On the Horizon: Pharmacy Danger

I have never had a gun put in my face, but in talking to those who have, I hear a recurring theme; no matter the caliber, when you are starring down the barrel it looks like a cannon. Something I thought of when I learned of the conviction of an Oklahoma City pharmacist last week.

Jerome Ersland was given a life sentence for the first-degree murder of would be robber 16-year-old Antwun Parker. The 59-year-old pharmacist shot the youngster six times during an attempted armed robbery in 2009, leading jurors to decide he had acted beyond the limits of self defense.

Dramatic surveillance footage shows Antwun Parker and an accomplice running into the Reliable Discount Pharmacy in South Oklahoma City and pointing a gun directly at Mr. Ersland. Ersland then shot the 16-year-old dropping him to the floor. After chasing the accomplice from the store, Ersland then gets a second gun before shooting Parker another five times.

I wonder if when Mr. Ersland went to pharmacy school, he could have imagined he would find himself in such a life and death situation.

When asked why he robbed banks, bank robber Willie Sutton is reported to have said…”because that is where the money is.”

That same principle applies in a disturbing trend of pharmacy hold ups. Criminals not looking for money, but for drugs. In today’s video blog, Oklahoma Horizon’s Courtenay Dehoff introduces us to another Oklahoma pharmacist who was on the wrong side of drug store violence.

 

Pharmacy Danger from Alisa Hines on Vimeo.

B.N.F.M.K.

I’ve spent a lifetime involved with educational systems, and I don’t just mean as a student.  My dad was a school teacher and administrator for over 20 years, and I have worked in higher education administration for 13+ years.    Suffice to say, I’ve seen some of what goes into trying to make it all work; making the sausage, you might say.

Few things are as important to a society as their educational systems.  And yet, it is an area where American society does not always invest as much as might be optimal or even necessary.  Good school systems or bad, it comes down to personal commitment and relationships.

Commitments at home.
Commitments at school.

Commitments to learning.
Commitments to discipline.
Commitments to the kids.

As constituents of our educational systems, we don’t always agree with decisions, directions, and disciplinary actions by the schools and their agents.  Or, maybe we agree with many policies, actions, or individual decisions, BNFMK: “But not for my kids?”

Regardless, when the smoke clears and another school year is in the books, we should be thankful for those in the trenches with the scores of energetic and hormonal kids for a day, a week, a month, a year…or even 39 years (the Edmond years of service record, I believe). It is a higher calling.  Commitment indeed.

So, thank you, teachers.  Thank you, principals and administrators.    Thank you, parents.  And thank you, kids!

And now, school’s out for summer!  Enjoy!  The learning opportunities may be temporarily ending for some…, BNFMK(s):

Vicksburg, here they come!

Note from the Editor:  We’re pleased to introduce Jeff Bingham, RDC’s newest contributor, to you.  He’s a thoughtful numbers-cruncher and I’m sure will have lots to offer our community.  Welcome, Jeff – it’s good to have you aboard. ~ RDK

Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: We’re Back!

It wasn’t until I had lots of empty ground to fill with my choice of plants that I learned the difference between annuals and perennials.  Now, that we are starting on our fifth summer in our own house in the country, we are enjoying the fruits of our labor; the perennials are back and they’ve brought friends.

Perennials on the bank
Our Junipers are filling in the sunny part of the bank. The Snapdragons on the right come back and had a little color right before the shaded Vinca Vine.

The bank has been challenging to landscape.  Part of the 200 foot long bank gets full sun while the rest is shaded by a tree line.  When we add in the factor of a steep slope, we are limited in the choices that will thrive in that environment.  We have been experimenting with several varieties of shrubs and vines for the last five years.  Just this year I have noticed how much our perennials have grown and spread.

It takes some work.  I spend the early part of the growing season checking on the placement of the new branches of the Junipers, so I can get maximum coverage.  I also placed some rocks in the banks to prevent water creating ditches in the bank.  I am not always successful.  This morning I noticed a couple of missing plants washed away by the recent heavy rains. Continue reading Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: We’re Back!

