Oklahoma

I admit that I was somewhat prideful as I was growing up when it came to Oklahoma ..and I also admit I am not really sure why. The Musical Oklahoma was a huge hit in the 50's ...and to have the place of your mothers birth immortalized in song was perhaps part of that ... The name Oklahoma comes from the Choctaw phrase okla humma, literally meaning red people. the fact that my Mother was part Cherokee may have also had a part in my pride . And at the same time the University of Oklahoma Sooners were on top of the football world . Guided by the Legendary Bud Wilkenson.

The last time I had been in Oklahoma was in 1960. I spent a summer there , Traveling by bus to Muldrow, and returning with my parents at the end of the Summer. That overland bud trip I suspect must have been partially responsible for my desire to wander about on the highways and byways of this country.

Writing about Oklahoma is complicated for me ...I have family there , dear sweet people ...Kin folk as they call themselves ...Hospitality is a given .. most of my Mothers family is still in the state , she was just one of a very few who escaped the gravity of the hard red clay , the blistering summer heat , and the bitter snows of winter.

As I pushed through the Texas Panhandle and entered Oklahoma ...driving down the dark ribbon of highway , alone in my van , alone in my relationship , looking for something I could not even conceive ... I was for the first time in my life utterly alone ...no friends , no family , no computer ...nothing to distract me from me ...It was a hard drive ...I needed to belong ..to be a part of something.

I realized that most of my life had been centered around me .. Friendship and relationships were for my benefit , not for the benefit of others ..for some 40 odd years I had place my needs , my wants , my ambitions and desires ahead of others . And as much as I would love to blame this current depression on my ex wife , the reality was I Had no one else to blame.

I know now that as I made that lonely drive , I was not really alone , though I had not called on His name He was there with me those long nights ... I just had not seen or heard Him yet

I am beaded

Today is my Birthday ..for some reason I feel melancholy . Its one thing squandering money ..you can always make more money , but squandering time ? that seems much different. Even in my most optimistic moments I realize there are far more years behind me , than I can imagine in front of me .

Lori woke me up today , with a big happy birthday and a kiss , a wonderful start to the day ! Its Friday and we both teach at a local Christian school . Lori , teaches theater and drama to grade school and middle school children , and speech to the High School kids. I teach Photography to High School and middle school . Lori and I also team teach the High School theater class. While at school my daughter called and wished me happy Birthday , Lori read to me the scores of Happy Birthday salutations on face book .

Twice today Lori had her class poke their heads in my classroom and wish me happy birthday. Lori is great with that sort of stuff , later today she has organized a get together with many of our friends at the local Steak and Shake . She also insisted I slip away for a little bit and visit one of our local parks that is Hosting an Native American Pow Wow .

Im just back from that event , I had hoped to catch some of the dancing , but that will be latter..I wandered around the grounds , listened to some " new " Native American music ..didn't like it much. Met an interesting man in one of the craft booths . Seems he had been to the Sisters Quilt show , and had some interesting stories about some of the people I found interesting in Sisters. Small world .

I left the pow wow and took a short trip into the woods neighboring the Pow Wow Grounds ...while chasing shadows and light in the forest I could hear the sound of Native American flute music in the distance ..I Liked that .

IN the parking lot I ran across one of the park rangers ..he thought I was trying to photograph some deer , looked a little puzzled when I told Him I was stalking light instead . He offered a suggestion , apparently not far from us there was an Oak tree that was struck by lightning a few months ago . He thought I might enjoy shooting that ...Gave me directions , but I could not find it . Found the light dancing on leaves instead .

That's the way it goes ....you seek one thing you find another . You think you are alone , and you find you have walked the same roads stared at the same people with another . YOU wake up to God's greatest gift for ,you singin happy birthday ..you teach others what you know , and you spend a few wonderful minutes with friends and Family reminding you the years aren't wasted , you have value in Him , and He is pleased to share it with others ...

I guess we are like a beaded basket , blowing in the wind ..waiting to be taken home . We have the appearance of being solid , but a carefully look shows us to be many parts , carefully put together , a work
of art in the Master Craftsman hands .

Guess when I think of all this I realize I am not so melancholy after all...the reality is I am a blessed man !

