Continuing our review of the Oklahoma headlines for 2012, we now move to Febraury. Here’s a quick snapshot of the news during a very busy, leap-year length month!
(Photo: Controversial SkyDance Bridge project almost complete. Photo by Doug Hoke, Daily Oklahoman.)
Blackwell residents received $118 million in damages related to a 1974 zinc smelter operation contamination.
Debate about federal birth control mandates heat up and Oklahoma Catholic leaders get involved.
Issues related to the Chickasaw and Choctaw nation lawsuit against the State of Oklahoma influence action from Governor Fallin to request mediation, and to drop the lawsuit. The tribes’ response a few days later was to refuse dropping the action.
OKDHS named an interim chief, but then had to withdraw the placement because of “conflict of interest” concerns.
A narcotics dispensing law gets passed which required documentation for prescribing controlled medications.
The National Teacher Certification bonus was threatened with being abandoned due to lack of funds.
Emily Matheson and Fabio Brown were arrested for allegedly paying $250 to have Jessica Lynn Brown murdered.
Rick Santorum visited Oklahoma City to campaign for the Republican presidential spot on the 2012 ticket.
Jimmy Don Smith was sentenced to ten years in prison (in a plea deal) for the beating and resulting paralysis of police officer Chad Peery.
Oklahoma City Public Schools implement their first Daddy-Daughter dance to involved fathers of their students to a greater degree.
The state of Oklahoma paid $300K to settle a lawsuit filed by a mother who “hid her children after DHS workers rejected her concerns the girl had been molested.” The mother spent time in jail rather than give up the whereabouts of her daughter.
Anthony Shadid, Pulitzer Prize winning author, dies at age 43 on assignment in Syria.
Announcements are made about the play, “August: Osage County” being made into a film. Meryl Streep and Julia Roberts are to star in the project, and it will be shot on location in Oklahoma.
The Oklahoma City Thunder continues a strong winning record on their home course.
The I-40 Crosstown project continue to open up new sections of the improvements, with the Sky Bridge project garnering praise and criticism.
Ron Paul’s stop at the Oklahoma State Capitol drew a large crowd.
Scott Brooks was named to coach the Western Conference in the All-Star game. His team won the game, with Kevin Durant leading the scoring.
A trial examining charges against State Senator Mike Morgan re: political corruption gets much paper and TV time.
Tomorrow, we’ll lead you through the mighty month of March, 2012!
( PHOTO: Galen Scott, his wife Jennifer and six-month old Benjamin embrace as Scott returns from deployment in January, 2012. Photo by Scott Sisney, Daily Oklahoman.)
My, my, how time does fly! So the Red Dirt Chronicles is going to help remind you about what flew by in our Oklahoma headlines during 2012.
For the next several days, we’ll be releasing a quick snapshot of headlines we’ve reviewed from either the Daily Oklahoman or Tulsa World, and summarizing them here for you.
First up? January. Here we go…
OSU beat Stanford in the Fiesta Bowl with a last minute play to end the game at 41-38. Celebrations ensued.
The Oklahoma City Thunder began raising energy across Oklahoma with buzz about “what if” when talking about a NBA Championship.
OKDHS troubles and changes included closure on a lengthy lawsuit, and the decision by Director Hendrick to retire as Director of the agency.
The first death row execution of 2012 happened here in the state of Oklahoma when inmate Gary Welch was put to death for fatally stabbing Robert Hardcastle in a 1994 drug dispute. Welch was kept from committing suicide three weeks prior to his execution.
Boeing added one thousand jobs to the state.
The I-40 crosstown lanes opened, and crews began tearing down the old bridge sections.
Judge Tammy Bass was convicted of fraud against the state foster care system.
Special note: On January 31st of 2011, 18 year old Sarah McKinly, mother of a three month old baby, shot Justin Martin as he intruded into her mobile home.
The jury was selected for the Garth Brooks’ trial vs. Integris at Rogers County Court House.
Obama blocks the national pipeline project, then senators began to rally for a bill to bypass Obama’s blocking action.
Oklahoma City Councilman “Skip” Kelly arrested on a DUI charge for the 2nd time.
And…
Joe Paterno died at 85 years of age, following a horrific Penn State scandal wherein multiple levels of negligence were revealed related to protecting children on campus from being sexually abused by assistant coach, Jerry Sandusky.
Check us out tomorrow if you’d like to review the Oklahoma headlines for February, 2012!
This sign has magical powers. It makes my taste buds sing Christmas tunes.
Note – we published this post on Dec. 11 last year. I believe it’s so important that I’m re-publishing it this year…11 days earlier! ~ RDK This little neon sign holds a special power over me every year. The moment the “on” switch is finally flipped by a mysterious candy maker, an invisible beacon begins to sound across the prairie…over the north side of OKC and across Edmond…until it reaches my taste buds. It’s like Christmas Music, only in my mouth! What is so powerful, so unique and so delicious as to send me swooning around this time of year? It’s Woody Candy Company (Oklahoma’s Oldest & Finest Family Owned Candy Company), going strong since 1927. Their full array of special candy recipes are offered every year to the public ~ from Thanksgiving weekend through Valentine’s Day. After that? Closed again…until the next year.
Find where the origin of the powerful beacon at 922 N.W. 70th, Oklahoma City, OK.
Claude and Lucille Woody set out 93 years ago to do one thing very well: “To make the best candy in the world.” In MY world, there is no doubt that they succeeded. I personally think there must be something very special about the name Lucille. I may have to change my super-hero persona to a cowgirl who rides horses, shoots targets with precision accuracy AND makes “the best candy in the world!”
I want to take you there, but I can’t take all of you. There’s not enough room in my car. So instead, I will take you there with a few photos I “shot” today with my six-shooter (my Canon PowerShot SD970IS). I hope you can go on your own. And if you do, tell them Red Dirt Kelly sent you. This message will confuse them since they have no idea who I am. But it will be fun for me! I’ve gone to this store for eight years in a row. I was introduced to this magical place by my friend Joanne, and now I’m introducing you in case you don’t know about this special secret.