Silent Sunday: Indian Taco Championship, Pawhuska, OK

Last weekend, my husband and I joined Mark and Cathy Hinderliter on a Northeastern Oklahoma roadtrip to Pawhuska.  The Indian Taco National Championship festival was being held and we decided to check it out.  These photos are shots of downtown Pawhuska, the festival activities, and the people around town.  Have a peaceful Silent Sunday…enjoy! [kelly] Continue reading Silent Sunday: Indian Taco Championship, Pawhuska, OK

Barbershop Theology: Mortality, the Mortician, and Me

It was cold. I remember that.

I had just started my part of the closing routine in Caldwell’s Barber Shop, sweeping clumps of hair, filling the lather machine, and straightening up the magazine tables. I was at the barber shop following a day at school. Mainly, I was just killing time and hoping we could close promptly at 6:00. I was anxious to go home.

The barber shop door opened and I turned to see Mr. Crews entering. I figured he would sit and wait. He would be the final customer of the day.

Mr. Crews owned the funeral home in Apache, Oklahoma. In fact, these many years later, it’s still Crews Funeral Home located in the middle of town. I always thought Mr. Crews was a really nice guy. But the funeral director didn’t sit. He walked over to my dad and said something, Dad nodded his head. Mr. Crews left.

Dad finished the haircut, thanked his customer and said, “thank you, come back.” (He always said that.)

Then Dad unplugged his clippers and wrapped them in a fresh towel. He placed a pair of scissors in his breast pocket, turned off the lights and as I was already moving toward the door. I ran to jump in the pick-up truck. I started the vehicle since the keys were right there in the ignition.

I slid across to the passenger’s side as Dad climbed in behind the steering wheel. We drove all of a half a block and stopped at Crews’ Funeral Home.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, though I could have guessed.

“Just wait in the pick-up,” he said.

“Are you going to cut a dead guy’s hair?” Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Mortality, the Mortician, and Me

Let’s Not Get Greedy Thunder Fans

Remember the best date you ever went on?  As the night grew late, and the hours slipped away, you knew it had to come to an end.  You held on as long as possible, maybe even talking in the driveway in your truck for another hour.  But eventually, you parted ways and there was that immediate feeling of disappointment that something so fun, and potentially so special, had to come to an end.

Well, Thunder fans, your team just treated you to the best season of your life.  Even a few days later, you’re still thinking about each incredible moment, every amazing victory, and how you just didn’t want it to end.  Naturally, you’ll also let your mind wander to what could have been.  The close calls, the near misses, and the wasted opportunities will replay in your mind again and again.

If only the date could keep going.  If only the Thunder could take the court one more time.

Harden is a consistent performer off the bench and key piece of the Thunder’s future (courtesy fantasybasketballbreakdown.blogspot.com)

Trust me Thunder fans, momentary disappointment should soon give way to hopeful anticipation.  You can be upset at losing the series, maybe even a little angry at the inability of the Thunder to close out games in the fourth quarter.  You can question some of the shot selection and the plays drawn up in the final minutes of those nail-biting playoff losses.  It’s all part of the fan’s necessary healing process.

What you can’t do is call this team a bunch of underachievers.  In no way are you allowed to dwell on the negatives, when the positives are so blatantly overwhelming, and it’s definitely not okay for you to be calling for widespread changes to the roster or the coaching staff.

Look, in three short seasons, this franchise has put itself in a position no one thought possible.  From 23 wins in the first year, to the playoffs in the year two, and now a run all the way to the Western Conference Finals.  How could anyone possibly be upset with this progression?  How could anyone possibly think this team isn’t right on schedule?  Championships in professional sports take time.  Successful franchises are built one block at a time, and the process is usually much longer than three seasons.

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Continue reading Let’s Not Get Greedy Thunder Fans

On the Horizon: Pawnee Bill

The year was 1888 and the Wild West was changing. Recognizing that fact, showman Gordan W Lillie, known today as Pawnee Bill, started a Wild West show that traveled the country and the world until 1913. But, the story does not end there.

