From thirty thousand feet above the desert floor I see it there below 
A city with a legend, the West Texas city of El Paso 
Where long ago I heard a song about a Texas cowboy and a girl 
And a little place called Rosa’s where he used to go and watch this beauty whirl 

I don’t recall who sang the song but I recall a story that I heard 
And as I look down on this city I remember each and every word 
The singer sang about a jealous cowboy and the way he used a gun 
To kill another cowboy, then he had to leave El Paso on the run 

El Paso City 
By the Rio Grande 
The cowboy lived and rode away but love was strong he couldn’t stay 
He rode back just to die in that El Paso sand 
El Paso City 
By the Rio Grande 
I try not to let you cross my mind but still I find
There’s such a mystery in the song that I don’t understand 

My mind is down there somewhere as I fly above the badlands of New Mexico 
I can’t explain why I should know the very trail he rode back to El Paso 
Can it be that man can disappear from life and live another time 
And does the mystery deepen ’cause you think that you yourself lived in that other time 

Somewhere in my deepest thoughts familiar scenes and memories unfold 
These wild and unexplained emotions that I’ve had so long, but I have never told 
Like everytime I fly up through the heavens and I see you there below 
I get the feeling sometime in another world I lived in El Paso 

El Paso City 
By the Rio Grande 
Could it be that I could be the cowboy in the mystery 
That died there in that desert sand so long ago 
El Paso City 
By the Rio Grande 
A voice tells me to go and seek, another voice keeps telling me 
Maybe death awaits me in El Paso 

El Paso City lyrics as sung by Marty Robbins

I am not a particular fan of Marty Robbins. I’m not even sure how I know it, but that song runs through my head all day as we explore the wonderful city of El Paso. I have no real idea what to expect. Songs and movies would have you believe it is overrun with bandits. People in the RV parks warned us away from the border towns. My mother reminded me that we have relatives here who moved two generations ago.

El Paso is a lovely town. It is scrappy, gritty, and proud. We start our visit at the University of Texas El Paso. We are within sight of the border. The parking is a bit confusing and we are really the only tourists in sight. I like it. College campuses are familiar and invigorating. Hundreds of students scramble to get to class. We, on the other hand wander through the desert garden and visit the campus museum.

The exhibits are clearly student created. I love them all the more for their shoe string budget and quirky collections. As a history teacher. This is what history should be. The telling of stories. The juxtaposition of unique perspectives. The collecting of artifacts. And the reasoned sourcing and cross checking that leads to informed opinion. Not perfect, not certain, and ever changing.

After spending time in the UT museum, we head across town to the Magoffin home. It is a preserved nineteen room adobe structure from the late 1800’s. It sits in a neighborhood not far from downtown. The city has grown up around what was once a prosperous borderland estate. Today the neighbors are struggling.

The tour was interesting. Our guide was personable and incredibly gracious to a blind member of our tour group. When possible, he was allowed to touch the items she was talking about. This let him “see” what the rest of us were seeing. It was inclusive in a way I have rarely encountered.

We were surprised to see a diploma hanging in the Magoffin daughter’s bedroom from Washington University. She graduated from the premier university in our “hometown”. They opened in 1853 and began admitting women in 1869. It seems Ms. Magoffin was a trend setter. She was also a gifted artist. Missouri connections can be found in the most unexpected places.

We spent so long at the Magoffin home that many places stopped serving lunch. Siesta is no time to be hungry. After spending an embarrassingly long time trying to to figure out how to use the public parking app (Whatever happened to meters? I had plenty of change.) We rejoice that there is a Subway on the block between parking and our next stop.

I can see a park, a ball park, public art, a street car, and the border. It is vibrant, quirky, and alive. I like this town. It has energy. I wish there was a better way than walling off the Mexican neighbors. I ponder why we find a wall unnecessary at the Canadian border but somehow mandatory here as I eat my veggie sandwich. Somehow the bread seems to stick in my throat as I mull over the intersections of crime, racism, safety, language, nationalism, cultural identity economic interests, and power.

But I am here for fun, so instead I focus on the herd of teenage boys walking in a clump down the sidewalk. Some things transcend culture. I have worked in schools all my life. I recognize the aimless camaraderie. At least it is the weekend, so I know they aren’t skipping school. Truancy is a problem more bite sized.

We walk a short distance to the El Paso Museum complex. With only a few hours until closing time, we opt for the history museum (shocking). It does a wonderful job of celebrating the diversity of El Paso. I loved the cowgirl “charra” exhibit. I even tried an elaborate side saddle. Getting on was a breeze. Getting off was….less than graceful. We wandered through the city’s history, one lovely exhibit at a time.

Perhaps I like El Paso because it reminds me of home. Both El Paso and St. Louis are often dismissed as a lower tier city that has seen better days. But both have a rich cultural history and a diverse population. They having thriving economic sectors. The museums are free. The neighborhoods are quirky and interesting. The people are friendly. Both deal with an element of crime that causes people to fear. Fear prevents people from visiting neighborhoods and causes a level of unhealthy segregation. Nevertheless the people are proud of who they are and their city. But I am not from El Paso and may be making connections that are only in my mind.

We end the day taking a winding road to an overlook high on a hill. From here we can see the city below. On the other side of the ugly border wall we see Ciudad Juarez. I wonder how many people are crossing into Mexico to visit the dentist, doctor, or pharmacy. Apparently medical tourism is alive and well, at least based on the advertisements I have noticed.

It is beautiful here. I find myself wishing for a world that embraced beauty, and diversity, and Somewhere in my deepest thoughts familiar scenes and memories unfold 
These wild and unexplained emotions that I’ve had so long, but I have never told 
Like everytime I fly up through the heavens and I see you there below 
I get the feeling sometime in another world…..