And one more thing…comment on this blog, and I will enter you into a drawing (to be given away next Friday) for your choice of either: 1) A box of Toffle; 2) A box of their version of what you know as Aunt Bill’s candy; or, 3) A box of their delectable “Turtle” candies – caramel, chocolate and Oklahoma pecans. The average price ranges from $15 to $30 per box. If you’ve never had Toffle, you might not understand what it’s like to have a glimpse of heaven on earth. Toffee, sweet, salty, crunchy with HUGE pecans…it’s a dream…
“Yeah. The road’s starting to break down, isn’t it?”
“Well, maybe. But I was just thinking it looks like my facial skin feels after I get out of a hot shower in the morning.”
“Oh. And it also looks like my lips when they get chapped.”
Mick and I were walking and when it’s just you, a country road and 1.5 hours of time together, these are the kinds of conversations that happen.
For the past two days, we’ve walked 4.5 and 4.0 miles respectively. Our paths have been different four square mile routes and we’re discovering quite a bit of brand new information about the area in which we’ve lived for the past eight years. For example, someone close to us sells goats. That was brand new information.
There is a “Two Bears Creek” on Coffee Creek Road and the owners of the land adjacent to the creek put two baby ceramic bears out by the road, in case anyone needed a smile.
We identified at least three different kinds of animal poo, decided the neighborhood association needs to sponsor a “trash pick up day,” saw some rats, took a peek at the police firearm training facility, checked out some Angus cattle, found a perfectly good sun protector (those kind that fold out and keep your car from turning into a convection oven during the summer), and yelled at a couple of bluejays.
One other thing…I think I asked to stop at least twenty times because for the past two days the sunsets have been amazingly, outrageously, incredibly, georgeously lovely… Continue reading Hubby Walks→
Snow is falling on this chilly fall night, causing me to shift gears from Thanksgiving clean-up to Christmas preparations. Amy Grant will sing about a “Tender Tennessee Christmas”. Those boys from Alabama serenade us with “Christmas in Dixie.” Becky Hobbs will sing the song she penned, “Oklahoma Christmas”. The rest of us enjoy singing our favorite Christmas carols at church over the next few weeks, counting down to the day we celebrate the birth of Christ.
The song that will best describe me this year is “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” . . . if only in my dreams. My husband and I established our home in rural Indiana shortly after tying the knot at Tulsa in 1988. Even though I am very happy here, Southwestern Oklahoma will always hold a special place in my heart. With that in mind, it’s time for another visit to the red dirt area of Altus – even if it’s only in my dreams. (Cue the wavy screen effect)
So, what is so special about Altus this time of year? Too many memories for me to recount here, instead let’s take a peek at some of the current Christmas celebrations happening this month.
Jimmy Geigle has organized the 3rd annual Toy Run for motorcyclist this year. It is scheduled to take place Saturday, December 1 at 12:30 pm. Riders from across the state will join the run with a parade escort to deliver toys to the Altus Fire Department. The toys will be distributed by the Salvation Army and DHS. Folks around Altus are generous to a fault, but it never ceases to amaze me when the pictures from the Toy Run are posted. Many of the motorcycles look like they are carrying the entire contents of Santa’s sleigh!
The annual Christmas Parade steps off from the parking lot of Western Oklahoma State College. on Sunday, December 2, at 3 p.m., Complete with a police escort, marching bands, floats, and of course, Santa’s grand arrival via Altus Fire Truck, the parade is a ton of fun for people of all ages. While the Altus Times reports this as the 32nd annual Christmas Parade, it has been going on for much longer. From watching it as a child, sometimes perched on Papa’s shoulders, to riding a motorcycle in the parade for several years during the 1970s, memories of the Christmas parade fill my mind with happiness untold.
Christmas would not be Christmas without cantatas and candle-lit services. Tabernacle Baptist Church will present a cantata on Sunday, December 16. Southside Baptist Church will share their cantata on Sunday morning, December 23. Emmanuel Baptist Church will celebrate the Reason for the Season with a candle-light service on Christmas Eve. A quick google search gave the above information – there are probably other churches in town with their own Christmas celebrations. Take time this season to remember that Christ’s birth is the reason for the season.
The Christmas lights of Altus shine brightly this time of year. Families and businesses deck the halls with many gorgeous displays, making a drive thru town at night a festive affair. Nothing, however, can top the “Christmas in the Park” display at the Altus City Park, located on East Broadway, between Park Lane and Park Avenue. The park becomes a magical mix of vision, love, labor and lights, a tradition that began around thirty years ago, with the vision of Sonny Tims and a handful of other longtime Altusans.
Rumors abound that this could be the last year for the lights, due to vandalism. Thanks to a handful of dedicated elves, this year’s show is now in progress nightly. Park your car or truck at the Altus High School parking lot, and take a stroll thru the park. Enjoy the work of the elves as you gaze at the lighted Christmas trees and animated displays while creating some new memories for you and your family.
Before or after enjoying these treats that Altus has to offer during December, take time to patronize some of the locally owned businesses and restaurants. Some favorite stops along the way are the Sunshine Café and Roberts’ Drive-In (which is now a sit-in diner) on East Broadway. The Grapevine Café or Benny’s Pizza & Mexican Restaurant on North main are also quite tasty. To finish off your shopping list, visit Petal Pushers, Scott Farms (for your “Made In Oklahoma” gifts) or the Sandyland Vineyard.
(Cue the wavy screen effect)
Looks like I have been off in dreamland way too long now. It is time to get bundled up, go outside and shovel some snow. Wonder if I’ll see some Christmas lights out there?
Tonight I was working with my daughter’s friend on a project we’ve had “in process” for six and one-half years. We had just finished our last review when a young man she was dating showed up at the door. He had venison in tow, and they were going to make deer chili for dinner.
I was lost in the world of placing orders on the internet when a piece of conversation rushed through the air and broke apart the mental fog covering my head.
“…well, you could have some Fritos with it, or some cheese…”
“I think I’ll have some Fritos AND some cheese…”
For some reason I can only attribute to my weariness level, I fixated on the word “Fritos.” I thought about the fact that we have half a bag at home, closed with a rubber band, and that I should probably make some chili too.
