Bali On the Badlands

 

Sheila and I spent a long weekend at Foss State Park in far Western Oklahoma.  Foss Lake is relatively unknown expect to locals and bass fishermen who travel long distances to fish there.  It is located in the flat grassy expanse of Western Oklahoma and has extraordinarily ocean like sandy beaches.  During the week, especially outside the summer rush, the place is virtually empty.  

Since I had a teaching activity Saturday, we left mid-morning Sunday.  We stopped for lunch at the BOOMARANG DINER in CHANDLER, OK.  This is a chain of 50's retro diners that serves breakfast, burgers and simple diner food. The place was spotless and cute, the young servers were friendly and helpful and the food was outstanding.  I told our statuesque young server that with her height and figure she should be a model.  I was rewarded with a charming small town blush and shy smile.  Sheila and I split a chicken tender sandwich and an order of onion rings.  It was all exceptionally fresh and well prepared.  We thought about stopping there on the way back to do it all over again. 

We stayed at the CABINS at FOSS LAKE STATE PARK.  We arrived at the tiny house cabin we had reserved almost exactly four hours after we left.  Check in  took less than five minutes.  The little cabin was spotless, well laid out and well furnished.  It even had a good queen size bed.  It is a near perfect tiny house layout.  But having said that, the people who placed the cabins (there are two) should have thought twice about the location.  They are close to a busy state highway.  We could hear oil trucks passing until almost sunset.  This was not helped by someone from the farm house up the hill who had their stereo turned up full blast and kept it that way until bed time.  Our home in Broken Arrow is much quieter and has a better view of nature than these cabins.  There was nothing the local staff could have done to make our stay more pleasant. They were friendly and helpful.  But, somebody didn't think when they located those cabins.  I would strongly recommend they plant a grove of fast growing pine trees and shrubs between the cabin the road and that inconsiderate farmers house if they want to improve the ambience of their cabins.

We had a couple of hours to kill before dinner so I set up my amateur radio field rig and worked a few contacts.  I was surprised that it worked as well as it did.  I also spent a little time serenading Sheila with my uke as we sat on the bench on the patio watching the late afternoon pass.  While my attempts at music are not always melodic she was still nice enough to endure it and give me a patient smile in the process.  

We had dinner at PREET DHABA an Indian restaurant just a few miles down the road.  The online reviews were good and the pictures of the food looked good.  Some people shade the truth on the internet.  The "restaurant" is actually the back room of a small Conoco truck stop.  The so called "menu" was written in Punjab on a dry erase marker on the wall.  One of the Indian men hanging around translated for us in a less than gracious manner.  The servings were tiny and served on a military style metal tray.  The only really good thing on the tray was the fresh cooked flatbread.  This place is apparently a hangout for Punjabi, Indian and Sikh truck drivers running I-40.  We didn't feel especially welcome and neither the food nor the service would bring us back.  The place had a bad vibe.  Once again, don't believe everything you read on the internet.

I was up long before Sheila as usual.  I made myself a cup of coffee and got out our travel radio.  I enjoy listening to distant AM stations.  So far out on the flatlands, I was receiving signals from hundreds and even thousands of miles away.  I enjoy listening to the small town stations where the local AM broadcaster is still a big part of the community giving everything from farm reports to obits.  I spent several minutes listening to local newscast from Cheyenne, Wyoming.  

We spent Monday morning exploring the park.  It is a remarkably clean and well kept little park with an abundance of RV slots, picnic tables and other recreational facilities.  There are several good docks and ramps for the serious bass fishermen.  There was none of the hustle and bustle of the state parks near more populated areas.  We settled in on one of the pretty little beaches shown in the ads.  We had it to ourselves.  We spent the rest of the morning there.  The water was too cold for swimming so we got out our rods and fished.  While we saw many large bass breaking the surface none were interested in what we had to offer.  This is a lake that attracts serious fishermen so I guess the fish knew it when a couple of rank amateur bank fishermen were on the other end of the line.

I had forgotten to pack our picnic basket for lunch so we decided to explore the small towns north of the lake.  These tiny little farming hubs are all remarkably clean and well kept up compared to places of similar size in the eastern part of the state.  It's almost as though the strong west winds out there blow all of the trash east.  

