All posts by Red Dirt Kelly

Family, Relationships

To the Father of Hannah, Who Posted the FB Note: “To My Parents”

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Last night an acquaintance of mine posted this video on his Facebook page.  He had retrieved it from Reddit and was heralding the dad’s actions.  Then another acquaintance of mine chimed in and sent a rally cry through her post in favor of the dad as well.

Then I watched that video which was cheered on by two of my Facebook connections…and was filled up with an overabundance of sobering thoughts, one of which was, “Okay, this puppy is going viral I’ll bet.  It will be in the headlines tomorrow.”

And it was.  On the front page of Yahoo’s news stories, the disappointed father of Hannah was featured with a story detailing the contents of the video.  I was still processing quite a few aspects of the particular situation when I ate lunch with two of my colleagues, both of whom were male, both of whom own guns, both of whom were family scientists (one’s research specialization area is adolescents and family) and who both had an opinion about the video.

They liked the idea of a father using the same medium as the daughter to communicate a message to her.  They did not agree with the father’s tactics of sarcasm, one-uppance, shooting the laptop with eight rounds from him and “one from the mother.”  Then the subject changed, and I continued to process the situation through this evening.

So tonight I’m ready to write to the father of Hannah who posted the “To My Parents” note on her Facebook. I’m done with my processing, but I’m sure he’s not close to being done…and I’m thinking about their family.

Here is my letter to you, dad…

Dear father of Hannah:

I watched the video you posted for others to see and thought about you, your wife and Hannah today.  I talked to some friends about your struggle and I read a couple of newspaper articles covering the “news” of your video getting widespread attention.

I would imagine that things are really weird around your house right now.  You’re probably getting quite a few media calls, Hannah is probably getting quite a few media calls too, and I would imagine that your life changed more than you could have imagined since last night.  That’s a big consequence for the decision to make and post your video response to Hannah.  I hope you all are okay through the hulabaloo, because after it dies down you all will have some healing to do. 

How do I know that?  Because of what you wrote, not because of what you said on your video.  Here’s what I’m referring to in case the message is a little lost in all this chaos:

“Today was probably the most disappointing day of my life as a father and I don’t know how to correct the situation.”

Coming from a father who just shot his daughter’s laptop with nine rounds from his .45 caliber handgun, that’s a really open, honest, vulnerable and very real statement.  In an odd way, I’ll bet Hannah could write a good portion of that message as well.  She may not know how to correct the situation either. Continue reading To the Father of Hannah, Who Posted the FB Note: “To My Parents” →

Relationships

Preserve, Protect and Defend: A Credo for Our Intimate Relationships

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John F. Kennedy said it during his swearing in ceremony almost three years before I was born.

Lyndon B Johnson said it after Kennedy died, and again in 1965 with Lady Bird at his side. Her solemn face only allowing a smile after the final word of the oath of office was completed.

Nixon was next, with Pat slightly raising her chin when he said three special words;  followed by Ford then  Carter.  They all said it in their own style, with their own emphasis and punctuation. Slow and steady, with a very Southern flair, or with their best resolve.

Reagan said it  twice while nodding with determination as only he could do; his second round was more subdued and solemn than the first. Then Bush the Elder, and Clinton twice, his first oath completed with a slight grin and classic tightening of his lower lip, the second completed much like Reagan’s second – more subdued and solemn.  Bush the younger twice (interestingly, with the same pace and energy level as the first time) and finally Obama.  Obama’s oath of office was interesting in that there was more than the usual level of cheering from the crowd, Obama smiled a little more than most presidents preparing for the oath of office, and he and the Chief Justice had to repeat a few words in order to get things straight.

But every one of these presidents, and all those before the ones I’ve listed here, took the oath of office on inauguration day, and they all said this:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.

Many of them ended their oath with, “…so help me, God.”  And, all of them could have certainly used the help of a Higher Power to manage their work.  But one of the strongest portions of all the videos I’ve reviewed was that of each president stating that they would “preserve, protect and defend” the Constitution of the United States.

In other words, the elected leader of the U.S. swears to preserve, protect and defend the supreme law of our country…in front of God and everybody.  It’s a very public oath for a very serious job.

Many of those reading this post today will have taken a very public oath for a very serious job of their own – their wedding vows, pledged to their partner in front of God and everybody.  And I’ve been wondering about something.  We know that traditionally couples affirm phrases to each other such as:

I take you to be my wedded wife/husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish ’till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.

In other words, they have pledged their faithfulness to “the supreme relationship status” in our country.  But I wonder, would vows be measured and stated any differently if the phrase, “to preserve, protect and defend” were to be included? Continue reading Preserve, Protect and Defend: A Credo for Our Intimate Relationships →

Faith

Always the More Beautiful Answer Who Asks the More Beautiful Question

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There is a gentleman in this world who some say is a shaman.

Some people say he uses coyote tricks for his own purposes in our culture that he picked up in other lands.

Some say he’s the son of a Baptist preacher, therefore his perspective of faith is understandable.

Others say, only because he studied healing cultures in other lands did he come to the faith treasured by his family of origin.