Then I thought about a time when I was very young, and I was in a car parked in my grandpa’s pasture beside his farm pond. We had gone there to fish, and someone – either my grandpa, or my uncle, or someone in my family – was telling me that the fishing was always better in the rain. They had a bag of Fritos in the car and offered me some.
I felt safe in the car, learning the basics of fishing from someone whom I assumed knew it all. Me, a family member, a bag of Fritos, and a rainy day….
I snapped out of my day dreaming and smiled. I don’t know where that memory came from, but I needed it. I closed my eyes and thought about the raindrops coming down onto the surface of the pond that day.
I love Fritos.
But I really, really love little memories like that one.
I sometimes wonder if I absorbed too many of the ideals within childhood novels like “Mandy” and “The Secret Garden.” I certainly understand the longing of both protagonists to have their own “bit of earth.” Or to discover, clean and claim as their own…. a remote “Seashell Cottage” hidden deep within the woods somewhere.
I think those novels, plus a culmination of my years of being a dreamer influenced me to truly embrace the historical home we bought downtown in 1990. And to truly grieve when we sold it and moved back to Suburbia.
I love old homes; my mind erupts with the possibilities of the lives, conversations, and events that transpired within their walls. When I walk through one, it’s as if my spirit communes with the ghosts of past conversations still living in the air, in the wood and emitting from the beams or chimneys.
That’s why I take time to walk through a few of them every year. Sometimes when there’s an open house I’ll duck into it upon a whim. Other times, there might be one for sale and I just might call the realtor to see if they happen to be visiting the property, and when, and…if I “could meet them there to do a walk-through…and, no, I’m really not interested, but I might be someday…and I might run into someone who is.”
That’s how I found my most recent muse. It’s my secret house. But I can’t tell you about it, really, because if I did I might give away all the research I’ve already done on the house. And then if I do, it wouldn’t be my secret world anymore, right?
So, I won’t tell you about a home on Northeast 36th Street in Forest Park, Oklahoma. I won’t tell you that it’s involved in a long, drawn-out foreclosure process that is taking the maximum amount of time possible so that the poor house is falling into more and more disrepair as each day goes by. I won’t tell you that the entire police force of Forest Park has taken it upon themselves to keep an eye on the place because they want to protect the property for the person who eventually does buy it.
I won’t tell you that the home sits on a five acre lot right in the center of the Oklahoma City metropolitan area, nor that not only is the house huge but there is a second home on the property that appears to have been built around 1945-1960, based upon the wood paneling and style inside.
I won’t tell you that there are numerous animal cages, sheds, and a ton of junk hiding behind the trees and bamboo growing on the property…and that the cleanup process would probably reach over the $50K mark.
There’s something you should know about me. I am a very effective driver.
What I mean by “effective” is that I don’t generally speed in vast way, but I always drive at least the speed limit. I never get tickets, and I haven’t been involved in a wreck since my youthful days. I turned thirty, and for some reason my need for speed disappeared. Well, unless I was test driving a really cool car. And, well, until today.
I’m off work today and one of my tasks was to meet with my doctoral advisor. We have a laundry list of tasks to complete and I was driving to the university too quickly. I suppose I just wanted to get to Stillwater, “get ‘er done” and get home. It’s Thanksgiving Eve, for crying out loud.
Then my husband called while I was en route. He was headed to the golf course and though he left his prescription eye glasses in my car. Could I look?
“Oh, sure babe…I’d love too, but right now I’m getting pulled over by the highway patrol. I’ll call you back.”
“Uh…okay.”
I pulled over in an efficient manner. I unzipped my backpack quickly, immediately found my driver’s license and insurance card, and had both the drivers and passenger windows completely down before the patrolman even reached my car.
As he leaned down, he was met with the sight of my arm fully extended, offering him my identification and promise that I was keeping myself and others protected with insurance. He looked like he was about to say something so I just jumped in and cut him off.
“It’s completely my fault. I was speeding. I’m going to a meeting at the university and I got in a hurry. I’m very sorry and this is totally a “NO CONTEST” situation. You’re right, I was wrong. Here’s all the information you need.”
He hesitated for about 2 seconds. Then said, “Uh, ma’am, I clocked you going 83 in a 75 zone.”
Somewhere over the Arkansas-Louisiana border at 40,000 feet I was startled out of my daydreaming state by an announcement coming over the cabin microphone: “Kelly from Edmond? Would you please turn on your call light?”
“Cripes,” I thought to myself. Then I said it aloud. “Cripes! I probably dropped my wallet or something.” I was talking half to myself and half to an OSU student I had met who had lots of questions about flying. She was sitting across the aisle from me grinning. “Um…” I started. Then I made eye contact with the flight attendant who was standing in the first class section and waved weakly. “Here I am…” My voice trailed off. I felt like a child.
The flight attendant saw me, smiled way bigger than should have fit a wallet-losing scenario, and began making her way down the aisle. When she reached me, she held out her hand and offered me a piece of paper that looked like airline-logo-stuff. “Here you go,” she said. “The people in seats one and two sent these to you as their compliments.”
I turned the paper over. Printed on the back were two coupons, good for a snack or a drink. I glanced up at her, “Um. Well, thanks! Can I buy a ‘hug coupon’ from you and send it their way??” She smiled and returned to the front.
The gift was from the parents of a former drama student of mine I taught approximately 18 years ago. However, he wasn’t just any student. This was one of those students who wrestled his way into my heart no matter how hard I tried to keep the door shut. He was brilliant, mischievous (okay, he was a real brat), in trouble constantly, and to this day I still hear from him about once a year. As I fidgeted with the coupons, my thoughts drifted backward…
I allowed him to borrow my car once because his was blocked in and I needed someone to pick up pizza for our set construction day. He did. He wanted to do something nice for me. So, he drove my car five miles further than I expected, filled up my gas tank with his father’s credit card, then drove away with the gas line and pump still attached to my car. This was before they had “break-away” hoses, so he pulled the entire pump over, and my insurance paid out a $6800 settlement six months later. A week after that, the gas station closed it’s doors. Go figure.