We wound up at a charming little place called MARIA'S TAQUERIA in HAMMON, OK.  No sign out front.  Just a storefront on the sparsely populated Main Street of Harmon.  I guess all of the locals know where it's at and there's not much traffic so a sign isn't necessary. We found it using GPS.  We were amazed when we stepped in.  The place was spotless and very well equipped.  Maria was cooking and her charming teen aged daughter was working the counter.  I had tacos and Sheila had gorditas.  The food was fabulous.  Genuine home cooked Mexican.  

About halfway through our meal a large Hispanic man in work clothes walked in and sat down at the table behind us.  He is Maria's husband.  He told me the story of the place.  He works for one of the local rig service companies.  They bought the shell of this empty downtown building a few years ago and Maria refurbished it herself.  I have to say she did a great job.  It looks like it was professionally done. I remarked on the place being empty and he explained that most of their business is takeout for the guys who work the rigs and local agribusinesses who pass through.  This family is working hard and doing a good job.   I wish them well.  Western Oklahoma has killed a lot of small timer's dreams.  

After lunch, we headed back to the lake and settled in at the large, well situated pole fishing dock at one of the boat ramps.  Again, we had the place to ourselves.  Sheila managed to thoroughly tangle the line on her little Zebco Dock Demon spinning rig and I managed to lose a pretty nice lure and a bait rig to the undergrowth near the bank.  Once again, the fish eluded us but it was a nice quiet time together sharing a few laughs at ourselves and enjoying the surroundings.  

Sheila wanted to have dinner at LUCILLE'S ROAD  HOUSE in CLINTON, OK.  It is hyped as a Route 66 legend.  It may have been once upon a time when it was in the old gas station out on old Route 66.  Now, it is nothing more than another cookie cutter diner clone on a large scale.  We shared a chicken fried steak.  It was overcooked and under seasoned. The mashed potatoes were sub par.  The only thing good was the fried okra but it is really hard to mess up fried okra unless you cook it black since all you have to do is dump it out of the bag frozen into the deep fryer.  Our GPS tried three times to take us to TC's up the street where the parking lot was jammed.  We should have listened to the GPS.

Once back at the cabin, Sheila spent the evening reading and I overdosed on Gunsmoke re-runs on the satellite TV.  

Tuesday morning, I asked Sheila what she wanted to do.  I figured she might be up for a little more exploring on the way back.  She declined and said head home so that's what we did.  On the way back we stopped at Braum's in Clinton, OK to get a sausage biscuit to supplement our healthy but meager yoghurt breakfast eaten earlier.  The voice through the drive thru speaker came back with perfect, unaccented highly polished and professional English.  When I got to the window, I asked the young lady where she was from.  She replied Guatemala.  She sounded very well educated and spoke a lot better English than most Okies.  

The trip home took a little over three hours.  This was our first road trip in our new Hyundai Kona SUV.  The fuel economy was great, thirty three or so mpg at the speed limit or plus.  All of the systems worked flawlessly except for gps which tended to lie about road obstructions and route us in great circles around the flatlands when it got confused.  The drivers seat did prove to be an issue after a couple of hours of driving. We opted not to purchase the more expensive model because the base equipment package on a Hyundai has all of the features we will normally use plus many more we won't. The one thing missing on our Kona is a lumbar support on the drivers seat.  It is a power seat with a number of possible adjustments but you have to spend a couple of thousand more for a package that includes a touch screen the size of a TV that stretches across two thirds of the dash to get lumbar support.  This usually isn't a problem driving around town.  But, I spent most of trip back with a folded towel strategically positioned on the spot where my back was complaining.  

I don't know if I would do the Foss Lake Cabins again.  The cabin itself was great but between the truck noise and the farmer's stereo I really didn't get the cabin experience I was hoping for.  They apparently didn't think about the cabins as a destination in and of themselves but rather just a place for visiting fishermen to sleep.  Having said that, Foss Lake would be great place with an RV or Travel Trailer since those spots are far quieter and better located near the water and the rest of the park.

We had a good time and didn't let the annoyances bother us.  That was the most important thing.  We were together and it was pleasant.