In 1988, the Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum hosted the first re-enactment of Pawnee Bill’s original Wild West Show. Every year since, they have continued the tradition the last three Saturdays in June.

Today in our video blog we head to Pawnee, Oklahoma, to learn more about the man who began it all, and the people who have kept his dream alive more than a century later.

 

Pawnee Bill’s Wild West Show from Alisa Hines on Vimeo.

Yukon, OK v. Los Angeles, CA: A Bona Fide Pork Rind Throw Down

This evening I stopped by my favorite quick stop, Covell Corner.  Okay, it’s my ONLY area quick stop but they’re really great.  I could write an entire post about the family who started that business, how nice their employees are, and how their deli pizza is scrump-deli-icious… but that’s not what I want to share with you.  I wanted to let you know that I was in the store, wandering aimlessly because I couldn’t find Perrier or club soda, when I saw a full rack of El Sabroso Pork Cracklins beckoning me.

No, I don’t like pork rinds.  Not really.  But when I was a little girl, my mother would buy them as a special snack because SHE liked them.  So a few weeks ago I purchased a local pork rind microwavable product at the Farmer’s Market because the owner of the company was a friend…AND I thought, “Give them to mom, she might like them.”  My mother has made a lifetime habit of seeing some piece of clothing or other product while she’s out shopping, then thinking I might like it – purchases it and brings it to me at the next family get-together.  It’s about time I turned the tables on her, don’t you think? Continue reading Yukon, OK v. Los Angeles, CA: A Bona Fide Pork Rind Throw Down

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

The Cox family is on the countdown to our first official family vacation.  In the six years we’ve had children we’ve been on numerous trips to visit family and friends, but this trip is different.  Webster’s defines vacation as “a period of suspension of work, study, or other mandatory activity, usually used for rest or recreation.”  I personally equate vacation with traveling to a destination we’ve never been to pursue new adventures and spend quality time with my immediate family.   So, guess what, we’re going to Disneyland!  I’m not sure it will meet the criteria of being restful, but there is sure to be a good deal of quality time and recreation. Discover some of the most relaxing Scottsdale resorts for travelers.

The anticipation and excitement of our upcoming adventure got me thinking about my childhood family vacations.  Like many working class families, I don’t think we took a vacation every year but a few travels stand out in my memory.  It is when I think about the funny, stressful or otherwise memorable experiences we shared through the years that I truly appreciate the unmatched bond of family. Wondering Where is Hot in March? Uncover trending destinations, sun-soaked beaches, luxurious resorts, and captivating cultures across the globe. Vacationers are spoiled for choice with the incredible Scottsdale resorts available year-round.

There’s the time we took an RV and horse trailer across the country to Cheyenne, WY to watch my dad compete in a rodeo.  If you had any doubt about my “Red Dirt” roots, they can be put to rest, as I grew up turning calves out of the chute as my dad practiced his roping skills.  We traveled to many rodeos throughout my childhood, but the Wyoming trip carries special memories.  We parked the RV amidst many others and spent what seemed like weeks, although I’m sure it was just a few days, living in a temporary community of rodeo families.  Someone set up a dummy calf (bale of hay with a fake head on it) for the kids to practice their roping, and my daddy was so proud of my skills that he bought me my very own rope…..a huge deal to my six year old self.

We borrowed some cowboy’s Cadillac (funny in and of itself, right?!) to drive into town to go swimming at an indoor pool where I experienced my first truly embarrassing moment when I chickened out on the high dive and forced a bunch of kids to climb back down the ladder so I wouldn’t have to take the plunge. And, I think this trip was the beginning of our family tradition of spending hours on the road coming up with new verses to the ever popular “Diarrhea” song.  Once that got old, we could always count on dad to blast his favorite Platters album and sing at the top of his lungs.  Yes, I know all the words to “The Great Pretender” and “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.”  In later years, I started singing the harmony just to change it up a bit.