This same kid attended at least three of my children’s birthday parties, made a brief showing at my daughter’s wedding, came by for my younger daughter’s high school graduation party, and dressed up as a gumball machine for one particular party when they were younger. He tied a 55 gallon translucent garbage bag around his knees, filled it with all colors of inflated balloons, then taped the top around his neck. Oh, and two days after my hysterectomy I was lying on my couch at home recovering when he and his new bride stopped their “get away limo,” ran into my house, and gave me a hug in their wedding clothes before leaving for their honeymoon.
Ten years ago, I used to get a little freaked out about airplane flights. Perhaps because my children were younger and my mothering instinct was hyperactively feeding me thoughts prior to take off. The sequence would go something like this: “I’m sure this plane is safe. What if it’s not? They don’t even have those little kiosks for plane crash insurance in the airport like they used to…if they did, I would have gotten some. If the plane starts going down, will I have enough time to write Mick instructions about all the kids’ activities at school and special circumstances regarding our mommy car pool? Why am I thinking this – of COURSE the plane is safe!…But what if it’s not?”
I also used to politely look at the flight attendant providing instructions for a “water landing” when they were giving their schpiel prior to take off. I used to purchase airport food more often because I didn’t think about eating before I went in or about packing snacks in my purse. I used to over pack. I used to check my ticket fifty times each flight and think about what the next step might be when we landed, such as finding the baggage claim area or the bathrooms.
I used to do a lot of things that drained most of my mental energies and kept me from enjoying my trips when I flew somewhere for business. Not any more. A combination of grown children, flying three or four places per year over the past decade, and becoming familiar with most of the major U.S. airports has done wonders for my psychological state during business trips.
Yesterday I flew to Atlanta. I normally allow myself one luxury item per trip and that usually takes the form of some fiction paperback I can finish on the first day. I had already purchased my copy of John Grisham’s “Ford County Stories” for the flight (you know, Grisham – because I was headed to the South?) and was walking toward the Delta gate when I spied a small Sonic in the fast-food conglomerate past the bookstore. “Sweet tea. All I need to top off this delightful reading experience on my way to Atlanta is a Route 44 iced tea from Sonic,” I thought. I careened left, changing lanes across the packed aisles of walking traffic in the airport and slid into the fast food line safely.
My ½ and ½ tea (I can’t drink straight sweet tea, I ask them to mix it with half unsweetened) was good for having been purchased at a place sporting 90% fried stuff on the menu. I boarded the plane and began my book. I don’t remember the flight starting. I hadn’t really paid attention to the person who was sitting beside me. I think at one point my right and her left elbows were jockeying for position on the arm rest. And I was not cognizant of how long the flight would take or even that we had taken off. I was already deeply entrenched in “Chapter One: Blood Drive;” I was being transported to a scene in a small town where three young men took a detour on their way to give blood for a local friend who had been injured. I was in fiction heaven.
I was in the middle of “Chapter Three: Fish Files,” page 110 when the plane landed. I reluctantly closed my book and said hello to the person sitting at my side. She was from Norman, OK and was headed to Amsterdam to see her son. I noticed she had a designer bag, perfect make-up and probably dyed her hair based upon the age of her face. She looked cool and started a conversation with me; she talked cool too. We chatted for a minute and I reached down to grab my tea.
Having rested in the magazine holder for the entire flight, a film of condensation had begun covering the outside of my Route 44 Sonic Cup and no sooner had I picked it up then it slipped from my fingers and fell to floor of the plane. I sighed with relief as it landed because the cup remained in an upright position. “Lucky break of the day,” I thought. That thought had come too quickly, however, because when I picked the cup up an erratic stream of ½ and ½ tea began to leak out in two different directions. Huh? I looked at the bottom of the cup to see my extra long straw had somehow been harpooned right through the bottom of the cup upon impact. I quickly thought about shoving it into my purse…no! I looked around and decided to put it back on the floor to utilize the pressure of the carpet, somewhat like you would when applying a tourniquet to a bleeding wound. I turned around to look for any leftover cup the flight attendant missed and was met with a barf bag hovering right in front of my face.
“Barf bag!” my cool seat mate exclaimed, “Try this!” Perfect. I slipped the plastic coated bag underneath my Sonic cup and the situation was immediately contained. I glanced back at my cool seat mate to thank her. She winked knowingly. “Those things are really handy,” she said, “For lots of reasons.”
I agreed and made a note to myself to Remember The Barf Bags. As we headed down the plane aisle I glanced back at my seatmate. She was reading as she walked in line out the door.
“She must have been flying for TWENTY years,” I thought with admiration. I saluted her in my head while gripping my barf bag and headed into the airport.
~~
Editor’s Update: 12/7/2010 – make sure and check out our Barf Bag “Throwdown” follow up post written later this fall.
School legend buzz passed down from varsity level big brothers or sisters to elementary siblings is a powerful thing. By the time the eldest child in a family gets through their K-12 education, the rest know what to expect. And regardless if the information is exact or not, it still helps. It helps the younger children set their expectations. They learn a person can actually survive high school regardless of their fear of the unknown. They learn about the teachers, the environment, the traditions, the rivalries and the territory.
And in complementary fashion, the school learns about the students. The staff learns the younger siblings are “connected” to former students of earlier years. The faculty get to know the parents, the family style, the support structures and unique characteristics. They gain an understanding of a given family legacy.
If a multiple sibling lineage isn’t in place, however, traditional school buzz is still passed along. Sometimes parents of single children share stories. Neighborhood children have “teaching” times where they fill in the new kid on the block regarding the school scoop. And sometimes, the teachers even fill this role themselves. They might share with a new group of students “what was done before,” or examples of “prior rituals or ideas from former years.” In other words – an educational culture is developed and propitiated by those who manage it, who progress through it, and who contribute to its support.
Group trekking across the open praire, pulling their handcarts as they go
But educational cultures don’t just happen in schools. They develop within families themselves, extra-curricular venues, and within spiritual formal or activity-based settings. We’ll call this type of education a “naturally occurring” learning system: a system that has been in place for a period of time, that’s accepted by a group or society and is expected based upon precedent.
Naturally occurring lessons are a comfortable and “natural” way to learn about life…and in this post, lifetime relationships.
Such is the case with the Hand Cart Trail excursions planned, managed, populated and supported by families and teens within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Or, as the members of the culture refer to themselves: The “LDS.” The history, traditions, rituals and legacies woven into the fabric of these Hand Cart Trails encompasses many educational threads.