Memorial Day 2025

Yesterday, Sheila and I made the annual trek to Sallisaw to decorate our family graves. It was a cold and rainy day and we did not get to enjoy a few moments over the graves, silently remembering and in our hearts speaking to our beloved family members who have passed on.  We simply put the flowers out and got out of the rain and wind as quickly as we could.  Mom, Dad, Uncle Gene, Uncle Charlely you deserve more attention than you got this year.  But, Sheila was barefoot in the puddles and my shoes were soaked.  We were both shivering in the wind.  I'm sure you understand.

I was disappointed to see that the local American Legion had not (at least yet) placed flags on my father's and my Uncle Charley's graves.

As we were getting ready to leave, I asked Sheila to dig around her purse and find a penny for me. I never carry change. There is a tradition among veterans. When you visit another veterans grave, you leave a coin. A penny means that another veteran was there showing his respect. Larger coins mean more about your relationship.

I always visit the grave of a young army captain who would have been about about my age.  He is buried near my family's graves. I didn't know him but knew members of his family.  He was one of the last graduates of the Oklahoma Military Academy.  He died in Viet Nam on my birthday in 1970 trying to rescue a number of wounded that had been left behind by their retreating unit. The citation for his Silver Star, America’s second highest award for valor, says that he personally pulled two of the wounded back to safety and died with a third in his arms. Many of the best men of my generation died in that useless jungle geo-political escapade now just vaguely remembered as the Viet Nam "conflict." In years past, I would I would often find other coins on his headstone. This year, there was only mine.

It was a necessary but disappointing trip.  But, we had the living to think about as well.  Sheila's sister and her husband are both quite ill and were past due for a visit.  We took them food and then took them  for a little drive up in the hills to visit an old hangout or two. It seemed to cheer them up a bit.

Maybe next year we can spend more time.

 

The Kona Chronicles - Beginning

It's been over a decade since Sheila and I bought a new car.  We are by nature frugal and I take very good care of my automobiles so they usually last until I get tired of them. And then Sheila drives them some more.  Had the insurance company not, over my strenous objections, totalled my beloved 2011 Sonata which ran like a Swiss watch, I would still be driving it.

We had been discussing buying a new car for over a year and were torn between the Hyundai Kona which gets  high ratings for reliabilty and value and the Buick Envista which is stylish and cute.  We settled on the Hyundai because of the superior warranty and the fact that Buick's tiny three cylinder supercharged engine makes the car while cute as button over complicated under the hood and still badly underpowered.  

But, deciding to buy a Hyundia and actually buying one are two very different things.  They make wonderful cars that offer incredible value for the money.  But, you have to buy the car in spite of their dealers rather than with their help.  We made several initial attempts over several months and every time the dealership frustrated us so badly that we just quit looking.  Hyundai USA should pay a lot more attention to the quality and training of their sales force.

At one dealership we were met in the lot by a friendly, well dressed guy about our age who did the preliminary sales talk.  But, when we walked into the showroom he "handed us off" to a young man with dreadlocks,urban athletic clothing and an attitude that we did not find conducive to favoring with our business.  Hyundai USA should take a lesson from Bud Light and scrap DEI.  Some of us find it insulting.

At another dealership, the very young sales person knew absolutely nothing about the car and when we asked questions would pull out his phone and Google for information.  When he couldn't Google an answer and asked a more senior person on the floor that person said, "Go ask Jimmy.  He knows about this stuff."  Apparently Jimmy was the only person in the building that had studied the brochures.  Hyundai USA dealers, here is message for you, customers Google too and in many of  your dealerships they may walk in knowing more about the cars than your so called sales people. Get rid of your identity politics token employees and hire a few professional salespeople who know the product and know how to serve a customer.

At this dealership, we asked to test drive a new vehicle and they found the battery was dead.  After they tried jumping the car they found the gas tank was empty.  So, we spent nearly an  hour sitting around the dealership waiting for them to get a new car on their lot able to drive around for a few blocks.  Hyudai USA dealers here is another message. Keep your stock in good shape and in running condition.  Buyers will want to drive the car and will not be impressed if it won't start.

After several more disappointments at dealers around the area I decided to give the last dealership a second chance.  Even though they are about a forty five minute drive away and their sales department is virtually non-existent, they do have a reputation for having the best service department in the region.  Since Hyundai gives a 5/60 bumper to bumper, 10/100 drivetrain warranty and free oil changes and regular service for the first several years you own the car the service department is important. 

