I just happen to be in San Antonio this week.

There are certain cities that seem to belong to all Americans – New York, San Francisco, Chicago, New Orleans, and San Antonio are a few of them. They are cities unlike any others – they are anything but generic.

I was born in Houston and love it, but my heart lives in San Antonio. It is diverse, colorful, happy, hot, and loud. San Antonio is a 12 year old boy. The Air Force does basic training here and it is a very popular place for military retirees. But the city is dominated by young people because a dozen universities are here.

One of my sons went to college here. My sons are 5th generation Texans. His roommate, Miguel Tapia, was a 6th generation Texan. “I didn’t cross the border,” Tapia said, “the border crossed me.”

So, when a gifted young man of Hispanic background was the victim of obscene racist slurs for simply singing the National Anthem at a Spurs game, I was sickened.

Today I got to be a witness to this city, with class and grace, respond.

Sebastian, thank you for singing at the Spurs game again tonight. Thank you and this city for responding to hate with courage, class, and kindness.

I love yew, San Antonio.