In stark contrast, my parents took all six of us to Hawaii the summer before my junior year in high school.  This was long after my dad had abandoned the rodeo circuit due to the requirement that he enter senior rodeo and his subsequent refusal to recognize himself as a senior.  He decided golf was a wonderful substitute and began wearing shorts and tennis shoes, instead of boots and jeans, for the first time in his life.  The best place he could imagine to wear said clothing was Hawaii.

My parents had been to Hawaii several times and, knowing that our family wouldn’t all be together for too much longer given my age (I’m the oldest), they bit the bullet and used my college money (not bitter) to take us on a magnificent trip.  The great thing about this trip is that we have so many collective memories and continue to bond over them even now.  When Jason and I were dating, we’d always joke that every trip to my parent’s house would inevitably include at least one sentence that began with, “Remember in Hawaii when…?”

We still make this joke and have refined it to assert that the only certainties in life are death, taxes and repeated conversations about Hawaii.  We’ll talk about going parasailing, snorkeling and the undersea Nautilus tour.  We’ll laugh about eating at the super fancy restaurant where my brother Cooper looked at the menu full of things we couldn’t pronounce and subsequently ordered a cheeseburger (blank stare from the not-so-amused waiter).  This moment was followed by my brother Conner spitting out whatever fancy thing he ordered and my mom trying to discreetly clean the chewed lump off the floor before anyone noticed.  News alert: they noticed.  My dad will reminisce about driving to the top of the volcano on a one-lane road with no guard rails to prevent us from plummeting to our death, and that I was so convinced we were going to die that I curled up in the floorboard of the back seat and alternated between crying and praying.  We’ll sing a chorus of “Tiny Bubbles” at the top of our lungs like some gregarious drunk guy did at the luau we attended.  We’ll talk about the horrible one-way roads in Honolulu and how we were lost for hours in the middle of the night upon our initial arrival to the city.  And we’ll all agree that the Pizza Hut delivery we ate on the floor of our hotel room after we finally made it was hands down the best we’d ever had.

Memories are made each and every day, but I’m ready to make some that are just ours to talk about for years to come.  With a first-time airplane ride and a trip to Disneyland in our near future, I’m pretty confident I can accomplish this goal.  And, even if we don’t have anything spectacular happen to us while we’re there, I’m eager to eat some pizza that, regardless of its quality and taste, will be the new “best I’ve ever had.”

[kendy]

Editor’s note: Visit HERE for Kendy’s post over how their family vacation held a surprise they certainly didn’t expect.

Pint Night: From McNellie’s The Abner in Norman

So, every Monday night at McNellie’s The Abner in Norman is Pint Night. Good golly gosh, I love Pint Night.  The deal is, you go and buy the featured beer of the night, and you get to keep the glass that is made for that beer.

This first picture is of our kitchen cabinet:

The middle cabinet that is stacked and packed full of glasses is our beer glass shelf…and every single one of those glasses came from pint night.  The next picture is a high up shelf where we keep the too-tall pint glasses, or the extra fancy ones that are more fragile (like a Warsteiner Dunkel special edition Christmas glass with a hand blown glass ornament at the bottom): Continue reading Pint Night: From McNellie’s The Abner in Norman

The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 21

#21 of 52 : FRANKIE JEAN
Imaginary Family Project - Week 21

External Photo Clues:
None

Imagine:
By the time this photo was taken of my mother she had made up her mind. I can tell because she looks almost happy.

In this photograph—I found a bunch of them in a box in the garage with a yellow dress and an old, empty bottle of French perfume—she and my daddy are looking in different directions. They always were, but I guess in the inky womb of the club where they met, they couldn’t tell that yet. At 18, Mama hadn’t yet discovered the difference between a man’s big talk and a man’s real talk. The only reason he wasn’t a foreman at the factory, Daddy told her, was cause they wouldn’t let colored people or Indians be foremen but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. After all, he’d spent two years in Paris during the war, hadn’t he?

She’s never told me any of this, not in words. Not out loud. All I really know is that the yellow dress is the one she used to wear to the juke joints down on Freeman Highway. It was the kind of dress with a low sweetheart neckline and slim-fitting skirt that promised that the nice girl might not be quite as nice as you thought. Continue reading The 2011 Imaginary Family Project – Week 21

N.U.T. #5 – I don’t raise my voice in anger.