So, I emailed the general manager of the dealership, told him where the car we wanted was located at another dealership about half an hour away and asked him for appointment to talk business.  My proposition was straightforward.  They would appraise our trade in and if the final price was reasonable I would give them a cashiers check for the amount due.  THE DEALERSHIP DID NOT ANSWER MY EMAIL.

In desperation, we finally went to the dealership where the car we wanted was located.  After a couple of really frustrating situations with them in previous years with different cars I had sworn I would never walk onto that lot again.  But, we already knew which car we wanted right down to the VIN number and had already determined what we would pay for it.  Surely we could get through that.  

The very young salesman who approached was friendly and helpful.  I knew we were being hustled but he was giving us the information and access we needed so I went along for the ride.  At least his line of BS was entertaining and he didn't look like a thug. The car we wanted was ready for a test drive so I drove it for a while and then we went downtown to Sheila's office and she drove it around a while.  We were gone at least an hour and half.  We already knew what we were willing to do.  The obligatory negotiations followed and later that evening we drove away in the car.  

However, the young man who did all of the work was not the salesperson who appeared on the paperwork.  We had apparently once again been "handed off" to another person.  I was left wondering if the dealership was not pulling the same stunt insurance companies use.  They "hire" junior salespeople as trainees, milk them for all of their personal contacts, only give them part if any of their commissions or worse get them into the hole on a draw and then let them go when the stream of new leads dries up.

A real sour note was their "business manager" actually their F&I man.  Sheila and both worked the F&I market a long time ago and we know the tricks.  This guy spent too much time hard selling us an expensive secondary warranty that would kick in after the very generous Hyundai warranty expires.  He tried to scare us by telling us how delicate the electronics of new cars had become and how expensive it is to repair them.  I was tempted to say, "Well if that's true give me my check back and I'll go buy a low mileage pre-electronics, pre-computer used car." 

Sheila was an executive in the company that underwrote the US extended warranty program for one of the Japanese big three.  We know what those warranties cost.  But, the scare tactics, cheap sales methods and "I'll only do this price reduction for you" statements reduced his credibility to zero in my eyes.  Hyundai USA dealers here is another message.  Set a fair fixed price for your extended warranty and stick to it.  Don't encourage your F&I people to cast doubt on the quality of your product and ruin the credibility of the whole dealership over a few hundred dollars in commissions.  If this guy had just spent a few moments explaining the benefits of the program without the scare tactics and then offered a reasonable price we might have bought it.    

After all is said and done, we are happy with the little car.  It is comfortable, peppy enough and gets great fuel economy.  It is small but handy.  We averaged 35 mpg at 75 mph on a trip this weekend.  I only wish Hyundai offered it with their more powerful 2.0 L Theta normally aspirated engine instead of the turbo option. Sheila will drive it to work and around town and we will use it for travel.  My well kept but aging Sonata will remain my every day vehicle.  Sheila likes the new car.  It is her first new off the lot car.  In the past she had always driven my hand-me-downs.   And, it is something like her beloved ancient Nissan SUV from decades ago that I made her get rid of when it was no longer safe to drive and uneconomical to repair.  

But above all, thank heavens we won't have to deal with car salesmen for a long time in the future if ever again.

Postscript:

The saga continues.  Soon after we purchased the vehicle I got a call from the younger salesperson saying that they "required" three referrals on each sale.  I was taken aback by the hubris.  I didn't say what I should have said but simply replied, "I am not inclined to do that."  Did they seriously think I was going let them more or less order me to give them the names of three of my friends just because I was buying a car from them?  The very thought was insulting.  I am not about to share my friends contact information with anyone much less a car salesman and I would be highly unhappy with a friend that did.  

Then the calls began concerning their performance review.  The younger salesman almost begged me for a good review saying that they actually got paid on their review performance.  He offered to buy us a free tank of gas if we would fill out the review in the dealership.  I told him I didn't have the car.  Then the calls began from the older salesperson whose name appeared on the paperwork.  Every couple of days with texts and emails as well.  It was getting annoying quickly.  I find the thought of asking for a good review and then thinking you can buy one with a tank of gas insulting.  Seriously.  Do a good job with your customers and then don't worry about the reviews.  The reviews will take care of themselves.

Hyundai USA here is final message.  You sell fine quality products.  They have a great reputation here in the US.  Make sure your dealerships sales tactics match that reputation.