Travels with Chevy Van

By the Spring of 1995 I was pretty miserable. The separation from Karen and Kaisa ,a steady decline in the business ..loneliness I was worn down . My business crystal ball was not fully functioning and I assumed that eventualy because of my astute business brilliance the store would recover from the change in location.

Oh yes that year I had moved the location that had been so good for us . Partially because of a tenant dispute and also as a money saving idea.

The new location was a stand alone place a former church that had an upstairs loft that I Could maintain as a Living quarters . Still no shower or tub , but I was on shift at a Local Fire Department and had access to showers there.

Anyway some time during the Spring I got the idea to travel ,and travel a lot . Initially the plan was to be on the road for over six months and follow in the footsteps of John Steinbeck , with out the dog , and using a van instead .

I set a date of the day after Labour day as my departure date. During the Summer I Purchased a Chevy Van , removed the back seats , and turned it into a makeshift camper.

I had been spending a lot of time on AOL ...and had made several friends , most of them women and had set up several appointments with them . The deal was in return for Housing I would cook dinner. I had no idea what this really meant to some of the people I would be staying with , but I would learn later in the school of hard knocks .

Usually after a long day of sales and stocking shelves I would pour over the rand McNally Road trip software I had and work out my route . There were some places I Knew I want to visit for sure ...Los Angeles , San Diego , Albuquerque , Chicago , Dallas , Baton rouge , Montgomery Alabama , and Albany Georgia . were all pretty much definite on the list

I had my plans but God had His .

The Summer was no where near my expectations , in fact it was dismal , but I still managed to get a hefty down payment on a new Van ..planning to make up the difference with the Christmas Business and if Necessary the Next Summer. That Summer I had also decided to get a small apartment in a nearby town called Bend Oregon , and for the first time in my life I actually was living in a genuine apartment on my own . I bought new furniture , now art work , new dishes ..everything according to my taste ...it was kinda exciting ..but as time would show me it would have been better to spend all that money on Car Payments.

Anyway ..Summer came and went , I did make one good decision I decided to scale back the length of time I would be gone so I set out in Early September.

I had set up the van with a makeshift bed , I had a cooler , lantern , and a sleeping bag, cook stove , some pots and pans . MY plan was to camp out at night with the exception of the nights that I was given Hospitality ..I would drive till I got sleepy , and then head off again . I had thought I would have time to explore and enjoy the counry as I passed by . But I had not planned on the demons inside of me to so totally dominate my thoughts my sleep ...if I left anxious and excited I returned close to suicide , worn out even more lonely and dissatisfied with my life than I have ever been. The trip that was supposed to be my Journey of a lifetime , became an odyssey of despair and worry.

I had no idea of all this though as I waved goodbye to Sisters on that Tuesday morning and Headed South ...this should have been my first clue ...My original plan was to head East , but inexplicably ..I found my self heading south on 97 ... through the Central Oregon desert , and the burned out hulks of lodge pole pine devastated by disease and fire .

IT had been a bad fire season , the smell of burned forest in the air ...the face of Central Oregon was scarred and changed .... That spring grass would return , new growth and rebirth ....Out of the window I raced South , marking the stting sun in the passenger window .

Memories , long roads and dark nights

Its not unusual for Lori and I to spend hours trying to fit in al the things we have done in our lives together in the time we know we have been together. Seven trips to Richmond Indiana , two trips to the smokes , one vacation to San Francisco , Four or is it five trips to Oregon ? ...When was that time I stepped in dog mess on the Sunset Highway ? What year was it Kiasa came to visit here in Nashville ? What visit did Lee and Corrine get married in , which time did we visit the Grand ole Opry ...the list is seemingly endless ...so many events and seemingly so little time to compress them into .

And then there are those years before we met ...all the way back to the first year I was in kindergarten ...Or was it the second ? Failing Kindergarten is not something to put on you resume , but I think I can put it on mine . But I am getting ahead of myself here .

Anyway , last night Lori and I went out for Sushi , a rare treat lately as we try to save money for an upcoming Oregon Beach trip. ON the way to the restaurant I was trying to put the pieces together of these trips that I have been witting about . the problem is they don't seem to fit .