He’s recounted things I can’t imagine. I sat in the audience one day where he was sharing metaphysical secrets of Eastern mysticism he had been granted after being anointed as someone special.

He detailed a story where he visited an indigenous culture in a remote African area only to hear that the tribe received visions while around a fire. They told of a rope descending from heaven, a man in white descending the rope and delivering the message to all who were around the fire that there was One God who had One Son who came to save the world…and that they should have joy because of this news

It’s no wonder that one of his many books is entitled, “The Bushman Way of Tracking God: The Original Spirituality of the Kalahari People.”  He’s a psychotherapist, an ethnographer and a cybernatician.

In other words, Bradford P. Keeney is an interesting character.

And, today after a long week of work, and a long day of faculty meetings, I retreated to my office.  I began to search the collection of books on my shelves and finally found what I was looking for.  I needed to read a bit of Keeney because I was struggling with a way to help influence change in a stuck system.  Finally, on the fourth shelf I checked, lodged between “The Kite Runner” and “Primal Leaders,” I found it:  Aesthetics of Change, by Bradford P. Keeney, 1983.

Yes, I was in need of some coyote tricks, and I knew just the writer to help me.

So I opened the volume, but I never got past the preamble of pages that come before the text.  I had what I needed and I never read a word he wrote.  There on a blank page, resting high center were two quotes.  The first was by Jorge Luis Borges and read, “I leave to the various futures (not to all) my garden of forking paths.”

Okay, THAT quote was filed in the safety deposit box of my right brain and flagged for follow up.  I wasn’t ready to talk about gardens.  I needed to talk about people…who can be gardens, but who were not currently considered that way in my present state of mind.

The second quote was by e.e. cummings and stopped me short: “Always the more beautiful answer who asks the more beautiful question.”

When my brain reads grammar that doesn’t come easily, it goes into a loop.  And that’s what happened with cummings’ words.  I read the quote thrice more.  Then I decided I needed to study the nature of questions, answers, people and beauty…so I began to do research.

And when I found the following excerpt I quit looking.  Some beautiful soul had done thinking long before me about questions and answers and come up with enough thoughts to shift my focus from change that needed to take place in others…to the more relevant “change that needs to take place in me.” Continue reading Always the More Beautiful Answer Who Asks the More Beautiful Question →

Oklahoma Outdoors

Big Sky = Big Medicine. Really Big Medicine.

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The morning passed with fury. Meetings in Oklahoma City were followed by a drive to my campus 65 miles from point A toward…meetings in Stillwater, point B.  Concerns and mid-semester blusters stirred the pot of our academic soup du jour; the odor wafting from this churning fare was neither inviting to the students nor the faculty. “It’s what we’ll eat, because we must,” They collectively agreed through classes commencing and adjourning, research haltingly progressing, activities completed for reasons no one easily articulates.

The day progressed, the halls grew quieter, the chatter in the air sputtered and eventually silenced, punctuated with only an occasional interjection as my building cleared and light switches were pushed into the downward position. The College breathed a sigh of relief as those with beating hearts left their work for another day; its windows watched as the academics filed into the parking lot, engaged their various modes of transportation and headed toward the next segment of Life.

My one-hour drive home was not yet halfway complete when I realized the pain coming from my hands was due to my death grip on the steering wheel.  My white knuckles shined like eight surrender flags to my bloodshot eyes, sending a signal that had taken twenty-four miles to reach my brain.  The channels between my hands and brain were too clogged with traffic jams of Outlook calendars, publications, advisees and search committees to become aware of the beacons being sent over and over: “Stop. Stop. Please. Stop. Stop. Please. I mean it. I said Please.”

My myopic, rigid and focused view of the road ahead of me slowly dilated until it reached the width of my windshield.  Once expanded, my view shifted toward more of what lie ahead of me than simply the speeding asphalt and yellow or white lines.  There was, in front of me, a fragment remaining of the Day.  A remnant of what I almost missed was there for the taking because my subconscious took over my knuckles and screamed, “Hurt her. She’s not hearing my gentle voice.  Shake her. Please. I mean it.”

Beyond the windshield, through the shatterproof glass, past the pale of the Way Home lie a Holy Place.  I pulled my car over, compelled to find it.  The shoulder wasn’t far enough from the Way Home.  I pulled off the road until all four wheels rested on the dead grass and damp earth, pushed the gearshift toward Park, breathed out and turned off the ignition.  I heard…nothing.  I felt…tension. I needed…space.

I exited my car, white knuckles helping the death grip of my keys remain secure.  I headed toward a hill adjacent to a pastureland which was adjacent to my Space.  Black high heeled boots and soft earth wrestled during my ascent but I didn’t know it.  My brain was focused on the need for space.  The need for…this:

 

Cresting the hill, my body sunk into the ground, my knees taking a crossed position under my rayon plum suit.  The course dead grass stabbed through the rayon and my skin fought back. Continue reading Big Sky = Big Medicine. Really Big Medicine. →

Politics

“What the Debates Say About America” and How I Respond as an American

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Dallas Caldwell, one of our contributors at the Red Dirt Chronicles, is my former boss. I was attending grad school when he accepted a position as the new headmaster where I was teaching. I always appreciated his ability to tell a story, but years later gained an appreciation for his ability to write and share his thoughts.

