Tessie D

Here’s a fun fact about me: My last name is Despare. 

(I probably should not be telling the whole world my name, but I don’t think anyone is going to read this anyways.)

Anyways, I learned over the weekend that my family goes back all the way to the Alamo. 

I was with Daddy getting breakfast at the Buckboard on Saturday morning when Mr. Cooke told us. Mr. Cooke is one of more popular Baptist preachers in town—everyone treats him like he’s some sort of celebrity. 

We had just finished and were standing up to walk out when Daddy called across the restaurant to Mr. Cooke, “Good mornin’, James! Is it dry enough for ya? We hadn’t had any of them Spring rains yet we’re supposed to be gettin.’ The hay is never gonna grow at this goddamn rate.” 

I could see Mr. Cooke was sitting at a long table with several other men. He startled at the sound of his name booming across the restaurant and looked up quickly. He saw Daddy and nodded, giving Daddy the same patronizing smile everyone in town gives him.

“Well, Mr. D’Espallier, I don’t know about that. I think we’ll just have to keep praying and trust in the Lord to get us through it.” 

Daddy smiled, clearly enjoying the attention, “Mr. D’Espallier, what the hell is that all ‘bout?” 

I saw Mr. Cooke’s face shift just a bit, and I felt my stomach tighten. Mr. Cooke looked around at the other men at the table like they were all in on the joke that Daddy didn’t get. “D’Espallier is the correct pronunciation of your name. Have you never read about Charles D’Espallier in school when studying the Alamo? Your family is descended from one of the original defenders of the Republic of Texas. You have revolutionary blood in you, sir.” Mr. Cooke was clearly enjoying giving this impromptu history lesson. 

“The Alamo. One of my relatives was a revolutionary in the Alamo? Well, I’ll be damned.” Daddy laughed and pulled out the packet of cigarettes that he always keeps in his front right breast pocket, “Y’all can go to hell, and I’ll stay right here in Texas!” 

“That was Davy Crockett. Your ancestor was from Louisiana and was recognized for his bravery by William B. Travis.”

“Well, you don’t say. We’re practically Texas royalty, then! I could be this town’s mayor. Hell, I could be the governor!” 

“Maybe in a different life. Charles D’Espallier died in service to the cause and his nephew was granted land for Charles’ service. I guess that land was sold, and the money has long been spent.”  

“Bullshit. We’re Charles D’Espallier’s kin. That has to count for something.” Daddy slapped his hand down on Mr. Cooke’s shoulder and I saw Mr. Cooke cringe, looking over his shoulder at Daddy’s chubby fingers on the newly starched shirt. 

Daddy bellowed to the waitress standing at the cash register, “Janie, you hear that? I’m Texas royalty! Remember the Alamo!”

Of course, none of this name business matters a hill of beans, but it makes Daddy happy to think that we’re somehow special and he spent the rest of the day with his pinky up in the air, asking everyone to refer to him as Mr. D’Espallier.