas are upon me. Seriously. Not the eyes of any particular Texan; but the very soul and spirit of Texas itself. It’s something to live up to – a responsibility to be brave, and honorable, and committed. Not that every Texan past or present has lived up to that, but that’s not the point. The Alamo…San Jacinto…Texans who wore Confederate gray…Texas Rangers…and brave and honorable Texans down through the years. I want to be live up to that standard. ..No wonder the leftists hate it!

And it’s not just the distant past. My fellow Texans continue to bring tears of pride to my eyes.

As the recent Year of the Riots got underway, liberals and leftists in Texas marched for the removal of Confederate monuments. In two of the towns not far from where I was born, an outpouring of White folks – some of them bearing firearms, all of them armed with determination – kept that from happening.

Perhaps the most symbolic of all was when leftists decided to march on the Alamo. Some were peaceful demonstrators, others were more radical, armed with the usual arsenal of pyrotechnics and attitude. They were met with a line of Texans, automatic rifles in hand. No acts of violence ensured, but the point was made: “Not on our watch.”

I think more than a few of us Texans alive today would consider it an honor to die defending the Alamo – this sacred soil, hallowed by the blood of heroes – from desecration.

Because…the Eyes of Texas are upon us.

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