That’s why, when he writes about literature or something philosophical, I generally check it out. And tonight, I’m glad I did.

Dallas was sharing information on his Facebook about a post written by Kevin DeYoung over the presidential debates.  The quote was the full text of point number six from DeYoung’s analysis over the “13,000 Republican debates” and the public’s reaction to them.

He writes about the communication factor, the “horse race style” coverage, what American’s value in their candidates…but then negate, why negative attacks are vilified but work, the sin and values we’re willing to tolerate, and…our inconsistencies:

6. The debates over the past months, and the election in general, exposes a number of inconsistencies about Americans.

  • We want to be rich and want politicians who will promise to make us richer. But we don’t like our politicians themselves to be wealthy.
  • We want candidates to give straight answers and not dodge hard questions. But when they give specific answers to hard questions their answers will be ridiculed as dull or will be held against them.
  • We want our leaders to be super confident, super competent, and super intelligent. But we hate elites.
  • We want the president to be one of us and above us and unlike us at the same time.
  • We want someone to be an effective executive in the labyrinth of legislative, judicial, bureaucratic, military, and diplomatic tasks that face the modern President. But we also want him to be a complete outsider with no experience in how any of that works.
  • We want politicians unsullied by the real life tradeoffs, lobbyists, and interest groups of politics. But what they are like in the rest of life doesn’t really concern us. They can compromise in everything but politics.

As I worked down the bullet points a knot began to form in my stomach, then tighten, then wrench at my psyche – tugging as though it were in a man-of-war game for the core of how I consider information during a presidential campaign.

Yes, yes, yes. Check, check…cripes. Check again.

I finished the list, then did the only thing I knew to do.  I processed.  I processed this information that provided a moment of introspection by thinking it over a couple of times, sharing it with my husband and then? Sharing it with you.

Good luck with that.

Homestead and Garden

Old Cell Phone Photos: The Philbrook, Chino Bags and Repurposing Fun

The day has not been forgotten by my SIM card.

Rather, there were smiles and emotions washing over my face to be had tonight in January, waiting for me since June. My SIM card had been holding them for me all along. Passed along from my Blackberry Bold, to my PC at work, to my external hard drive, to my Mac, and somehow synchronized back into my phone, I found this:

 

My RyeDye and I went to the Philbrook Museum of Art that day and were happily surprised to find a community “recycling clothes” project.

Loaned sewing machines, recycled buttons, lace, silk screening options, and a number of other treasures lined the tables that were set up in the middle of a room big enough to generate stellar echos.

We found a pair of heavy cotton chinos or pajama pants somewhere inside a mountain of donated clothing piled on the floor. We split them in half and each took one leg to create a bag.

Rylee used recycled buttons and lace, and inverted hers so the small opening was on top, thus producing a youthful, fun bag. It was easy, breezy, and so…her.

I kept simple lines, but cut long strips and braided them together for the handles, and visited the silk screening station.  I have a habit of being all Eddie Bauer or Talbots in many of my approaches. It’s a curse. I truly just don’t know what I would do with lace.  I could never pull it off because the weirdly uncomfortable look on my face would distract passers-by so that they would hardly notice that I had attempted to add notions and accents in the “frills” category.

Back to my bag. I placed a star where we live, and the three small red stones where Hubby’s mom, my parents and Rachel, Drew and Quentin live. (fyi – Rachel = eldest child; Drew = her Hubby, Quentin = my brother).

The Philbrook is a rocking museum. The event was perfect.  But my time spent with RyeDye, side by side on our respective Burnina’s, was a beautiful moment I won’t forget.

And my SIM card, obviously, is helping with that.

***

P.S.  That photo was taken on our drive, under an oak tree.  The locusts were humming and the blotching light patterns are preciously reminiscent of that hot summer day. I feel warm just looking at it again.

P.P.S.  I posted this photo on Facebook last summer, and got a short sweet message from my father.  He wrote, “I like being a small red stone.” I grinned when I read his tender-hearted note.  Dads can be really cool sometimes.

[kelly]

 

 

Faith, Poetry, Relationships

FROM THE VAULT: A System Worked and a System Failed. How Illness Impacts our Dear Friends…and Us.

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Editor’s Note 1/30/12: Dear all…I was so pleased this weekend to read a “Caring Bridge” entry re: my friend Sammye.  To even begin to share the challenges she’s experienced since this post was written 1.5 years ago would be impossible.  If you’re interested, you can check on her entries here.  But most importantly, I read this paragraph early this morning:

“HIP HIP (left hip, not right one) HOORAY!  PET scan taken at the end of last week shows no malignancies!  Dr. Hollen is as happy as he can be and of course I was relieved, happy, grateful, prayerful, thankful, and every other positive emotion one can think of!  All is well…inside and out!  My visits with Dr. Hollen will continue every three months with scans every six months.  The hip (right one) is still no fun but I’m getting around and focusing on all the things I can do, rather than the things that are still tough.  I’ve lost weight and as more comes off (sounds easy, huh?) I am sure that the hip will show even more appreciation! “

This post was well-read 18 months ago, so I’m sharing it again “from the vault” to remind us that personal things…even haircuts…have histories much bigger than just a word. Love, RDK

***

Editor’s Note:  We have two “impact of illness” perspectives to share with you this morning.

