One of the greatest culture shocks of my life (that is, after the shock that came from moving to Cincinnati after an unbroken year in Europe) came when I moved to Texas and it was not because of the politics or the history or anything, but the fact that there is so much pride in the state—pride that I came to share and miss having. Growing up in New Jersey was often an exercise in rationalizations for the license plate tag, "Garden State," explaining away the factories of Elizabeth, asserting that New Jersey is lush and beautiful—which it really is. I swear! And, of course, we have Bruce. But, we will never see the shape of the state of New Jersey engraved in the concrete of highway overpasses like they have in Texas. Indeed, installing the engraved Texas state shape and the lone star seemed to be a priority over just about everything else in the construction project, so proud the state and the workers and the citizenry were of their state of residence. And no matter how much I miss Austin, TX, and its parks and paths and waters, we who hail from the Garden State do feel a bit of pain when, as the post card reads, you make fun of us.