Deep in the Jewish Heart of Texas

It took me less than thirty minutes on Texas soil to have my first and only encounter with the law.

Armed with detailed driving directions from George Bush Intercontinental Airport to the home of my hosts David and Darlene Schwartz I assumed I could dispense with a GPS for my rented car even though it was late at night and I was totally unfamiliar with the roads. Upon realizing that I got off Highway 610 a few exits early I made a U-turn — which I could tell in retrospect must have been illegal once I saw flashing red and blue lights in my rearview mirror. Can you think of any worse welcome to Houston than being pulled over by a Texas state trooper? You’re in a heap of trouble boy. 

Wobbly-legged from twenty-four hours of travel from Israel I staggered out of the car reminding myself to speak English and not Hebrew to the men in blue. After explaining my predicament one of the officers nudged his buddy and said “I told you he was either drunk or from out of town.” Not only did the troopers let me off the hook without a ticket but one of them shined his flashlight on my map and not in my face and gave me detailed directions to get back on track. 

Back on Highway 610 I reflected on the lesson I could learn from this incident. Beyond the need to drive safely and not be overconfident what struck me was that my obvious outward Jewish appearance not only didn’t provoke any negative or curious reaction from the lawmen but they even went out of their way to be helpful. But after spending five days in Houston I was no longer struck by this. I could see that Houston is a cosmopolitan city where a Jew can be comfortable with himself and with his environment — but more importantly at ease within his own tightly bound Jewish community.