♥  One comes from Sammye Cravens, CFO-COO of Public Strategies, Inc. in Oklahoma City.  On June 4, 2009, she was diagnosed with Malignant Lymphoma, Diffuse Large B-Cell Type.  She used a wonderful tool called CaringBridge.org to communicate with her friends, family and supporters. What a day of celebration there was when her body said “yes” to the treatment and she got through every step of the process.  She has opened her journal, now, to the public and recently wrote an essay on the “chronology of her hair” to share with the community.

As we know, hair can be a fairly precarious concept when getting through cancer treatment. I hope you are endeared by Sammye’s history of hair.  I know I was.

♥  The second came in my mailbox at home, and now I’m sharing it with you.  Holly Foote grew up in Oklahoma and attended my church until she graduated from high school.  She earned her Masters in Nutrition at Columbia University and recently finished medical school at Touro College; she’s now wearing a white coat.  Her best friend Amy, also one of our former “church kids,” contracted Type I diabetes when she was only nine.  She died in May of 2009 and the events surrounding that tragedy were medically incoherent.

You can read about the “broken system” that misdiagnosed and mistreated Amy in Holly’s blog entry, “Failing Heart.” The card I received explains a bit about her grief experience and was a way to touch back those who had tried to reach out to her during her difficult time.

I thank both Sammye and Holly for sharing their funny and/or vulnerable real lives with their friends, and for giving permission to post their thoughts here at the RDC.

Sincerely, Red Dirt Kelly

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

TOO MUCH TIME ON MY HAIR

by Sammye Cravens Continue reading FROM THE VAULT: A System Worked and a System Failed. How Illness Impacts our Dear Friends…and Us. →

Favorite Things

Friday 5 O’Clock Funnies: Why I’m Going to Die Someday Known as “The Googley Eyes Lady”

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You know one right? Someone in your community or circle of friends who is known by the things over which they obsess?

Say for instance…my daughter’s kindergarten teacher. She is known as “The Cow Lady.” Her room is covered in things painted in black and white splotches. Jersey cows show up on her clothes, on her desk in ceramic form, and on her stationary she uses to send notes home to parents.

Or, perhaps you know a “John Deere Tractor guy.” My grandfather became one of these people. He purchased a couple of collector renditions in John Deere yellow and green, and before he knew it THAT was the THING that people gravitated toward when buying him gifts.

When we cleaned out his garage after he died I knew things were out of control. There were John Deere clocks still in their package. John Deere miniatures still in their boxes. A John Deere combination thermometer and barometer hung on his garage wall.

So, you know one right? Well, you may know another very soon…and it may be me!

For some strange reason, I think I’m becoming “The Googley Eyes” lady. True story.

I think it all started with the Weepuls. Weeples? Pom Poms…right?

In the 70s they were yellow and emulated the Yellow Smiley Face “Have a Good Day” craze. In the 80s, they turned red, white and blue and held little flags. Some had antennae, and some had sunglasses. But they ALL had ridiculous tacky feet to stick on any surface, and…googley eyes!

The foot residue is probably still on high school lockers installed in the 80s to this day. It’s probably carcinogenic and eats young children when no one looks.

But the googley eyes? Ah, they’re actually kind of funny. They wiggle when you tap them and if you take them off the Wepuls-Weeples-Pom-Poms you can stick them on other things and make your friends laugh.

I used to HATE Weeples, but love the googley eyes. And THAT, ladies and gentleman, is where my downfall began.

Flash forward thirty years.

One night I’m sitting in my living room watching Saturday Night Live.  I’m more than a little excited because their guest star is Christopher Walken.  Everything he does on SNL is funny to me.  He stares straight at the cue cards, he has ONE tempo, ONE voice, and ONE approach and he cracks me totally up.  But my Walken fandom meter rose even higher after I witnessed this: Continue reading Friday 5 O’Clock Funnies: Why I’m Going to Die Someday Known as “The Googley Eyes Lady” →

Oklahoma Horizon TV

On the Horizon: Not a Boy’s Game Anymore

The field of engineering is typically dominated by men, but thanks to an innovative program young women are realizing their love for engineering early.  FIRST Robotics is a competition with the enthusiasm and energy of a college football game.  Students have six weeks to design a robot that can complete a number of tasks and this year, I spent the evening talking to with two girls who have big engineering dreams.

In this week’s video blog, I visit Francis Tuttle Technology Center, with one of the most prestigious FIRST Robotics teams, as they begin their journey.
~Courtenay Dehoff

Oklahoma culture

If the eastern redcedar Were a Disease, the CDC Would Quarantine Oklahoma

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I had been talking with John Weir, range management and prescribed burn specialist of Oklahoma State University for a while when I asked this question:

“So, what exactly is the proper way to spell Eastern Redcedar?  Do I capitalize both words or what?”