These teens were given a baby to protect as they navigated the trails
Another essay could be written about character qualities such as determination, planning or leadership. However, this one is about relationship education for the participating LDS teens.
These Hand Cart Trails provide a three day “workshop” for much of what is needed to prepare for intimate partnerships in the future of those who make the trek. One location for these journeys taking place is right here in northeastern Oklahoma…on an 80,000 acre Pawhuska ranch owned by the Sooner Cattle Company.
History of the Hand Cart Trails
People of the Mormon faith used handcarts to move their belongings and supplies across the U.S. in the mid 1800s as they made their journey toward Salt Lake City. There were many hardships, joys and challenges experienced along these treks. As part of a historically based “coming of age” transition into adolescence, LDS groups across the U.S. now re-enact the Handcart Treks. Included in these 3 or 4 day journeys are games, lessons and activities. However, the learning many times takes on a life of it’s own. Relationship education lessons are taught to hundreds of LDS adolescents although the concepts are never named as such.
Lessons Learned on the Trail
The open prarie terrain can get rough, and pulling the hand carts is no easy task
The learning context for these teens is hard core. One thing you’ll notice by the photos is that the participants don period dress for the journey. Although treks can take place at various times of the year, the featured excursion happened in early summer and temperatures hit the 90s…or higher. And, just as their ancestors did years ago, those involved pull the handcarts by hand across the bumpy bunches of Love and Native prairie grasses for three full days.
The terrain is rough, the wind is hot, the clothes are heavy…and a few of the lessons taken in are detailed in the following text, along with the explanation of how they are delivered:
The role of mentors – New experiences such as this particular trek can throw adolescents for a loop. Although they are equipped with the energy and the attitudes to accomplish the task before them, they have not yet covered the territory. The mothers, fathers, or community leaders accompanying them on the journey have. The proper supplies to pack, contingency planning, expectations for particular parts of the journey, and how to set the pace are all lessons the mentors have previously learned. And, as they hand over that knowledge to those who have never made the trip, they also build relationships with the teens.
As the teens learn to trust the mentors, they learn they are readily accessible resources for life wisdom beyond the open prairie. Therefore, when rough patches come along in the future, the teens will have already had a history of working with mentors – seeking out advice while navigating the bumps along the proverbial future-marriage trail.
Negotiations of Responsibilities
In order for any large operation to be successful, there is a dividing up and a negotiation of various roles and responsibilities. If someone in charge of water neglects their duties, the group suffers. If someone in charge of repairs isn’t providing regular maintenance checks on the carts and equipment, the group could later be halted until repairs are made. If the cooks aren’t prepared, then the group isn’t energized for the next leg of the trek.
Roles and responsibilities are one of the twelve core areas marriage preparatory education should cover (Olsen & Olsen-Sigg, 2000). Practicing under the big sky…and being successful…lays the groundwork for future hope of success.
Fun and Friendship
One of the major components of the Prevention and Relationship Enhancement Program (PREP) is a lesson entitled “Fun and Friendship” (Stanley, Markman & Jenkins, 2004). So how did this particular group experience a little fun on the grueling, sweltering trail? Well, it so happens that they came upon a river just about the time they felt they couldn’t go any further.
A young pioneer rests in the shade after cooling off in the river
If you know anything about teens on a hot day with a water source around, you know what happened next. Was this supported by the mentors? Absolutely. They joined in as well.
Will they teens remember this? Absolutely. Will they remember that they adults joined in the fun? I’m not sure, but their instincts may remember. At some point when things get tough in their future marriages and they see a “river” ahead, instinctively taking the option to jump in could be enough to kick-start their relationship with relief and renewal. Resting together doesn’t hurt either.
Empathetic Response Toward Each Other
One of the most intense and “grown up” lessons learned on the trail took place as a surprise to the members who were on their first trek. As happens in traditional “ropes courses” during a team building exercise, there are certain elements that have a high level of difficulty. The trail was no different.
About half-way through day two, the group encountered an exceptionally steep drop of approximately 75-100 feet down the face of a ridge in order to continue on their journey. And…they there was an equal rise to go back up on the other side…to get through the entire area and back onto the trail.
It took all the energy, ingenuity and resourcefulness the group could muster to move the entire cart train down the face and back up again. They struggled, problem solved and stopped to rest when they could balance the carts in a safe place…all the while facing the reality that if someone slipped or stumbled, it could impact many others in front or behind them.
Cavalry commissioning males into the Morman Battalion. Yes, the guy looks like Wilford Brimley.
As the last of the group pulled up and over the second ridge, they were met by soldiers dressed in Cavalry uniforms. It was quiet on the prairie as the sweating and exhausted pioneers waited to see what was going to happen. The answer was unexpected, as was the next set of instructions.
The leader of the Cavalry told the group that all the men must go with them immediately – that they had been called into service and they needed to report right away. With hardly time to say goodbye, they were urged to leave “at once.”
Receiving instructions at the point the Cavalry met the group.
Even worse, the women were instructed that they couldn’t keep the cart train in the high place they were currently positioned. They would have to turn around and cover the exact terrain they had just navigated without the men.
A description provided by one of the fathers on the trail filled in details of what emotions the young men began experiencing at that point. His daughter filled in the gaps with the perspective of the women left behind…
From the men’s perspective: They knew how difficult the journey had just been for the entire group. Their thoughts immediately turned toward their female counterparts. They worried about them taking the entire train back up and down the ridge. They worried about how they would manage the tasks they had been assigned. They worried about their safety. It was difficult for them to think about their own responsibilities – to protect their territory and hold their commissioned position, when they knew that their counterparts had just taken on twice the load as they had before the change in plans.
Their empathetic response toward those they had befriended on the trail was nurtured. And, they were able to talk about their struggles with the older mentors who were at their side.
From the female’s perspective: Although the Cavalry commission was “pretend,” the females experienced at least a portion of what it might be like to say goodbye to a partner who might not return – who was leaving on a call of duty and may face danger or challenges unknown. It wasn’t real, but they could imagine what it must feel like for their male counterparts to face life-threatening work. Again – the empathetic responses toward those they had befriended on the trail was nurtured. And, they were able to talk about their struggles with the older female mentors who were at their side.