Music and Madness in April

 April was an interesting month.  Two of the highlights were that we had a chance to enjoy some really good home brew music and Sheial and some of my friends thought I had gone insane for a while.

My old friend Robert Smith is a truly gifted country/western/swing musician.  I was pleased to learn that one of my friends from church, Braden Miller, used to play with him in ages past.  I asked Robert about Braden and he said something like, "Yeah, nice kid.  Plays like Chet Atkins."  Braden is in his forties now, BTW.  That's high praise from Robert.  So, I decided to arrange a reunion and home jam session.  I also invited a family from church that lives in our neighborhood.  The father asked, "Do you want me to bring my violin?"  I thought to myself, "Fiddle would be a better word for this crew," but just said, "Sure."

Robert showed up with enough equipment to put on a full show and he did just that.  He's got a great solo act that he plays around the retirement home, no booze restaraunt circuit.  (He's pretty hard core Church of Christ.)

Braden came in with a truly ancient Fender Amp that looked like it had been through the wars and a pristine vintage Gibson jazz box worth a small fortune.  It sounded wonderful.  It wasn't long before Robert and Braden were putting out a mix of Bob Wills, George Strait and Willie Nelson songs that would have been at home in any high class honky tonky in Oklahoma or Texas. 

But, the real wild card was the fiddle player, Jeremiah.  He gave us all some bad moments when he said he played mostly classical and hymns.  He didn't tell us that he is one of those rare musicians that can simply hear a tune and play it ... not only play it but play it well.  Within a couple of minutes he was playing the fills and the fiddle leads on those old western swing tunes like he had been doing it all of his life.  He said that he had never heard a lot of them.  Robert wanted to recruit him for his swing band.

One of Jeremiah's daughters plays uke so she picked up my little Epiphone Hummingbird and played along quietly on several numbers.  It was good to have those teenagers in the house.  They were polite and pleasant and most of them appeared to be having a good time.  I noticed a couple of them singing along with the songs silently and tapping their feet.  

I didn't join in.  I am not in the same league with those guys for one thing but for another it wasn't the right night or the right crowd for my brand of blues which is about all I am any good at.  Blues is like Haiku, the forms are very simple but the thoughts can run as deep as you want to take them.  This wasn't the time or place.

A good time was had by all.

A little later in the month, Sheila accused me of either experiencing a bout of insanity or lapsing into my second childhood.

It started like this.  In the afternoons, I like to take a spin around the neighborhood on one of my mobility scooters.  The problem is their top speed is four miles per hour and it takes forever and sometimes a battery change to get anywhere.  I really wanted something that I could take down to WalMart or over to Reasors on a nice day. A couple of miles round trip. When I saw a good deal on an electric scooter with a 20 mph top speed and a 15 mile range I ordered one.

It was like learning to ride a bicycle all over again.  I took a few spills but nothing serious.  But then I noticed that I couldn't enjoy riding it.  It required all of my concentration to keep upright and headed where I intended to go.  Then it hit me.  A lot of old people suffer from vertigo in varying degrees and I am no exception.  I was fighting vertigo and the scooter learning curve.  After several days of experimental riding while I mastered the controls my balance didn't improve.  I could ride the blasted thing but I couldn't enjoy it.

Finally, common sense prevailed and I agreed that if I took a bad fall it could have serious medical ramifications.  So, I gave Josh, the guy who does our lawn care and home maintenance, a good deal on the scooter.  Sheila and my friends who knew about it heaved a great sigh of relief.  I am told Josh's ten year old daughter is tearing all over their neighborhood on it now.  Oh well, it was fun for a few days even if down deep I was scared spitless part of the time.

And those were the highlights for April.

Branson In The Fall

I am sitting at the desk in the spacious duplex condo time share a friend of a friend allowed us to rent this week.  Our lifelong friends Mike and Jodi Sala traveled up with us and are occupying the other unit.  Our unit is on a mountaintop near Table Rock Lake about 15 minutes south of Branson.  Finding the condo was a trial.  The place is built on very rugged topography accessible only by a maze of near vertical slope two lane roads, confusing intersections and unmarked streets.  It even managed to confuse our GPS.

