BY ZOEY BETH MCQUEEN
The summer after my grandfather, Jay, passed, I spent my days looking through his 35mm slides on the floor of my studio, nearly catching a tan from the hot projector on my legs in the dark room. The first photo box started in 1957, when he got a sparkly new camera for his graduation present. Next box, same year, “Texas A&M – Freshman Year.” Most of my family members are Texas-Exes— including both my sisters— and it’s a big deal. But Jay’s triumph was not being a longhorn. My grandparents kept the Texas/A&M rivalry alive and well.
I’m far from religious about the place, but I do wear my Aggie Ring in Austin proudly.
Jay was an old-fashioned, sit around the fire Texas oracle type. With my sub-optimal degree of patience as a child and a built-in reverence for my white void of nothingness retreat in my mind, I regrettably tuned out a lot of conversions. But I remember once, he called me June Carter. I thought I had hid my music pretty nicely underneath my medical terminology books and college applications, but Jay— whom I discovered to be an incredible artist, writer, calligrapher, cinephile— saw right through me.
I graduated Texas A&M in December 2019 with a degree in Telecommunications and a minor in psychology. I walked off campus 60 years apart from my grandfather and 30 years apart from my father and my mother.
I was proud to have graduated Summa Cum Laude with a full-time job lined up for me. However, there were moments when I’d look down at my stole to see but a shade of fierce burning red that had slowly changed to blend in with everyone else. I hadn’t yet embraced the side of me that wanted to be in the studio. Instead, I was searching for the academic scholar who wore suits and signed emails “Kind regards,” with a motivational quote in cursive font. Or maybe just “Best”. That’s a power move. I would come to realize through waves of anxious acceptance and defeat that my corporate success wouldn’t be my identity— albeit suits are really cool and I really needed the salary to build up my studio.
I’ll hand it over to Brian for “demo-ing” most of the songs on my sophomore album, but Maroon… Maroon is all me. This one was crafted on my thrifted midi keyboard, all alone, just like how I would in College Station all those years. And I produced it in grandpa Jay’s home. Next to his closet, where I’ve kept every shade maroon.