A real man rarely raises his voice and when he does, it is never out of anger.

A real man’s influence comes from the gravity of what he has to say and the character he has built over time. He lets his words stand on their own merit without resorting to amplifying his volume and furrowing his eyebrows to get his point across.

A real man knows that to raise his voice in anger, is to lose control of his emotions. When a man loses control of his emotions, his emotions then control him, and a real man is not controlled by his emotions. A real man realizes that screaming or yelling in anger or to get a point across is the vice of the emotionally weak. He is not afraid to express his emotions, but he is not controlled by them. A real man knows that yelling, though somewhat instinctive, is reactive and a real man rarely reacts… a real man acts with intention.

A real man knows that he when he raises his voice, people often tune him out and miss his message. And yet, the opposite happens when his voice is calm, cool, and collected. He finds that other people actually begin to lean in closer to hear what he has to say. They tune into his message and (if what he’s trying to convey has merit) he is able to persuade or influence them appropriately.

A real man sees that yelling as a form of persuasion or influence simply does not work. Not only that, but he also realizes that his yelling gives everyone around him a headache and makes him feel incompetent. Continue reading N.U.T. #5 – I don’t raise my voice in anger.

On the Horizon: A Sad Symptom

As I write, medical examiners have yet to release the official cause of death for University of Oklahoma football player Austin Box.   According to El Reno Police, a friend who lived with the 22 year-old found him unresponsive and believed he had overdosed on prescription pain pills.  In a 911 recording, the roommate said Box takes pain pills and he’s not responding to me.

If true, it’s just the latest sad incident in a troubling trend: the misuse of prescription medication, whether intentionally or accidentally.  Former OSU basketball coach Sean Sutton plead guilty last year for illegally obtaining pain pills that he began taking after a back surgery then to which he subsequently became addicted.

Box played a brutal sport that requires unusual physical and mental toughness.  The demands often require playing through pain and sometimes even injury.  I worry that in our attempts to explain such a tragic loss of life, we focus on the symptoms and not the wider disease.  Prescription medications are just as addictive as anything purchased from a seedy street corner.  According to law-enforcement, prescription painkillers rank second behind marijuana as the country’s most common illegal-drug problem.  Today we begin a multiple-part video post about a growing problem that cuts across all age groups and economic classes.

Rob

 

Prescription Addiction from Alisa Hines on Vimeo.

My Little Victory Garden: Strawberries, Chard, Al Fresco Dining…Ahhh.

Last week I left you with the tag line, “California strawberries are for shipping, Oklahoma strawberries are for eating.”  I had at that point two very full quarts of Oklahoma strawberries from the Urban Agrarian sitting in my refrigerator and my family had been enjoying…berries with creme fraiche, strawberries with homemade pound cake, berries with whipped creme and cookies, berries with breakfast, and – well, you name it.  It seemed that every time I walked by the kitchen my feet would take over my body searching for berries, my arms would shoot out from my sides to open the refrigerator, and my hands would grab a strawberry then hurl it toward my mouth. Bliss.

I just love Oklahoma strawberries.

Unfortunately, my shipment from the Food Coop this week came in damaged.  They were already in a severe state of atrophy and I only saved about half from one container, less from the other.  So I put them with some friends: my first rhubarb harvest this year.  I whipped up a quick compote and my family ate it all on homemade buttermilk biscuits. So, THAT was a melt-in-your-mouth experience. Continue reading My Little Victory Garden: Strawberries, Chard, Al Fresco Dining…Ahhh.

Red Dirt Rambler: Eighty Years of Osage Wisdom in a Thirty Minute Encounter

I walked into the museum and was greeted by her.  She sat at the desk, surrounded by busts of ancient Osage warriors, maps, artifacts and tribal dress displayed in glass cases.  “Do you have any questions?” she asked.  “No,” I replied.  “Not yet.”  I made my way to the corner case and began mentally walking through Osage history. The voices of other visitors began to seep through my mental fog and I adjusted my angle to take on a better view.  I gathered that stories were being told and wanted to hear them.