Today, I am in the unusual position of taking a vacation from our vacation.  I have done this before on cruises.  When you get so tired or are having so much pain that you aren't enjoying yourself a rest is in order.  I reached that point yesterday and declared today a personal rest day.  The rest of the crew headed out over an hour ago for a scenic train ride and in all likelihood a late lunch at Paula Deen's.

To keep myself occupied today while the others are gone, I set up my little jewel of a Japanese portable ham radio on the coffee table attached to an expedient antenna draped over the beams of our patio.  By midday, I had talked to Texas, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, Illinois, Nevada, California and Alberta, Canada to name a few on only 5 watts of power.  This is called operating QRP (low power).  It takes a lot of skill and patience to make long range contacts using half the input power of an average cell phone charger.  The average ham radio puts out about one hundred watts and it is not unusual to hear guys running over a kilowatt.

So far we have had a great time.  On the way up we stopped at Clanton's Restaurant in Vinita, Oklahoma for lunch. We split one of their giant chicken fried steaks which have consistently been voted the best in Oklahoma.  Sheila even threw caution to the wind and ordered their homemade blackberry cobbler with two scoops of ice cream.  It was delicious.

Tuesday, we had lunch at the main dining room of College of the
Ozarks.  This is not a college cafeteria.  It is a very upscale restaurant run by the college and staffed by the students.  Much of the food comes from the University's own student run farms.  The food was fabulous and the prices were quite reasonable given the quality and service. The whole places was a breath of fresh air.  The student/staff were all friendly, well groomed and seemingly happy in their work.  No bad attitudes here.  And it showed in the food.  Our meals were every bit as good as those from any upscale restaurant and made all the better by the great attitudes on the part of the staff.

After lunch, we attended a student production honoring Viet Nam veterans.  It couldn't be called professional exactly even though the players were very talented and the young lady playing an Army Nurse sang like an angel.  I almost broke up when she sang a verse of "Leavin' On A Jet Plane" acapella. That song has special meaning for the guys of our generation who time and again boarded planes wondering if it was a one way ticket.

But, whatever this production lacked in sophistication it was made up in spades by their willingness to speak the truth about the Viet Nam war and our nations shameful treatment of Viet Nam veterans.  My cynical mind turned critical very quickly when they began telling the stories.  I caught myself thinking, "That scene was taken straight out of "We Were Soldiers Once" and that one was straight out of "China Beach."  And then it hit me that I was forgetting that those story lines were based on real events lived out by real people during the war.  And then it hit me even harder that over fifty years later these big hearted, well meaning kids were taking the time and trouble to tell my generation's story, a story almost completely unheard by their generation.  Lack of sophistication aside, the production was deeply moving.  Many in the audience wept quietly as the stories unfolded.

Wednesday, we had lunch at place that successfully moved from the main street  of Haskell, Oklahoma to the main street of Branson.   Mike and Jodi knew the owners and often ate there when they were in Haskell. They are apparently making good in Branson.  They've won multiple awards for their down home cooking, a couple of buses were parked out back and the wait for a table was over forty five minutes.

Last night we saw "Queen Esther."  I don't really know how to describe it.  I was skeptical about any show being worth sixty bucks a ticket but my skepticism vanished five minutes into the show.  The costumes were stunning, the scenery was breathtaking and the stagecraft/special effects were technically amazing.  The talent is world class.  Amazing talented, professional, legitimate theatrical voices performing powerfully and movingly.  The plot follows the Biblical narrative precisely. I was stunned by it all.  The theater seats over two thousand and every performance is sold out.  Buses from all over the middle of the nation were in the parking lot.  When it was over there was a massive traffic jam.  It took us nearly an hour to get back to the main streets.  I usually don't have much patience with big productions and big crowds.  Queen Esther was worth it.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Thursday, Sheila and the crew had a good time on the train despite some out of control children and
then thoroughly enjoyed their late lunch at Paula Deen's.  Paula Deen is the reigning grand dame of Southern Cooking and if the chicken wing and butter cake Sheila slipped into her purse to bring back to me was an example the quality of the food has not suffered in the translation from South Carolina to Southern Missouri.  Sadly, Mike was in a bit of pain by the time they got back and both Mike and Jodi were worn out.  They went straight to bed more or less.  

