It's Simple: Southern Life Is Absolutely Fabulous
Lauren Keaton
The role Christian Bale assumed in the now-in-theaters western "3:10 To Yuma'' required quite a bit from the Welsh-born actor.
And not necessarily because the role was particularly challenging... but more because the transition was enormous.
According to Internet Movie Database, Bale grew up primarily in England, Portugal and California - moving often.
He did not however, spend much time in the Southwestern U.S.
To prepare for the role of cowboy Dan Evans, he spent one month in the scorching desert of New Mexico, according to Associated Press reports.
He camped outside in the heat instead of an air-conditioned trailer and literally got his hands dirty to prepare for the film.
To understand the southern way of life, I think really living it is a requirement.
In 2003, celebutant and heiress Paris Hilton donned overalls and boots (for the first time, I assume) to trek across the country with pop-tart-in-crime Nicole Richie in the name of their reality series, "The Simple Life."
The show was recently dropped from E!'s line-up, but in past seasons it was, of course, hilarious but also interesting to see how these pampered 20-somethings from Beverly Hills were thrown from the red carpet into the red barn.
I know there are many East Texans who are from other parts of the country and the world, but most I have spoken with were born and raised here.
That, in and of itself, fascinates me.
Much like Bale, I grew up with a suitcase in my hand.
Because of my father's career as an international banker, I lived in countries overseas like Venezuela and Saudi Arabia.
I spent my high school career in Westport, Conn., a posh little community on Long Island Sound, minutes from Manhattan.
I have experienced many different cultures, but I must admit nothing is quite like the south.
I, of course, do not have fame like these celebrities, but I know firsthand that if you are not used to the country way of life, it is quite a culture shock.
My grandparents are from Tyler and I vacationed here every summer, but I never fully understood what it was like to be a Texan until one summer - I was 16 and went to visit Alison, a camp friend in Abilene.
The rolling tumbleweeds and flat landscape looked so different to what I associated with Texas.
Tyler seemed like another world from the western part of the state.
When I first arrived, we got in her car and drove to the Sonic drive-in.
I had never been to a Sonic.
A sand volleyball court at a fast food restaurant? I thought that was a little strange.
All of her friends were dressed in jeans, big buckled belts and cowboy hats.
I had on a khaki skirt, white pressed Polo and Birkenstock sandals.
There was no doubt at this point I was a "Yankee."
Admittedly, I had seen some adults dressed like these kids at barbecues and my grandfather often wore a Stetson, but I always thought it was more for special occasions.
I was mistaken.
Thick accents and unfamiliar mannerisms... did I just stumble onto "The Simple Life" set?
Up to this point, I had always felt comfortable in strange environments.
In past experiences, natives realized I was different and didn't expect me to understand them right away. Not here.
These kids were American too, but still seemed exotic.
An hour or so later, Alison told me they had a surprised planned for me.
We were going "tail-gating."
Not really sure what that was, I climbed in her friend's jacked-up, red truck and we drove to a deer lease in Buffalo Gap.
When she first said the town's name, I giggled.
I thought she was kidding... she wasn't.
I distinctly remember seeing the city limit sign, listing the population: 400 or so.
I recall swallowing hard, wondering "Does that still make it a city?"
Next thing I know, we are in the middle of a clearing, parked beside a barn-looking shack, tailgates down, listening to Travis Tritt on one of the truck radios.
When I asked who Travis Tritt was, I quickly found out that was not a normal question here.
Equally wrong was my next question: "OK, so what are we going to do?"
Apparently, from Alison's disapproving stare, we were doing it.
After a while, one of the Stetson-wearing guys realized I was feeling a little awkward and decided to show me something.
Another surprise, I guessed - hopefully better than the first.
So we started walking down this really steep hill, or more accurately sliding.
Alison had told me to change into sneakers and jeans before we went to the deer lease.
Unfortunately, I didn't bring any. And here was my reasoning at the time: I knew it was hot in Texas and I didn't really like to wear jeans, or sneakers for that matter... plus, I wasn't informed about how good looking her male friends were when I was packing. (Please remember, I was 16 here, I assure you I have matured... some.)
So, there I am... basically, a Ralph Lauren poster-child trying not to break my neck as I struggle to the bottom of this hill.
"This had better be good," I thought.
We finally arrived at our cliff-side destination and looked up.
"We can carve our names in the red clay and they will be there forever," he said, smiling at me.
It was this statement that changed everything.
I think it was the simplicity of this "surprise" paired with his obvious excitement that defused my annoyance.
Then, I realized that this - something so easy - was "it" for these kids.
Dusting off my Polo and shaking the gravel out of my sandals, I looked at that country boy, finally understanding the southern charm my parents always told me about.
After we carved our names, we had to climb back up the hill.
He held my hand and helped me up the hill the whole way. I don't think I ever had a boy even open a door for me at that point, besides my father. Remember, chivalry is dead in the northeast.
Needless to say, I will never forget that weekend.
When I returned to Texas for college, my appreciation for the south grew.