I glanced at her again as she sat behind her desk.  She watched quietly as two aging white men seated on benches in the middle of the room leaned in to hear stories from the middle-aged Osage they had met in the museum.  The Osage was seated on a second bench near them and was carrying two pieces of lumber. One of the white men clutched a knotted piece of Cyprus wood that had been polished by man or by Time, while the other held two books on his lap.  The Osage was saying, “In order for children to properly speak the language, their pallets have to be broken.  I remember my grandmother reaching her thumb up into my mouth.  It hurt, but the pressure of her grip helped me bear the pain.” Continue reading Red Dirt Rambler: Eighty Years of Osage Wisdom in a Thirty Minute Encounter

Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: A RE-Purposeful Life

Trailer of trash

Our pile of junk had been sitting in the pasture for seven years.  It was a mixture of plastic, metal, and old wooden posts from a variety of sources around the ranch.  It had evolved over time.  If we needed a certain material for a project, the junk pile would be our first place to look to see what we could use out of it. Once I found an old door that we installed on the goat shed when we created a room addition for our new baby goats.  I still remember the thumbs up my father-in-law gave me when I propped it up for him to see.  Unfortunately,  I noticed the goats and horses spending a lot of time close to the pile, and I worried that one of them would get tangled up in something and hurt.  It was time to take this pile of treasure to the landfill.

We hooked up the trailer and started loading the accumulation of seven years of destruction.  Mixed into the pieces of roofing, gutters, batteries, and brass candlesticks were landscape timbers that had been used for a small round pen built by my father-in-law in 1997.  Hmmmm. Why had he used landscape timbers for a fence instead of fence posts?  Had they been left by someone else?  I was intrigued.  Even though it was time consuming, I removed only the staples that held the remaining fence in place, put the old fence on the trailer, and set the wood aside.  It took quite a bit of time and effort, but I loved the idea of salvaging one last repurposed item from the pile.  Transport heavy equipment easily with our spacious 14ft utility trailer.
Continue reading Meanwhile, Back at The Ranch: A RE-Purposeful Life

Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make a Deal, Pt. 2

Peter was shocked; he was insulted. He protested the notion that he would EVER deny his Lord. Jesus rightly predicted Peter’s infidelity. Jesus knew Peter much better than this famous disciple knew himself.

“Lord, I would never do such a thing,” Peter objected.

Jesus calmly replied, “Not only will you deny me once, but you’ll deny me three times.” And Jesus said it would happen before the rooster was well into his morning.

Good Intentions

The thing is, most of us have good intentions. Whether to read the bible more, attend church more regularly, or to start exercising, the spirit is willing.

I’m not going to cuss and no more throwing my golf clubs; I’m nixing the desserts and I’ll stop saying negative things about anybody. It’s the right idea and a great plan. Jesus looks at us, smiles and says, “Grace to you.” I know this. He continually extends that portion to me.

The Barber’s Son and The Deal

On the main street of our little town, all the businesses were owned by our friends and neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Elliot opened and closed Elliot’s Department store. We purchased our jeans and underwear there. Mr. and Mrs. Hodge operated Hodge’s Grocery Store. He was in the back working as the butcher and she at the counter smiling and saying, “Thank you for coming in.”

We had Evan’s Drugstore, Inman’s Variety Store, Swanda’s Insurance, Lynch’s Western Store, Malone Ford, Kardokus Implements and perhaps the quintessential period piece general store, Levite’s. I can still recall the family names of gas station proprietors. And my favorite spot just a few doors up from Caldwell’s Barber Shop —- George’s Pool Hall. Continue reading Barbershop Theology: Let’s Make a Deal, Pt. 2

Giving Back With Golf

 

Four years ago, Major Dan Rooney was on a commercial flight shortly after finishing his second of three tours of duty in Iraq.  As the plane touched down, the pilot made an announcement.  “Ladies and gentleman, we have an American hero on board – Corporal Brock Bucklin – and his brother, Corporal Brad Bucklin, is accompanying him home from Iraq.  As a sign of respect, please remain seated while Corporal Bucklin’s family receives him in his final homecoming.”