He answered in a way I hadn’t expected:

“No. Neither.  You capitalize neither word.  We in the forestry and range ecology areas don’t give it the respect of capital letters.”

I laughed, but then confirmed with him that indeed, you really DON’T capitalize the tree’s name.  Although his answer was delivered in a dryly humorous way, he was also serious.  To capitalize the species name would mean that there would be some hierarchical value placed in the invasive juniper species (Juniperus virginiana) in Oklahoma.  But by and large, right now it’s just a problem.

How bad is this problem we see along the fence lines of every thoroughfare in the state?  Well, pretty bad.  Quite possibly, epidemic.

In 2002 the OK Department of Agriculture, Food and Forestry established the “Redcedar Task Force,” charged with exploring issues surrounding the species and “developing a long-term strategy to deal with the problems created by the juniper infestation, estimated to be expanding at 762 acres per day.”  After the initial meeting, the task force concluded that “the negative impacts of juniper encroachment on our natural resources, native wildlife populations, the health of our citizens and our economic potential are unacceptable.”

The report is 32 pages long and is a fairly easy and straightforward read.  The USDA Natural Resources Conversation Service (NRCS) estimates that eight million acres in Oklahoma are currently infested with at least 50 juniper trees per acre.  The encroachment is increasing at an estimated rate of 300,000 acres per year.  Finally, (and remember, this was in 2002) they estimated that $157 million was needed to address current conservation treatments.

Wow.

Even worse? They estimated that in order to RESTORE lands already suffering from encroachment, as well as to maintain lands free of further problems, landowners will need to aggressively treat 2 to 4 million acres per year.  Economic losses from not managing juniper encroachment were projected to be $447 million by 2013.  That’s next year, right?

So, what are the facts and the urban legends surrounding this problematic juniper, and what can we do about it? Continue reading If the eastern redcedar Were a Disease, the CDC Would Quarantine Oklahoma →

Uncategorized

Thanking Our Elders for Spunk and Courage

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Healthy children will not fear life if their elders have integrity enough not to fear death. ~ Erik H. Erikson

I may be on an “elder” kick.  In yesterday’s post I was pondering amazement at a beautiful Chickasaw elder in Oklahoma who was described by my father as a “National Treasure.”  I agree.

This morning, I read a story about a spunky elder…not in Oklahoma, but in Alaska.  Her story is quite intriguing, but the point I came to after I read it was this:  Through the battle she encountered, she still had the good sense to understand the perspective of the moose she was swatting with a shovel.  

You don’t often read about acknowledgement and understanding during a battle – especially one where someone’s life could be on the line.

I’m grateful this morning for our elders.  The elders I know are mostly in Oklahoma.  Some have witnessed the U.S. being in five or more wars.  They have stories of living with nothing, stories of overcoming challenges, and a history for our children and grandchildren that is far more valuable than the iPhones they carry.  Rather, that history provides them with the knowledge and the hope that THEY can survive, that THEY can overcome, and THEY can accept challenges and come out on the other side, a better person.

I’m going to end this short post this morning by laying down a challenge to you.  Take a little time to connect with the elders in your life if you haven’t in a while.  They are our teachers for the future, and The World is our homework from those beautiful lessons.

[kelly]

This article copied directly from January 24th, 2012 – USA Today

By Bill Roth, Anchorage Daily News, via AP

An 85-year-old Alaska woman used a shovel to beat back a moose that had stomped her 82-year-old husband and then charged her, the Anchorage Daily News reports from The Last Frontier.

George Murphy, a well-known bush pilot, suffered seven broken ribs and gashes to his head and left leg. His wife, Dorothea Taylor, was unhurt in the confrontation Friday morning as they exercised their two golden retrievers at the Willow Airport.

“He was way off. Jeez, he spotted me and he started to come right after me,” Murphy said Sunday from his hospital bed (video). “So I was trying to get to the truck. But I didn’t make it.”

With no trees or other protection, Murphy dove into the deep snow. “He started to stomp. Then he turned around and stomped again. And there was nothing I could do. I was afraid he was going to kill me.” Continue reading Thanking Our Elders for Spunk and Courage →

Oklahoma culture

Code Talkers, Chickasaws and a TV Appearance

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She calls me Miss Blabby.

I played a character in a Ladie’s Tea skit in junior high and she STILL calls me by that name. And, I love it…because I love her. And right now I have a lump in my throat the size of a basketball.

Why? I just saw my dear friend on a short video for the Chickasaw Nation. She had helped with the Code Talkers project during WWII. Close to 100 years of age now, her mind is still sharp. And she was right there on my TV screen telling some of her story.

Chincie Ross Chickasaw Elder

That video is probably just two minutes long, but commands such respect.  And I’m so glad I have Chincie as a role model.

On February 13th, I’ll be making my first TV appearance on “Oklahoma Live” to talk about the Red Dirt Chronicles, some of the projects our contributors are working on, and answer questions about the blog.  I’m slightly nervous about this opportunity.