Between the day when Karen asked me to move out , till the day I met Lori ..I had managed to get in four trips to Southern California and Two trips to Oklahoma , As best as I can remember this the dates fall between Early fall of 1994 and early spring of 1996.
There is something about the monotony of driving espicially in the evening that helps me try to sort all these dates into some meaningful folders in my mind .
I sort them out , then neglect to write them down. The trip south out of Los Angeles may have been several months later than I first thought .
I spent about a week in San Diego , I do remember celebrating my Birthday at Dicks Last Resort in the Gas Light area. I enjoyed my visit with Cathi , she provided me with great guide service in San Diego, and some good words of advice about Gods Wisdom, words which made sense but still left me unconvinced that I should accept Christ. The visit with my Cousins in Selma had created an urge to head East . East meant connecting with 1-40 , a thin ribbon of road that leads East from Barstow California . Slips Northeast toward Flagstaff , then heads almost due East past Albuquerque , Amarillo , Oklahoma City, and then as it almost leaves the Sooner State you find yourself in Muldrow Oklahoma. As I crept into the Hills Just east of LA once again I started to think more about my childhood , early roots and screen windows.
I know this much , I was born in Denver Colorado , at the time my parents lived in a mining town called Climax Colorado , it is true I was conceived in Climax. The mine was an open pit mine and the ore being extracted was Molylibdium , a metal used mostly for Jet aircraft because of its strength and lightness ..I am reasonably certain that my Father worked on the sides of the pit , placing explosive charges into the earth. Probably suspended by thin cables and dangling several hundred feet in the air.
I vaguely remember my parents telling me of that Winter in Colorado with snow literally piled over the house we live in. The snow and the cold was probably why Mom and Dad considered moving to Portland , which they did within 19 months because that is when my brother was born in Portland Oregon ...I am not sure if he was conceived in Climax or not , and that is one question I probably would not want to ask Aunt Alice.
When we moved to Portland we lived in Sellwood , a small suburb south of Downtown Portland, and about three blocks from my fathers Parents. Elizabeth and Herman Sitlger. Herman was an immigrant from Germany and work for the Blitz Brewery in Portland , Elizabeth an immigrant from England. My best recollections of Elizabeth was of her crocheting and making coffee.
My mothers home was far away in Muldrow Oklahoma , her Father was Native American , and her Mother was an Irish Immigrant. In those days there was little talk of " Illegal immigrants " and more talk about the sins of the Native Americans . so when my Mothers Father " registered " with the US Government he fibbed and said He was 1/2 native. So now legally I am 1/8th .
My first recollection /Memory of life was living in Sellwood , this Memory is more like a composite of many memories , and is more likened to the debris at the bottom of a large cliff where deposits are all mixed together giving no indication of Chronology.
I remember a babysitter who lived across the street , neighbors who become famous when they got the first TV in the block and we would go over to vist and take a look at the new device. I remember my brother and I shared a room and I had the top bunk until it was determined that my bed wetting was making his life difficult , so I ended up with the bottom bunk.
At first I was troubled by this but two great benefits soon extended themselves to me. The first was I found that by tucking a sheet or blanket into the top bunk I could make myself a private cave ..a cave that was my own private and personal fortress. and that my being on the bottom bunk gave me ready access to the bedroom window that afforded me an opportunity to relive myself with out hiking downstairs to the bathroom.
The screen in front of the window was no obstacle to me but I do remember a slight changing of color that soon gave me away , that and the fact that one night I urinated on my father who was taking out the garbage. MY father was understanding and only used his hand on my bare butt and not the belt , something that at the time I was unable to appreciate the grace involved.
We lived in that house until I was six years old ...I went to Kindergarten early , and I must have had some problems because the next year when we moved ..I repeated Kindergarten ...I am not sure if you can say that life is up hill or down hill after you fail kindergarten , but somehow I survived ...my only memory of my first school experience is accidental hitting a girl with a jumping rope and then being so frightened , and scared of the sure and swift punishment I hid behind a tree until the class went back into the school , then I waited until school was out and pretended I had been in class when my mother walked down to pick me up. I am sure that in time the realization that my class had spent the rest of the day not missing me had some profound effect on my life , but I am not sure at this time what it was.
There was a park not far from where we lived ( Sellwood Park ) and my mother would take my brother and I there , and she would lay out a blanket and watch us as we played on the swings , and teeter toter . I have a picture I took of this place a few years ago and I swear that the teeter totter boards look like the originals we played on.
It was there that I first realized how much I could torment my brother , I would spin him so fast on the playground merry go ground that he was no longer merry , I would raise him far up on the teeter totter then let him fall to the ground ..all this seemed to accomplish two things , one he lived in fear of me , and two I learned to live in fear of my fathers belt when he heard about behavior when he came home.
It was at a very early age that I learned there were consequences to my actions , but learning that and stopping them seemed like light years apart ...I knew from a very early age what I should do , and what I should not do , but I was compelled and driven to do the opposite.
As my sixth year was winding down , I became aware that plans were being made to move away from this paradise ...boxes were packed , furniture stacked , and we moved to a Suburb of Portland on the west side called Multnomah..the new house was smaller , there was no upstairs ( this is fallout from peeing on your father ). but it had a garage , and a very large lot and an extra lot as well ...there was room to roam and explore and still be close to home. There were adventures to be had , friends to make and books to open , and it all lay ahead of me ...