By Friday morning Mike and I were ready to come home.  We were up early, had a quick breakfast of toast, yogurt and coffee, packed our things and headed out.  By mid-afternoon we were back in Tulsa.  It has been a good trip.  Good food, visiting with old friends and seeing a few new things.  At our age, that is a great adventure.

Memorial Day 2023

Yesterday, Sheila and I made the annual trek to Sallisaw to decorate our family graves. As usual it was a sorrowful day somewhat ameliorated by the pleasure of seeing family and friends and a nice drive through the always beautiful Cookson Hills.

The American Memorial Day holiday began after the civil war as a way to remember our war dead. “Decoration Day,” another local holiday when all family graves were decorated was usually a separate event. But, over the years, they were commonly merged. I try to keep the two remembrances separate in my consideration of the day.

When we began decorating, I noticed that Sheila had chosen an otherwise nice red, white and blue bouquet marred by what I saw as a cheap plastic doo dad saying “Hero.” There were dozens of similar displays all over the cemetery since this one was one of the better displays being sold by Wal Mart this year. However, I couldn’t help but cringe over what dad would have thought of such a display.

Dad was a genuine hero. He had the medals and commendations to prove it. He started his war in Sicily, survived the bitter slog through Italy and the Anzio catastrophe to celebrate VE day deep in Germany. But, like many if not most of his generation, dad was quiet about his heroism. He never discussed it. Once, when I was a child, I found his medals. I asked him about the Bronze Star. In his typical shy, modest manner he just said, “Aw shucks. They gave those things away with Wheaties.” It was many years before I learned that they don’t award the Bronze Star for trivial reasons.

But, dad was a hero in another way as well. Despite suffering from PTSD his entire life, he was a pillar of the community and our church and literally worked himself to death to give Mom and I a better life. Taking nothing away from his war time heroism, this second kind of heroism, the daily surrender of your life, your hopes and your ambitions to care for a family under always difficult and sometimes nearly impossible circumstances is truly awe inspiring.

Dad would not have been happy to see a little white plastic sign over his grave, calling him a “hero.” He was a hero, he knew it, I certainly knew it and that would have been enough for him. In my dad’s generation, real heroes didn’t brag and they certainly didn’t cheapen their sacrifice by letting anyone make merchandise of it.

As we were getting ready to leave, I reached in my pocket and realized I had no coins there. I don't know what I was thinking. I haven’t carried coins in years. So, I asked Sheila to dig around in her purse and find a penny for me. There is a tradition among veterans. When you visit another veterans grave, you leave a coin. A penny simply means that another veteran was there showing his respect. A nickle means that you served in boot camp with them. A dime means that you actually served with them at some point. A quarter means that you were there when they died.

A young army captain is buried near my families graves. He died in Viet Nam on my birthday in 1970 during a truly hairy mission trying to rescue a number of wounded that had been left behind by their retreating unit. The citation for his Silver Star, America’s second highest award for valor, says that he personally pulled two of the wounded back to safety and died with a third in his arms. That kind of selfless courage deserves to be remembered. In years past, I would I would often find other coins on his headstone. This year, there was only mine.

As we were driving home, Sheila remarked sadly, “When we’re gone, nobody will decorate their graves or ours.” She is right. The ungrateful generation after ours at best cares nothing for their heritage and at worst is ashamed of it. And even the fact that we are ashamed of them will mean nothing once we are gone.

 

A Classic Christmas Dinner Whoops

 

Yesterday, we were celebrating an early Christmas since our daughter and her family will be out of town during the actual holiday.  We recently sold them our old home in midtown and they are remodeling it to prepare it for rental.

As we were sitting around the living room distributing presents, my son in law handed me the old Chilton's repair manual for my dearly beloved and sorely missed '68 Z-28.  He said he had found it as they were stripping out the garage.

Smiling he said that he had also found something else with it.  An old love letter from Sheila.  He had not opened it. Looking across the room I could see from the handwriting on the envelope that the letter WAS NOT from Sheila.  Sheila was immediately alert and interested.  She grabbed the letter and put it in her purse.  

We quickly determined that the letter was from a girl I was dating just before Sheila and I were engaged.  Sheila demanded that she be allowed to read the letter.  I strenuously objected.  Eventually, I prevailed and the letter was consigned in pieces to the nearest waste basket.

The moment passed without further incident but the look on my son-in-law's face was priceless.