The women also experienced overwhelming feelings of not being able to accomplish their challenge at hand. When they watched half their group leave, and arguably the physically stronger half, the situation seemed daunting – maybe impossible.
Women pulling carts back up the ridge to safety.
At this point, the oldest female on the trail rallied the troupes. She gave them what was basically a vigorous pep talk. She said, “Well ladies – come on! We know what we have to do, so let’s get to it. We can do this…I know we can. YOU can do this!” To look upon a mentor three or even four times their age and see the confidence conveyed was evidently a powerful thing for the young women.
They figured out what they needed to do, they reassigned responsibilities, they grabbed the handcarts…and with every ounce of strength left in their bodies they returned the entire train to a safer place for camp.
Summary
Naturally occurring family life education happens every day. The Hand Cart Treks provide three challenging days full of memorable experiences that include all the lessons detailed here, and many more.
This article isn’t a scientific analysis of the efficacy of naturally occurring relationship education. It is, however, an illustration of one of the many ways this phenomenon happens. And, as many varieties there are of groups and cultures that exist, there are ways in which this education can be delivered. So my question for you is this: Where in your own community can you help instill or enhance life changing relationship education for the adolescents in your life?
If you come to an answer, then I encourage you to rally the troupes, make the plans, negotiate the roles and set out on the trail to make it happen. You never know when you’ll meet a river, or be called into duty during your adventure.
Tuesday, 8:35 a.m., she opens her e-mail and reads that, “…tomorrow, June 6, 2012 [is] INTEGRIS Thunder Spirit Day!” She notices her place of employment used not one, but TWO exclamation marks in an official “wear Thunder clothes to work tomorrow” message. She’s now certain that a good portion of her brain will be completely preoccupied by the impending Oklahoma City Thunder-San Antonio Spurs GAME 6 for every remaining second of the day.
11:30 p.m. that evening, she rolls over to stare at the alarm clock and groans. “Uhhhnnnnnhhh!” she thinks to herself, “I was right! C’mon brain, shut it off. You’ve got to rest up and save your energy for TOMORROW, the real and actual bona fide game day. Ugh.” Five minutes later, she starts thinking over again the problem of which “Thunder Wear” she’ll don for work tomorrow. Would it be her official NBA Kevin Durant Jersey? Or should she go casual and wear her “Thunder U” tee? She rolls over to stare at the alarm clock again and it’s 11:48. The last cognition she can recall had all periods between the words: “Must. Stop. Thinking….Cripes.”
Wednesday morning, 9:40 a.m. She has already explained to two people what “Thunder U” means and why her t-shirt IS indeed an appropriate choice for the day. As she whisks into her office to grab her massive “Thunder Power Flowers” she stops dead in her tracks, her gaze focusing on the weather outside her large picture window. Was that….thunder she heard? What!? Rain was pouring down the windows and the question in her head was answered with a second roll of thunder, louder this time and immediately influencing a ridiculously large smile across her face. Yes. It was an omen.
Wednesday afternoon, she strolls the halls to find someone, anyone, who will prognosticate about tonight’s game. She finds at least three people who help relieve her anxiety for a full four minutes.
Wednesday evening, 5:15 p.m. she calls her husband to carefully plan the food they will consume during the game. She pulls into Ted’s Cafe Escondido parking lot thirty minutes later to pick up a “set up” (salsa, cheese dip, chips and tortillas) to accompany the chicken fajitas and guacamole her husband was preparing at home. She was third in line at the “To Go” counter and realized her idea was also replicated by no fewer than the two others in line, one person calling in an order on the phone, and three people sitting in chairs staring menacingly at those who had actually planned to call ahead. Ted’s Set Ups were going like hot cakes…it seemed as if the whole world needed Mexican food to survive the game – now only two hours and fifteen minutes away. As she left the restaurant, she decided not to ruin the good karma for the Thunder by smiling triumphantly and holding up HER set up in front of those still waiting on theirs.
6:30 p.m. She and her husband are still in the kitchen, running around as if they were just learning to cook. They’re beyond distracted with the pre-game shows, the tension building up in their guts, and the fact that they had to have everything completely perfect so that every single brain cell could focus on the game once it started. They COULD NOT leave something undone in the food, pet care, plant watering and general chores department….it would be impossible to perform these tasks during the commercials. If someone had peeked in the window to observe, there might very well have been little blurs of people appearing to be moving in “fast forward” mode. GAME TIME was almost here!
We had a gift waiting for us six months after we built our home. I’m so glad I discovered it serendipitously. To have known about the magnetic call of our back yard whippoorwill before the bird revealed itself would have been less magical and made the first time we heard the sound expected. The way our whippoorwill revealed itself, however, was to become the difference in an evening chorus of tree frogs and lingering day songs from the birds who were almost done for the evening.
When the human brains register a “difference,” the first notion is to test the new feedback out. “Did you hear that?” I asked Mick as we worked in the last hint of light, raking up twigs in our back yard?
“What? No, I didn’t hear anything,” he replied.
I heard it again, ever so slightly more pronounced. “THAT,” I said. “That sound. It’s a bird call I’ve not heard before.”
When rakes stop scratching and attention is completely directed toward the collection of incoming sounds, then the world changes. Here is exactly the sound we heard together after pausing that evening:
And, we are blessed to hear it every Spring around this time. All told, I’ve enjoyed eight years on our back porch listening to the call of the whippoorwill end the day. He comes into auditory range when it reaches the bottom of our hill around the creek. The beautiful sound grows more pronounced as the bird gradually moves along the treeline up the hill, passes across our back yard, and then continues on its path until it is out of range for our ears as it crests the top of the hill.
The process, in some ways, is like a one-hour long doppler effect. Barely there, and heard at different wavelengths than when in immediate proximity, then changing again as it goes away. The sound is beautiful, but the bird is by and large elusive. It stops singing if you approach the area where it rests. After all, WE are not the mate it is looking for.