ON the Road again ..the other side of Life

Four hours later I arrived in Selma ...that drive gave me a lot of time to meander down the pathways of my childhood and nibble away at the edges of my memory of life after High School life after High School . MY Anut Loy was fun to talk to , we shared some Ice tea and some conversation about when the Family had come to visit back in the 50's ...I spent some time with one of my cousins , and declined hospitality to spend the night , instead late at night I headed back out , moving my car closer to Los Angeles.
I would be there very late, but I would miss the traffic. The conversation with my cousin had really started me thinking. I went back to the thought about our lives being a tapestry, and I was realizing there is not much difference between a net and a tapestry, and the difference between them. I wondered how many people were caught in nets of their own. When we enter life, we are a part of someone’s work - the life we weave is a part of a larger work and often just our past traps us before we even have a chance to start our own work. Nancy had grown up in Selma; a child of Dust Bowl evacuees, her entire world had been formed around a hub of grape farming. She had inherited her mother’s smile, her father’s laugh and her family’s religion.

I must admit that this has been a huge stumbling block in my Christian life. It has always seemed to me that Christianity does have a cultural component to it, that many people who are Christians in the United States would be Muslim if they were born in Iraq. It has always seemed to me that there are loving and gentle people of good heart who are associated with most of the world faiths, and there are people who love to condemn others in most faiths as well.

Well, the drive from Selma to Los Angeles takes abut three hours, and I was up and over the Grapevine by 2 a.m. I had an urge to Cruise Sunset Blvd. I grew up with television, and Sunset Strip was one of those great icons of my youth. I have seen so many car chases down Sunset Blvd., I knew I would be no stranger there.

Soon I saw an exit that proclaimed Sunset Blvd /Hollywood, and I took it - and for a little bit, I did feel I was in the wrong place. This road of my teenage dreams wound unimpressively through a residential neighborhood, then squeezed past UCLA. I craned my neck, looking for the famous coeds, but none appeared. I drove past the Hotel California, past the famous neighborhoods of star worship - but I saw very few people or cars. Then I surged out of Beverly Hills and into the Sunset Blvd. of my remembrance. It’s not difficult to find temptation on the Strip, and everywhere I looked there were girls: some quietly and some sheepishly offering themselves for sale to the men and boys who flitted like fruit flies on the Strip and the intersecting roads. I saw lots of police, but they seemed hopelessly outnumbered. The words of the Paul Simon song, The Boxer, found their way into my mind: “There were times when I was so lonely that I took some comfort there,” and I wondered what drove the men to circle and the women to offer themselves up to strangers with such ease. I thought, “Somewhere there is a wife sleeping, comfortably unaware; and someplace else, a girlfriend fretting. Somewhere, a family room with a picture of a pert young girl with a flawless complexion looking out over the mantle. How many faces did I see that where in some living room in a distant land, framed with love and remembered in adoration? I wonder how long it takes for a policeman on this beat to lose faith with his or her fellowman, and distill all of us into a caricature of these evening immigrants. They are explorers and inhabitants of a world that borders Suburbia. Sedans and station wagons replace covered wagons and sailing ships - but there is only bitter harvest here. No minerals, no lumber - only broken dreams and passionless passion. I’m sure both seller and customer each will bear the marks of the blows that cut them down. I admit that I was fascinated by this swarm of people – the furtive looks, the outlandish appearance, the men in cars darting from lane to lane. Police with stoic understanding, stopping, questioning. Lights glimmering neon; proclaiming billboards elbowing each other; while in another world, not too far away, families slept and college students worked into the late hours forming paragraphs about social justice and world change. I suspect every major city has their Sunset Strip. It’s always a place on the “other side of the tracks,” just outside our understanding - but close enough to point at. I think each of us has our own Strip as well; it’s a place were we can occasionally blur the line between right and wrong. It’s also a place we can easily recognize in others. And just as it seems that those of us in Portland and Sacramento like to point toward Sunset Blvd. and Times Square, in our own home towns there are streets that slither through the gardens we have built.

