24 Years As A Texas Nationalist

Today marks the 24th anniversary of my personal “line in the sand” moment. Let me tell you about that day.

Reflecting on almost a quarter-century of fighting for Texas independence, it all started with the smallest of actions. I’ll spare you the details of the years leading up to the decision. If you are so inclined, you can hear that story on the video at the bottom of this post. Instead, let me tell you about that particular day.

In 1996, the idea of Texas being an independent nation was brand new to me. In fact, it was new to the near 800 people crammed into the meeting room at the Sheraton in Tyler. I’m sure that everyone was carrying a million questions in their heads. I know I was.

Those questions were entirely subsumed by one thing – hope. Everyone there shared the hope that Texas independence could provide an opportunity to create the future. For everyone, there was a feeling that until that moment, we had no direct hand in our personal destinies. Texas independence would put us in the driver’s seat for the first time in our lives. We weren’t there for some mediocre political meeting. We were there to build a nation.

While hope filled the room, something else was missing entirely – doubt. There was no doubt in the minds of those in attendance that independence was the solution to every political and economic frustration that we were collectively and individually feeling. Sure, we still had all of the questions that we had before walking into the room. But in the face of history and the unprecedented opportunity laid before us, to make a “big deal” about those questions seemed to be “tripping over dollars to pick up nickels.”

At one point, a few hours into the meeting, I asked someone where I could join. They pointed to a table outside the meeting room with a long line and muttered, “There.” I sprang out of my seat and hurried to get in line.

I should take a moment to tell you about the line. There were about 50 people in the line, and no two of them were alike. At 22, I wasn’t the youngest. I was also a good 50 years younger than the oldest person in the line who was wearing a cap that said “WWII Veteran.” There were representatives of every ethnicity common to Texas. Men and women. A few in business suits. More than a few in work shirts and overalls. I can distinctly remember a man wearing a Rolex carrying on a lighthearted conversation with a man in a welders cap.

On the surface, no one in that line had a single thing in common. But on that day, they shared a common bond. They were all Texans who believed in independence and were there to play their part in making it a reality.

When I finally made it to the table, a lady with a solemn demeanor slid a piece of paper in front of me and pointed at a pen. I snatched up the pen and began to fill out my information. I don’t remember everything the form asked for. Honestly, it didn’t matter. I would have gladly offered it up for the chance to be a part of making Texas independence happen. Then I reached the bottom of the form, right above the signature line.

“I solemnly swear to protect and defend the Republic of Texas and bear true faith and allegiance to the same.”

I don’t know why, but I hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t apprehension nor was it fear. As I reflect on that moment, as I have often done often over the past 24 years, I think it was to make sense of what signing my name to that statement would actually mean. I suspect it was very much like the men at the Alamo as they pondered what crossing Travis’s line would truly mean.

Before you think that they are not equivalent, you have to remember that in 1996 the federal government was actively suppressing dissent. People who were doing what I was doing were being considered as domestic terrorists. People were being fired from their jobs, harassed by law enforcement, and worse for doing what I was about to do. It was not unreasonable in 1996 that I could be killed if the federal government reacted poorly to our desire to see an independence Texas.

Nevertheless, I signed my name.

At that time, I didn’t know what the future would bring. There was no way for me to see the highs and lows that would ultimately come on the journey to independence. There was no way for me to know that in a few short months, the organization that introduced me to the idea of independence would effectively be defunct. There was no way for me to see that I would one day work my way through the ranks and end up leading the fight. Making lifelong friends and losing them before they could see independence was not what I envisioned when I signed my name. I also had no idea what the personal cost of upholding that oath would be. But at no time did I ever consider giving up before the job was done.

Many things have changed in 24 years. People can now join the organization on our website. There is no line to wait in. There is no oath one needs to take other than agreeing to support our mission. We’ve grown support for independence to a near-majority from the single-digit support that existed in 1996. We’ve been able to organize independence supporters into an effective political movement that has grown to one of the largest independence movements in the world. We wield some influence in the Capitol and are welcomed by many in the halls of government. Even some in the mainstream media reluctantly marvel at how we are a “textbook political and social movement.”

Nearly my entire adult life has been shaped by that day. I can trace my no-compromise, no-surrender attitude toward Texas independence, specifically to that day. What we didn’t know, we learned. What didn’t exist, we created. When there was a gap to be filled, we stepped up to fill it. When there was a need, we met it. Where there was an obstacle, we overcame it. We were ready to give everything and expected nothing other than an opportunity to do our part to make Texas free and independent. We were willing to go wherever, whenever to do whatever it took to get the job done. We were ready and willing to pay any price to win Texas independence.

I didn’t just sign my name on a piece of paper to be forgotten when things got tough. I took an oath.

Every year, on this day, I remember what I did in 1996 and why I did it. I remember those who took the same oath I did but didn’t live to see the fruits of their labor. I reflect on those who took that same oath but broke it and slinked “over the wall” like a modern-day Moses Rose. I think about how far we’ve come, how we got here, and what it cost to get here. I think about how much farther we have to go and what needs to be done to get there.

More importantly, though, I don’t drown in nostalgia. August 24, 1996, is an important date to me, but it’s just a day on the calendar unless I do everything I personally can every single day to give it meaning. That line at the bottom of a piece of paper turned out to be my personal line in the sand. It is a line that has shaped my life in ways I may never fully understand. It is a line whose impact continues to excite me and elicits the same passion today as it did on that day.

My sincerest wish to you on this day is that, as you reflect on your own “line in the sand” moment, it will continue to inspire, challenge, and motivate you to ever-higher levels of commitment to the cause of Texas independence. I pray that you will be reminded that we are not just some political club, but that we are engaged in a historic endeavor to free Texas and elevate our home and people to its rightful place as a self-governing, independent nation among nations.