But when she responds, and they mate somewhere outside the range of our eyes or ears, the result is one or two eggs that will eventually hatch into more birds with hauntingly beautiful voices. The sound is so powerful that some Native American lore states that when people die, the whippoorwill catches the soul as it leaves their body. Continue reading Lessons From The Whippoorwill→
We have a gender problem in Oklahoma. And when I write “gender,” I also mean sex. Sex in that there are some male/female balance issues. But gender, in terms of societal and identified population self-defined roles.
Okay, the majority of these problems exist no only here but across the United States. The lack of answers, however, don’t effect me as much as they do locally. So, I figure…start here, and work outward. It’s always easier to change yourself than it is to change someone who lives 2,000 miles away.
The reason the Red Dirt Chronicles was created was to highlight various aspects of Oklahoma culture, and to share the ideas and work of authors who are Oklahoman. But we have problems in Oklahoma just like any state and one of the most notable to me, right now, right here, is our lack of female legislators. And, our lack of male human service employees.
First, the legislative problem. Although we now have a state that is well over the ten percent mark (and some would argue hovers around the 15% mark) in Hispanic populations, our legislative body not representative of this fact. Other ethnicities (Black, Asian, American Indian, etc.) are equally under-represented. However, our Oklahoma population is roughly half female, but we only have (according to an interactive map deployed in 2009) 13% female legislators. So, if you calculate the disparity in percentages, women are quite possibly the most underrepresented demographic of all. Want to know more? Read this.
I’m not going to write an argument about what a greater percentage of women could add to our state management, lawmaking and problem-solving process. I think you know the answer to that if you just sit down and give it some thought. I’m just pointing this out because if one person who reads this considers having a discussion of how to get more women into our governing body, then the deployment of this post was successful.
But the lack of women legislators isn’t the only gender problem in Oklahoma. There are many more and I will probably write about others in the future. Today, however, I want to point out the lack of men in the human and social services careers. I just completed an eight year career training Child and Family Services students for their professional lives. I coordinated approximately 100 interns per year (800 total) who went into the field of non-profit work, social services work, family life education, etc. Of my one-hundred students, I generally had between two and four men per year. The rest – a full 95-96% were women.
These facts are undisputed and cannot be changed.
So, ladies: Please think about entering public service by running for House and Senate seats in the State Legislative body. Men, please consider working “with the people” who need help to find ways to help themselves. A better balance creates better environments, better solutions, and better perspectives.
The last time I heard a poem about the Osage, I cried. The last time I heard a story passed to me by an Osage grandmother, I marveled at the power of history and meaning. The last time I stood in the oldest tribally-owned museum in Pawhuska, I was full on Indian Tacos and humbled by the art and history.
This Saturday, you can learn about the Osage heritage and culture by attending something very special. Read about it here…and let us know if you go, okay? ~ RDK
Pawhuska, Okla. – The Osage Tribal Museum, Library & Archives, the oldest tribally-owned museum in the country, will commemorate the unveiling of the final Osage bust of THE OSAGE TEN on Saturday, April 28, 2012 at 10:00 a.m. at the Constantine Theatre , 110 W. Main, in Pawhuska, Oklahoma.
Among the distinguished guests are former Osage Principal Chief George Tallchief; former Osage Principal Chief Charles Tillman; former Osage Principal Chief James Gray; renowned Osage poet, Carter Revard, Ph.D., who has created a poem, especially for this occasion; David Hunt, Ph.D., of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., as well as representatives from many American Indian tribes and nations.
The creation of The Osage Ten began over 100 years ago in Pawhuska when molds and pictures were made of ten live models from the Osage Tribe and cast into full-size plaster busts by Smithsonian Institution’s Department of Natural History. The Smithsonian created this collection to be displayed at the California-Panama Canal Exposition in 1915-16 as part of “The Evolution of Man” exhibit. Millions of people from around the world attended this historical event.
During the past seven years, the Osage Tribal Museum has been collaborating with the Smithsonian in obtaining replicas of The Osage Ten to be permanently displayed at the museum. This exhibit collection will bring to life again these Osage tribal members and, in a sense, bring them home to be honored and remembered of an era long ago.
Descendants of Albert Penn, the first replica bust to be unveiled in 2005, retrieved and donated their ancestors bust to the Osage Tribal Museum . The other busts that have been donated in the past six years are: Shun-kah-mo-lah, Charles McDougan, Wah-To-Ke-Ah (William Fletcher), Henry Pratt, Ah-Hu-Shin-Kah (Little Wing), Che-Sho-Wah-Ke-Pah (Fidelis Cole), Wa-Xthi-Zhi (Charles Wah-Hre-She), and Wah-Noh-She-Shin-Ki (Principal Chief Fred Lookout).
To say that I’ve become an Oklahoma City Thunder fan since we got our team four years ago would be an understatement. I follow the players on Twitter. I go to the games, listen to them on the radio or watch them on TV. I coach them from my kitchen while cooking meals.
In other words? I’ve got Thunder fever and am naming it AND claiming it. I make no apologies for being grateful for my now hometown NBA team, so yesterday this generally emotionally regulated momma lost it. During the first half of the OKC Thunder-Lakers game, World Peace (formerly known as Ron Artest) went up for a basket, came down to celebrate, and in the heat of the moment drew his arm back and knocked James Harden down with what can only be described or construed as a recently discussed bounty hit.
It was mean, it was out of control, and it really hurt Harden. So much so that although the LA team docs first thought Harden could play in the second half, they later withdrew their decision and Harden saw no more court time for the rest of the game. Now it appears that he does indeed have a concussion from the blow and may miss more than a few games.
Time will tell. Time will also tell how the NBA will deal more long term with World Peace’s actions.
But suffice it to say, this momma bear AIN’T happy. World Peace, you hurt my player. You were out of control and you hurt another person in an action that was completely avoidable. You beat on your chest, you argued that it wasn’t your fault, and it was only after the game that you showed some degree of contrition.
I’m mad at you, World Peace. You need to do better, or you need to stay off the court.
There are a couple of things I’ve noticed about social media.
First, I really am influenced by messages I receive throughout the week about what I might want to buy for cooking meals, where I might wish to plan my next trip, or how I decide to choose spend some of my discretionary funds to purchase a book for upcoming summer reading.