I wanted to see Grumen’s Chinese Theater before I left, and I finally found it a few blocks away on Hollywood Blvd. The sun was coming up; the tops of the buildings were soaking in the light. There was a relay going on, and the people of the night were handing the baton over to the people of the morning. The bus stops were filling up with tired-looking people, most of them Hispanic or black, and most seemed to be headed into the richer neighborhoods of Beverly Hills and Belair. I suspect these were the domestics, the ones who mowed the neatly landscaped yards, who tended the dogs and washed the cars and a thousand other menial jobs. Some of these people stared at me with fierce pride, but most simply seemed to be asleep on their feet , thinking of the last moment of love’s embrace or of bills to be paid .

I pulled into a Denny’s for a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. I know I must have had a book with me; if I eat alone, I have to have something to read with me. I’m sure there is something Freudian about that, but I think I will save the money on the exam and use it to buy more books. I was probably in Denny’s for about an hour, and when I came out I saw a new crowd taking the baton. These were the secretaries and the young executives, some at the bus stops and some in their own cars, filling up the Strip once again. As I looked at these people, I saw some staring back defiantly and others asleep, thinking of last moments of love’s embrace or bills to be paid.


My next stop was Chula Vista, just South of San Diego. There was a dear online friend I planned to visit there; her screen name was Quietedone, and her real name was Cathi.

Mom at Home

I do not know very much at all about my Mother and fathers Courtship . I do know that as were growing up , there were very few signs of Public affection between them , A hug and a kiss when dad came home from work , an occasional hug was as much as would see . I Knew some how instinctively that they loved each other , and loved each other deeply . Dad had no interests in other women , and Mother had only one man in her life ..when my father passed in 1974 , my mother never remarried , she missed him deeply for the next 26 years ..she never indicated to me she wanted to remarry , John , or Johnny as she called him was her one true love .

Dad was the visible one in our family , out front , the joker , the kidder , the one most inclined to be the life of the party . Mom was more than content to be by his side , a smirk followed by a smile an occasional right Jab when needed.

Once married Mom never worked outside the home , inside the home she was tireless. laundry , cleaning , cooking , gardening , shopping , help with homework and tutoring . Laundry was the real chore , we had an Agitator style washer in those early years , Mom hung the clothes out to dry either outside on the sunny days or in the basement during the rain.

Outside we had a impressive vegetable garden .Mom loved cucumbers and tomatoes , Compost from shredded trees my father cut down for Portland general electric , and fresh manure from Alpennrose dairy, provided necessary nutrition to the soil . We also had onions, radish , and green peppers . Salads were a big hit in our home. Most of our meals had meat involved , we had very little fish with the exception of smelt and the occasional Salmon, Meat was usually venison or Elk , my dad was a very good hunter in season and out . My mother would slice and fry potatoes to go with the meal , occasionally they would be boiled and mashed. Desert was either some baked goods or Jello, we ate a lot of Jello in those days . Plain , with fruit and with carrots . After dinner it was time for homework .

MY mother barely made it out of grade school , yet she had a great deal of respect for education . Some of my earliest memories are of her holding " flash " cards in front of us encouraging us with Math and sentence structure. She enjoyed Soap operas on TV her favourite was as the World turns ...she loved that show , but would gladly give it up for me when I stayed home sick from school so I could watch our miss brooks , or the Gail Storm show , often we would sit ont he couch and watch Perry mason together . and at night after Dad had gone to bed we would sit under a blanket on the couch eating stove top popcorn and watching Armchair Theater.