Rooney, an F-16 pilot with the Oklahoma Air National Guard, looked out the window as a casket was carried off the plane.  Behind a fence just beyond the tarmac, Rooney could see Corporal Bucklin’s family members and a four-year old boy who would grow up without a father.

Every passenger on that flight was moved by what they witnessed, but Major Rooney was also inspired.  He couldn’t get the image of that little boy out of his head.

Back home in Broken Arrow, Major Rooney decided something had to be done to help the children of America’s fallen soldiers.  He founded a charity called the Folds of Honor Foundation with the aim of providing college scholarships to the spouses and children of service members disabled or killed as a result of their sacrifice to our nation.  Rooney chose the name to represent the 13 folds that form the triangle shape of an American flag that is folded at a soldier’s funeral.  Corporal Bucklin’s son, Jacob, received the very first Folds of Honor scholarship.  Four years later, the Folds of Honor Foundation has awarded 2,000 scholarships and raised $8.5 million for the dependents of America’s fallen and disabled soldiers.

Continue reading Giving Back With Golf

Literary Landmark–Wilson Rawls

I love my job.  Every week I get to meet people who know significantly more about something than I do.  I once heard Bill Moyers liken it to walking on the shores of others’ oceans of knowledge.  That is why in 2005 we started a PBS television show called Oklahoma Horizon,  to discuss the issues and visit the places that give our viewers context to our changing world.  From an awful time slot on a single station, we have grown into a show now seen in 40 million homes across the U.S. and in 17 countries around the world.

The stories we tell from week to week will range from economic and social trends to just plain ole feel good stories about life in a state we all love and want to see be the very best.  This week we begin our postings with a story about a story.

Native American legend has it that a very long time ago, a little boy and girl were wondering through the Cherokee Hills when they were caught in a blizzard.  It was not until the following spring their bodies were found lying next to each other, their hands still clasped together.  Between the two little ones, an unusual red fern had sprouted, leaning its vast shade over the two tiny bodies.  It is a legend that influenced an Oklahoma boy to start writing stories he wanted to read and eventually pen the classic “Where the Red Fern Grows.”  We debut our Red Dirt Chronicles blog with a video trip to Tahlequah, Oklahoma to visit the festival that honors Oklahoma author Wilson Rawls.

Rob McClendon

 

Literary Landmark–Where The Red Fern Grows from Alisa Hines on Vimeo.

Three Laughs with the Wizard of Oz: A Profile of Bob Waldrop

Editor’s Note – Today across Oklahoma, thousands of citizens are picking up their Oklahoma Food Cooperative orders.  They’ll be assisted by hundreds of volunteers to pick and check their orders from producers all over the state.  We’re re-running this essay we posted last October as a reminder to consider joining this highly positive system of sustainability in Oklahoma.  Later today, we’ll introduce you to a Storm Tracker and his life. Have a wonderful day ~ The Editor

Bob Waldrop - Photo borrowed from his Facebook page with permission.

I recently ran into someone who went to church where Bob Waldrop serves as the Director of Music.  When his name came up they responded, “Oh, yeah…we know him.  We call him the Great and Powerful Oz.  That guy really is something else.”  They laughed and I joined them.  I joined them for the same reason that anyone would join in a joke:  because it was true.  I had never put my finger on a description that fit this man, but people within his congregation at the Church of the Epiphany had summed it up in one phrase.

“The Wizard of Oz” was a character who was revered, feared, was a mystery and who people thought might just have the answers or solutions to every problem they carried with them.  However, the Wizard ended up being a down to earth human being who had done the best he could to build an idea from which hundreds and possibly thousands of people had benefited.  He also, however, contained the notions and practicality of finding virtues in those who sought him out; he was able to pass along something of value to them so that they believed in themselves…and in something bigger than themselves.  Yes, Bob was Oz. Continue reading Three Laughs with the Wizard of Oz: A Profile of Bob Waldrop