But maybe not as much as I was before I just saw Chincie.  If she can make that beautiful video over something so historic, I should at least be able to sit with a hostess and talk shop for a few minutes.

Thank you, Chincie, for showing me the way right when I needed it.

And, bless you Code Talkers, for helping our nation at such a critical time.

***

 

 

Homestead and Garden

More Precious Than Rubies…The Stones, That Is

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(Written last Saturday, the day of Nana Kay’s funeral)

This morning I realized I had a pork roast now on its fifth day in my meat drawer.   Still having snippets of last week’s “Pioneer Woman” cooking show in my head, I decided to make pulled pork. Sans the soda pop.  I cook my pork with a swagger.  In other words, I drown that sucker in beer.

Somewhere between the onions, cumin, red pepper and my bottle of Shiner Ruby Redbird, I wrestled with a moderate tinge of guilt.  I rectified the situation by confessing my sins to P-Dub over the Twitter-nets:

“I dearly love @thepioneerwoman but I cook my pulled pork in Shiner Ruby Redbird beer! #notsodapop”

I had cleansed my cooking soul and finished that beautiful dish with a bang.  Suh-weet Maui Onion, that pork was delicious.  I wanted to savor at least five more mouthfuls but my heart was turned westward, toward our dear neighbor’s house.

“Nana Kay,” my next door neighbor’s mother, died two days ago.  Their last name is Red.  Sometimes I called Nana Kay my “Ruby Red Dress” when she wore Red. I have a photo of her sitting on her red scooter, rooting for her favorite football team – the University of Oklahoma Sooners. School colors on her sweatshirt?  Red and white, of course. And, she was wearing red lipstick and rouge.  The oxygen tubes assisting her breathing were constant reminders that she wasn’t well.

I’m going to miss Nana Kay, and I’m sure my next door neighbors are heartbroken right now.

So, I decided to take them some pulled pork, cooked in Shiner Ruby REDbird beer. I searched my cabinets for a disposable container with a red lid.  I was packing up half of the pulled pork into a container for the Reds when I received a text notice.  I checked my phone.  It was P-Dub.  She had Tweeted:

“@RedDirtKelly I dearly love you too, and that’s all I have to say about that.”

Then I forgot about my cooking and got excited. Suddenly becoming  thirteen years old I sent @thepioneerwoman two more messages for good measure. Then I wrestled with a moderate tinge of guilt having just committed cyber-overkill.  Continue reading More Precious Than Rubies…The Stones, That Is →

Oklahoma culture

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears? (Entry 2)

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Last August I published a post with this title, and I think it’s about time to do it again.

Yahoo recently published an article entitled, “College Majors That Are Useless.” Protests came in the form of articles from media outlets ranging the likes of the Oklahoma Daily to the Huffington Post.

For me, of particular concern were the measures and indicators used re: important college majors to the agricultural industry.  Therefore, I’m going to reprint in full the American Society of Animal Science’s response released yesterday.

Oklahoma needs agricultural majors of all kinds.  And just so you know, Yahoo, your report really grinds my gears.

[kelly]

***

Official statement from the American Society of Animal Science Board of Directors. For immediate release – Jan. 20, 2012

Students in animal science programs learn skills that are vital in food production and animal and human health. Enrollment in animal science majors is increasing, and job opportunities for animal science majors continue to expand.

“I couldn’t disagree more with the recent comments in the media questioning the value of animal science degrees. Animal science departments across the country are nearly all experiencing not only growth but expanding placement rates of our graduates. Even during record global economic challenges, animal science majors have been in great demand,” said Dr. Margaret Benson, head of the animal science department at Washington State University and president of the American Society of Animal Science (ASAS).

Animal science is the study of farm animals, companion animals and exotic species. Animal scientists work to improve animal health and food production. Many animal scientists also focus on food safety and improving sustainability. Discoveries in animal science also increase understanding of human health, genetics and medicine.

According to Dr. Greg Lardy, professor and department head in the department of animal science at North Dakota State University, “Interest in animal science careers and enrollment in our undergraduate majors continues to expand. In fact, our enrollment is up 28 percent this year.”

Dr. Meghan Wulster-Radcliffe, CEO of ASAS, said about 90 percent of university animal science departments have seen increased enrollment in recent years. ASAS has also seen record membership, with over 5,000 academic and industry professionals currently involved in the organization. International and student membership has also grown in the organization.

“Employment opportunities for our majors include a variety of career paths, not only in traditional careers such as livestock production, but also in unique opportunities such as equine assisted therapy programs,” said Lardy.

Animal science has stayed strong during the recession. Data from the 2009-2012 American Community Survey show good news for animal scientists going into agricultural production. In 2009-2012, unemployment rate for recent graduates with agriculture-related degrees was 7.0%, below the national average of 8.9%.