I love living in Texas now.
The charm I fell in love at 16 still maintains its magic every day I walk outside my door.
And not necessarily because the role was particularly challenging... but more because the transition was enormous.
According to Internet Movie Database, Bale grew up primarily in England, Portugal and California - moving often.
He did not however, spend much time in the Southwestern U.S.
To prepare for the role of cowboy Dan Evans, he spent one month in the scorching desert of New Mexico, according to Associated Press reports.
He camped outside in the heat instead of an air-conditioned trailer and literally got his hands dirty to prepare for the film.
To understand the southern way of life, I think really living it is a requirement.
In 2003, celebutant and heiress Paris Hilton donned overalls and boots (for the first time, I assume) to trek across the country with pop-tart-in-crime Nicole Richie in the name of their reality series, "The Simple Life."
The show was recently dropped from E!'s line-up, but in past seasons it was, of course, hilarious but also interesting to see how these pampered 20-somethings from Beverly Hills were thrown from the red carpet into the red barn.
I know there are many East Texans who are from other parts of the country and the world, but most I have spoken with were born and raised here.
That, in and of itself, fascinates me.
Much like Bale, I grew up with a suitcase in my hand.
Because of my father's career as an international banker, I lived in countries overseas like Venezuela and Saudi Arabia.
I spent my high school career in Westport, Conn., a posh little community on Long Island Sound, minutes from Manhattan.
I have experienced many different cultures, but I must admit nothing is quite like the south.
I, of course, do not have fame like these celebrities, but I know firsthand that if you are not used to the country way of life, it is quite a culture shock.
My grandparents are from Tyler and I vacationed here every summer, but I never fully understood what it was like to be a Texan until one summer - I was 16 and went to visit Alison, a camp friend in Abilene.
The rolling tumbleweeds and flat landscape looked so different to what I associated with Texas.
Tyler seemed like another world from the western part of the state.
When I first arrived, we got in her car and drove to the Sonic drive-in.
I had never been to a Sonic.
A sand volleyball court at a fast food restaurant? I thought that was a little strange.
All of her friends were dressed in jeans, big buckled belts and cowboy hats.
I had on a khaki skirt, white pressed Polo and Birkenstock sandals.
There was no doubt at this point I was a "Yankee."
Admittedly, I had seen some adults dressed like these kids at barbecues and my grandfather often wore a Stetson, but I always thought it was more for special occasions.
I was mistaken.
Thick accents and unfamiliar mannerisms... did I just stumble onto "The Simple Life" set?
Up to this point, I had always felt comfortable in strange environments.
In past experiences, natives realized I was different and didn't expect me to understand them right away. Not here.
These kids were American too, but still seemed exotic.
An hour or so later, Alison told me they had a surprised planned for me.
We were going "tail-gating."
Not really sure what that was, I climbed in her friend's jacked-up, red truck and we drove to a deer lease in Buffalo Gap.
When she first said the town's name, I giggled.
I thought she was kidding... she wasn't.
I distinctly remember seeing the city limit sign, listing the population: 400 or so.
I recall swallowing hard, wondering "Does that still make it a city?"
Next thing I know, we are in the middle of a clearing, parked beside a barn-looking shack, tailgates down, listening to Travis Tritt on one of the truck radios.
When I asked who Travis Tritt was, I quickly found out that was not a normal question here.
Equally wrong was my next question: "OK, so what are we going to do?"
Apparently, from Alison's disapproving stare, we were doing it.
After a while, one of the Stetson-wearing guys realized I was feeling a little awkward and decided to show me something.
Another surprise, I guessed - hopefully better than the first.
So we started walking down this really steep hill, or more accurately sliding.
Alison had told me to change into sneakers and jeans before we went to the deer lease.
Unfortunately, I didn't bring any. And here was my reasoning at the time: I knew it was hot in Texas and I didn't really like to wear jeans, or sneakers for that matter... plus, I wasn't informed about how good looking her male friends were when I was packing. (Please remember, I was 16 here, I assure you I have matured... some.)
So, there I am... basically, a Ralph Lauren poster-child trying not to break my neck as I struggle to the bottom of this hill.
"This had better be good," I thought.
We finally arrived at our cliff-side destination and looked up.
"We can carve our names in the red clay and they will be there forever," he said, smiling at me.
It was this statement that changed everything.
I think it was the simplicity of this "surprise" paired with his obvious excitement that defused my annoyance.
Then, I realized that this - something so easy - was "it" for these kids.
Dusting off my Polo and shaking the gravel out of my sandals, I looked at that country boy, finally understanding the southern charm my parents always told me about.
After we carved our names, we had to climb back up the hill.
He held my hand and helped me up the hill the whole way. I don't think I ever had a boy even open a door for me at that point, besides my father. Remember, chivalry is dead in the northeast.
Needless to say, I will never forget that weekend.
When I returned to Texas for college, my appreciation for the south grew.
I love living in Texas now.
The charm I fell in love at 16 still maintains its magic every day I walk outside my door.
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