For example, this week I saw that Stilwell Strawberries had just been received at the Urban Agrarian, I “Tweeted” them a question asking if they would be bringing some to the Edmond Farmer’s Market opening day, and received this reply back: “Absolutely.” Immediately, I began planning what to cook for my family on Sunday night, but more so, I COULD begin that planning because of the social tools we now use today. I had heard a “rally cry” that began in the eastern Oklahoma strawberry fields and had been carried through the central OKC relay system, with the end result landing on my kitchen table.
Second, because of social media, the producers in Oklahoma have become personal to me. I’ve intentionally shifted my food budget from approximately 10-15% local purchases two years ago, to approximately 50% or more local purchases today. Every month when I read the Oklahoma Food Cooperative‘s “Producer Notes” I get to hear what is going on at the farm/ranch level. I get to learn how it is that I have new product choices or why it is that certain weather or economic factors influence what I choose for a particular month.
I can plan my own garden because I know I’m more or less likely to get certain crops at the market every year at pretty decent prices, therefore I plant to harvest what I know will help me save money and I have the best chance of growing successfully….and that complements what I can already get through our local food distributions systems here in the state. I can ask questions about certain products or swap recipes (or send photographs of the final products!) to my connections on Facebook and Twitter which then helps all of us gain more ideas about how to manage and balance our food purchases and inventory.
In other words, just two years after I started building a social media network comprised of locally focused resources that interest me, I feel more informed and competent about running my own household and my own life here in central Oklahoma. And, I have a much greater sense of connection to those in Oklahoma who are producing healthy, local food. And finally, I count myself in that bunch to a degree because I really enjoy the goodness I get from my garden in so many ways.
I’m writing this post because I’ve recently received a few messages from people who feel “inadequate” in terms of growing gardens or cooking locally. The majority of these notes were from people younger than I who expressed self-doubts about whether or not they could “grow anything.” Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Everyone Begins Somewhere→
The first official day of Spring Break was almost over, as was the rain that had been pouring down all day long. So much had come from the clouds in so little time I almost called and cancelled dinner plans. The plans, you see, included some navigation on an Oklahoma dirt road to reach my destination and I wasn’t sure my little white Jetta was up for the slide-and-react task left by gully washers.
But late that afternoon, the hostess for our evening sent out a message: “the roads drain well, so dinner is still on.” The note was all the encouragement I needed. I needed to de-stress from a busy semester, I already had a reservation for that night at Roman Nose, and I wanted to meet this particular group of young farmers who were coming together to see the completed Base Vines and Cattle Schoolhouse in Geary, OK.
To say Aaron and Jennifer Base have sweat equity in their newly restored eighty year-old, one-room Schoolhouse is an understatement. They’ve infused every piece of lumber, all the nails, the foundation blocks and gallons of paint with love and hours of work.
Pea shoots cut in the evening sun. Everything is so green...
We’ve been sent a mixed blessing from the weather gods here in Oklahoma. On the one hand, we’ve received a wonderful Spring rainfall and our state is green. The vegetables in my garden are green. The trees, the wheat and the landscape…all green. It’s beautiful here.
But on top of all that green, at least in some locations across the state (notably Norman and Woodward…ESPECIALLY Woodward) is now a blanketing of debris strewn about by tornadoes. And in a few cases, there are also grieving people who lost family members, including children. The losses also go past the people, however. And even if we know and understand that people are what matters, businesses, homes and a large variety of property now has to be cleaned up, rebuilt and managed.
I felt strange today. And lucky. Although I slept through the night both Friday and Saturday, and felt assured that we had warning systems in place as well as a storm shelter buried into our garage floor, many Oklahomans didn’t. People are tired, they’re sad, and they’re trying to help manage their lives as well as figure out how to help those in need.
I was thinking through these various thoughts as I went to one of two patches of peas I’m growing. One I’ve grown simply to use the shoots and that’s what I’m going to share with you today. The other, I’ll let grow to fruition and enjoy peas in a few weeks.
Pea shoots, cut early and properly, are an incredible addition to a healthy and balanced meal plan. There are literally endless ways to eat this beautiful plant that tastes just like the mild side of English peas. A Chinese graduate student was visiting our home Wednesday night and he said the people in his village ate them all the time, stir fried along with other vegetables. But you can also use them fresh in salads, on sandwiches as a lettuce substitute, cream them into a beautiful coulis, or in so many other ways.
I urge you to check out this website for all you ever wanted to know about pea shoots, recipes, and beautiful photos of the possibilities. And, if you’d like, you can grow them inside your home by a window like people grow bean sprouts or wheat grass.
Note: I didn’t write on Easter, but I did collect photos and cook on Saturday night. I’ll have a NEW MLVG post up later today. I may write on my lunch hour since I’m excited to share the deliciousness of our local goodness very soon. In the meantime, I’m sharing this “blackberry” post from last year. I have a feeling our Oklahoma berry vines will be producing a little early this year, so it’s already time to think about how you might enjoy their goodness. If you’ve not yet tried “pick your own” at Sorghum Mill, I definitely recommend them. They have a lovely operation. Thanks, RDK
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(Originally published May 31, 2011): Normally we Okies can anticipate berry season by thinking: Mother’s Day – strawberries; Memorial Day weekend – time for blackberries, raspberries and blueberries. However, I mentioned last week that this year brought a cruel weather pattern. Berry farmers are still suffering the consequences of an extended Fall/Spring drought as well as three or four dips during the winter to temperatures at ten below zero.
The owner of Sorghum Mill Christmas Tree and Blackberry Farm particularly noted the cold weather for what they’re seeing now: the freeze may have damaged the ability for the normal flow of water and nutrients to feed their bushes. The berries are simply not themselves this year. Nor are the berries nearly as abundant.
I stopped by to check on Sorghum Mill Farms Memorial Day afternoon. She and I talked a bit on the porch and she allowed me an early peek into the harvest, although she said they would be ready for the public in about two weeks. She was right. Normally, their berries are (seriously) approximately 1.5 to even 2″ long. They’re monstrous. But not this year. And it appears that what berries they have are not only about half the normal size, but are much more sparse. Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Local Raspberries and Blackberries Do Their Vines Proud→
Showcasing Red Dirt culture ~ authored and managed by contributors with connections to the great state of Oklahoma.