Graduates with animal science degrees who responded to a recent Purdue University survey said they used their majors to find careers in animal production, zoos and the pharmaceutical industry. A degree in animal science also opens doors for additional graduate and professional training in areas such as veterinary medicine, research and education. Continue reading You Know What Really Grinds My Gears? (Entry 2) →

Woman2Woman

5 O’Clock Friday Funnies: My No Good, Very Bad, Horrible Day for Shoes

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Clink, clop, Clink, clop, Clink, clop.

I was walking to my College briskly as it was twenty-seven degrees outside. Burdened down with my workout bag, my briefcase, my purse and my lunch bag, I stopped every once in a while to shift, resettle, then walk again.

Clink, clop, Clink, clop, Clink, clop.

“Crap, I think one of my heels must be worn through to the nail. I’ll need to get a new plastic cap put on next time I’m in town. I only have two pair of black dress shoes I can wear around campus.” I was talking to myself as I neared the building. I stopped again, shifted the load one last time, balanced my bags, grabbed the double doors and entered the building.

CLINK, Clop, CLINK, Clop, CLINK…

“Criminy, shoes. Loud much?” Now I was talking to my shoes.

I got to the elevator, somewhat relieved that I could give my shoes a break. When the elevator door opened, I tried a different way of walking.

Tip, tap, Tip, tap, Tip, tap…

That was better. At least I wasn’t Clinking and Clopping. Stop, shift, balance…open my office door, and…begin my day.

Thirty minutes later I walked down to the office to ask for some room scheduling support for a weekend class I was teaching. Annoyed by my shoe-noise once again, I told myself I’d probably have to shift to my tip-toe quieter mode for the rest of the day and resolved to look at my shoes before I got dressed from now on.

I stopped and talked with a few students on the way back to my office. I stopped in at the cafe and grabbed a cup of coffee. I had probably, by this point, encountered between fifty to one hundred fifty people.

I returned to my office, settled into my work mode and bent down to turn on the power strip to my computer. “Ohhhhhhhh…..” I stared at my feet.

two different shoes

Remember the “only two pair of black dress shoes I had that were suited to walk around campus?”  I had one of each on that day. Continue reading 5 O’Clock Friday Funnies: My No Good, Very Bad, Horrible Day for Shoes →

Politics

Of Marriage, Commitment, Politics and Presidents

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Newt, in the early days of his professorship at the University of Georgia. Was he strongly committed to his wife when this was taken? (Photo courtesy of Andrew Hazlett)

Early this morning I scanned an article covering details of the ABC interview with Newt Gingrich’s ex-wife, Marianne.  In the referenced video clip as well as accompanying quotes in a Washington Post article, the former Mrs. Gingrich reports among other things that:

  • Gingrich asked for an “open marriage” arrangement,
  • that he had been involved in a long-term affair with his legislative aid at that point,
  • and that soon after this conversation he moved forward with divorce proceedings even though she had just been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and the doctor had warned about stress-inducing situations.

I was in a bit of a hurry and wanted to scan a few other sources, but right before I signed off I quickly noticed a quote that weighed heavily on my mind.  Returning to review it again this evening, I now can only find one source for this quote which is interestingly the “Daily Mail” out of the United Kingdom.  Here’s the sentence:

Last year, she said in an interview: ‘He believes that what he says in public and how he lives don’t have to be connected.’

At first I wondered about the credibility of the quote because it appears it was pulled from the original article I saw this morning.  I looked through eight other sources who reprinted most all the information from the Washington Post article and none of them had this particular quote line, nor anything along the “actions vs ideas” issue.  I can’t know if the journalism entities decided to only focus on the new interview information, if there is a problem with the credibility of the quote, or if it was pulled for general editing purposes.  But that sentence, I felt, is the core of the big question about Gingrich…and, about ourselves.

Does he believe what he says in public and how he lives have to be connected?  And, do we? Continue reading Of Marriage, Commitment, Politics and Presidents →

Relationships

Cohabitation

Oh, sweet baby. You make me wish I had money to buy stock in these terribly essential household items:

 

You probably wish you could buy stock in human whining.  You listen to me complain enough about dog hair on things so much you’d be wealthy.

Oh sweet precious Tonks, I wish you would understand that when we’re outdoors building things like, oh…say…a storage shed, that you would play with your toys. Not our tools.

 

And you, dear sweet puppy of my heart, probably wish we wouldn’t be so preoccupied about cleaning up what comes out of your backside. Continue reading Cohabitation →

Oklahoma culture

Message to All the First Runners Up

Betty Thompson, Miss Oklahoma and First Runner Up Miss America

Miss Kate Kirk spoke up in my Human Sexuality class last year. And I took notice. She was thoughtful, and not afraid to interject a comment.

Then she specifically came to me last summer and asked about a research internship related to strengthening marriages.

We drove all over the state conducting interviews to find out how youth in Oklahoma make decisions regarding the best age to get married.  Oklahomans enter into their first marriages an average of 2.5 years earlier than the rest of the nation.  One of the main factors found to determine marriages lasting through the first five years is the age of first marriage.

Kate typed transcripts of the interviews for hours and hours and hours.  I wasn’t sure she was going to make it at times…but she finished the project.  She turned in a report.  And, when Miss Oklahoma State University won the Miss Oklahoma contest, Kate stepped into her new role as Miss Oklahoma State University (having formerly earned the first runner-up title).