'Food shopping was family affair all four of us would pile int he care and we would go to the Fred Meyer store in Burlingame . a suburb of Portland . There Bob and i would be left in front of the Comic Book stand , where we would ravenousnessly read the latest DC and Marvel comics ,then Dad and mom would appear with these plastic numbers in their hands , we would go out to the car fix them unto the windshield then drive the car to the Store where , young men would place our Groceries in the car .

Clothes shopping was Mom , Bob and me . Mom did not drive a car , she never leaned that art and show very little interest in doing so . There were no clothing stores in the suburbs , we had to go downtown , which meant taking a bus . Public Transportation was very good in Portland those days . so Good I took it for granted . We would head off ot down town where we would end up at the trail ways bus station just a few blocks from our prime destination Meirer and Frank Department store . Staring on the fist floor then up to the fourth floor in an Elevator with a uniformed Elevator man handling the buttons . then a decent into the lower regions of the Department store and the " bargain " basement where we spent most of our time and money . Sometimes we would get separated , but we always knew to meet on the first floor by the Clock. the rallying point for scores of separated children from their parents which also happened to be adjacent to the candy Department

The First Floor of the Department store had a hardwood floor , the wood seemed to soak up the smells from the Candy department in the corner ,Popcorn ,Carmel Corn , fresh roast nuts , sweets and chocolates all available by the pound ...As tempting as these were , we would usually leave the store ..and cross to the Kress store across the street , where the candy and confections were cheaper.
Tired and foot sore we would all walk back up the bus station and take one of three buses headed back into our neighborhood hoping for the Capital Highway bus which would deposit us a mere two blocks from our home ...the Garden Home Metzger bus would leave us in downtown Multnomah a another Portland Suburb about 5 blocks from our home.
Kindergarten When we arrived home we had either fresh baked cookies or cupcakes waiting for us . For a few hours we would play in the yard or in our room during the occasional wet Northwest weather. In a very short period of time after we arrived home the scent of fresh backed goods would be overcome by the stronger smells of meat frying in the cast Iron pots and Potatoes frying next to them . Time for Dad to come home

Out of the Dust ..Moving West

I have a photo of my Mother on the wall in our den. She looks young ..probably in her twenties . Dark curly hair , eyes looking ahead , not at the camerman , but distant , but with purpose. Her mouth is slightly open as if she is saying " ok whats next ? " .

Life came at her hard .her own mother died early , Mom was the oldest girl , and by all acounts she took over the mother duties when her mother passed. Her father remarried , but what might have been a happy ending , turned tragic , when her stepmother gave birth to a severely handicapped child. The step mother abandoned all pretext of carring for her four step children , to the point of being abusive. The Step Children were parceled out to different relatives , all living marginally in poverty ridden Indian territory.


The Depression , racial prejudice , climate , all contributed to the living conditions . 1930 in the plains were dark days . Thousands of people had left Oklahoma , driven out by the economy and the frequest dust storms that lterally blotted out the sky. Dust so thick that newspapers frequently told of mass deaths of birds and rabbits who were unable to find shelter from the storm. The dust was a silent killer adding to respiratory deaths and tuburculous. No crops meant no food ...no food meant no hope.

It is no mystery why so many left the state looking for better pastures. Initially States like Oregon and California welcomed the refugees , but as the Westward Migration became a flood the doors were shut . State police in California waited on the Border , turning away any one who had no money.

What is a mystry is why so many stayed behind . Only a very small portion of my Mothers family Left Oklahoma , somehow against this dreary landscape they managed to survive , forming close bonds of family and holding onto the promise of better days ahead through a harden faith in God , forged in small town churches ..with tattered pictures of Jesus on the wall , and hymns ground out on dusty pianos for the affluent churchs and barely strung guitars for the poorer ones .

I do not know very much at all about this time in my mothers life ... I do know that in the 1940's she went west on a Greyhound bus ..a Journey that must have taken courage and resolve , ad difficult s times were as hard as her life was it was the life she knew and it would be replaced by a new state , and new vocation and ultimatly a new relationship.