Tonight, Miss Oklahoma Betty Thompson won First Runner-Up in the Miss America Contest.

I’ll bet Kate knows how she feels.  And, Kate also knows that sometimes First Runners-Up need to step into the role of THE representative.

What I know, however, is that the hearts and the minds of our two First Runners-Up are sharper and hold more promise than any evening gown will every afford them.  I know that they are special because they work with children, they want to make a difference in our world, and they are genuinely kind people who care about those around them and who they encounter in their travels.

You GO, Miss Oklahoma Betty Thompson, Now First Runner Up…good job!  And, YOU go, Kate Kirk, Miss Oklahoma State University.  You are in my heart and I love you.  I love all my students, but I love you in a special research assistant-who-finished-her-work-and-did-a-great-job way.

Enjoy the night, Betty Thompson…and know that you are loved.  And Kate, you already know you’re loved by me!

And hey, all you First Runners Up out there (literally and figuratively), you never know when you might need to step into that leadership role.  So keep your crown polished!

Kate Kirk - the now reigning Miss OSU

Miss Kate Kirk, formerly First Runner Up Miss OSU – now the reigning Miss OSU

Find me at the Red Dirt Chronicles…

Best, Red Dirt Kelly

 

Homestead and Garden

Paula Deen’s Got “The Sugah Diabeetus,” Y’all

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Approximately 10 a.m. CST I logged in to Twitter on my laptop. I rarely check “trending” because I Tweet to connect with my local Okie, business, industry, agricultural and blogging contacts.

I was frowning because a local Tweet voice was at the same time feigning sympathy for a young girl who had wrecked her car while posting a photo of her misfortune.

“If you really felt sorry for her, you’d respect her privacy dude.” I was preaching to my PC screen.

Then I saw it. Someone connected to me had retweeted this message put out by The Daily:

Exclusive: , queen of Southern cooking, to reveal she has diabetes

I glanced over to “trending” and saw that “Paula Deen” was number one.

“What?” I did a mental double-take, considering the information.  I was still sorting through the news when I clicked on the trending link.  And then I wanted to throw up.  Here’s a sample of the truly low messages flying through Twitter-space today:

PaulaDeen to announce she has diabetes. She found out with a simple blood test. Dr pricked her finger, butterscotch oozed out. Continue reading Paula Deen’s Got “The Sugah Diabeetus,” Y’all →
Woman2Woman

Without Words: My Chinese Doctor Doll Has Come A Long Way, Baby

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I had been in China for six days and had not caved once.  I was looking for what I felt was the perfect memento for my trip.  After drinking espresso with my colleagues at the base of the Great Wall, I wandered into the back of the store…then through a corridor, and into a room I didn’t know existed.  It was crammed with Chinese antiques from the floor to the ceiling.

There wasn’t a soul in sight so I had the quiet luxury of taking a moment from my traveling group to wander the aisles.  Armor, pottery, furniture, weapons…as I slowly stepped through the history of China and its artifacts I began to think, “Perhaps this is where I’ll find my memento.”

And I did.  On my second trip around the room, my eyes rose to the glass encased artifacts behind the counter and I drew in my breath.  “Stop, Kelly.  They’re going to be too expensive.”  I was already talking myself down from the purchase and didn’t even know their cost, much less their value.

As I peered closer, I knew which one I wanted.  There were three doctor dolls behind the case, of various materials and sizes.  And, of various levels of detail.  But the one I wanted was ivory and so delicately carved that I could see the twists of hair in her bun.

It took almost an hour to buy her.  I had not bargained so zealously for anything on this trip.  Twice I walked out of the store.  But in the end I had a turn of the century Chinese doctor doll, a certificate of authenticity and confirmation from the government regarding its validity, and a smile on my face.

I had found my memento and she had found me.

Why was she so important, you might wonder?  Well, the reason was contextual.  I was traveling with a group of marriage and family therapists and we were working with hospital and university training programs for the brand new and emerging field of family therapy in China.  And…a theme kept emerging from these meetings.

“Our students want me to teach human sexuality classes to help them with their patients, but we don’t have those classes in China.  And, I don’t want to teach them.”

“Most marital problems in China are written off as sexual problems, and because of that, couples simply get a divorce.  You can’t really help sexual problems.”

“It is still difficult for females to have discussions about sexual issues with their doctors, let alone their therapists.  We normally don’t talk much about such things.”

I first became familiar with Chinese doctor dolls when I watched the 1989 dark comedy, “The War of the Roses.”  I’ll never forget that film.  We had taken a friend who was going through a divorce.  The movie was about a horrible divorce.  I’ll let you guess about the success of our evening out.

In the opening scene, Barbara shows up at a Nantucket antique auction and outbids Oliver for a Chinese doctor doll.  The conversation over that piece brought them together, and it was the last meaningful shred of their marriage that was shattered into a million pieces right before they killed each other in a long, drawn-out and tragic divorce. Continue reading Without Words: My Chinese Doctor Doll Has Come A Long Way, Baby →