2009-Armarillo and Oklahoma City
July 11, 2009
Well we are finally on the road. As I write this we are on Highway 287 in between Limon and Hugo, CO. Limon was our first of several pit stops today. “We” is me, my wife, Margo, her mother, Patty, and Margo’s sister, Jackie. Getting here has been quite the story. Originally, we were supposed to have left for this vacation (Amarillo, TX and Oklahoma City, OK) a month ago. But, my Mom had her second bypass surgery on June 8th. I won't get into the whole long story, but suffice to say, that there was no way I was going to leave town with Mom in hospital. She is out of the hospital, and in a rehab facility. She doesn't want me to put this trip off any longer on her account so, we are on our way.
Truthfully, I could have put this off a little while longer, for another reason. We are travelling to Amarillo because it is Margo's Aunt Murrell's 85th birthday. My gift to her was a family history I have working on for months. I got it mostly completed and my computer crashed. Luckily I had it backed up. But, this created a variety of problems. I was able to overcome them and I managed to get two copies of the Alexander family history printed. I hope Aunt Murrell likes it.
But, I digress. Back to the trip. Truthfully, I am not one of those who believe that “Getting there is half the fun”. Getting there is the penance you pay for your trip. So, as Margo is driving, I will look for things to amuse myself until our next pit stop.
I figured that we would make it as far as Lamar, CO before we stopped again. We rarely travel more than two hours in the car before we stop to stretch our legs. I don’t mind. I hate being cooped up in a car, and stopping gives you a chance to stretch your legs and break up the monotony. These stops will end up adding about an hour to travel time today, but I think it is time well spent.
We didn’t quite make it to Lamar. We came up about 15 miles short, when a full bladder dictated a stop in Wiley, CO. I have not looked, but I will bet that Wiley does not have a blog, picture, or description in Travbuddy. They will now, but I am not sure how proud the 100 or so citizens will be should they stumble across this.
We stopped at the Wiley “C” Store on Highway 287. It is a nice little shop, in a building at least 50 years old. It was fairly clean and the lady working the counter greeted us and was friendly. The ladies took care of business while I doddled, looking at snacks. By the time I got around to the bathroom, the others were done and heading back to the car with their snacks. But, our departure had to be delay while I went back into the store to take a picture of the sign I saw inside the restroom. This was the best laugh I had on the whole trip!
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We resumed our trip with a full tank of gas and fortified with sugar and caffeine. I was hoping for two hours worth of travel time before our next stop. We made about an hour 45 minutes before we stopped in Boise City, OK.
En route we had passed through Springfield, CO. I had been curious about Springfield for several months now. I had a cousin (Sharon Mildenberger Frazier) who died this spring from breast cancer. She died in Springfield, in some sort of clinic that specialized in that disease. At least that was my understanding. I thought it very unusual to have a specialized clinic in such an out of the way place.
Springfield is located in the south east corner of Colorado and is the county seat of Baca County. Highway 287, which we were traveling on runs right though it. We did not stop, and I did not see a sign or any building that would suggest a cancer clinic. It looked like any number of small Dust Bowl towns we passed though. Lots of closed businesses. Lot of pick up trucks, and not very many people. Perhaps the 100 degree heat was a factor in that last part.
As mentioned we continued on to Boise City, OK. I later found out that Boise means “tree” and that when the town was plotted and those lots were being hawked to people looking to settle there, they claimed that it was a very scenic area with lots of trees. In truth there was nothing, literally nothing, but mile after mile of sod grass and plains. But those Okies are tough and they carved out a nice little town in the panhandle.
The thing that got our attention was their traffic circle. Those are rare enough in the west, and seeing one in Oklahoma was a bit of a shock. But, it worked very well allowing the considerable long haul truck traffic easy access and their choice of turnoffs.
After getting through the traffic circle in Boise City, we were now just two hours from Amarillo. Our ETA was 2:15 PM CDT. We had left Brighton at 5:30 AM, MDT. That worked out to nearly 8 hours of driving and an hour time change. Fun stuff.
En route we had passed through Springfield, CO. I had been curious about Springfield for several months now. I had a cousin (Sharon Mildenberger Frazier) who died this spring from breast cancer. She died in Springfield, in some sort of clinic that specialized in that disease. At least that was my understanding. I thought it very unusual to have a specialized clinic in such an out of the way place.
Springfield is located in the south east corner of Colorado and is the county seat of Baca County. Highway 287, which we were traveling on runs right though it. We did not stop, and I did not see a sign or any building that would suggest a cancer clinic. It looked like any number of small Dust Bowl towns we passed though. Lots of closed businesses. Lot of pick up trucks, and not very many people. Perhaps the 100 degree heat was a factor in that last part.
As mentioned we continued on to Boise City, OK. I later found out that Boise means “tree” and that when the town was plotted and those lots were being hawked to people looking to settle there, they claimed that it was a very scenic area with lots of trees. In truth there was nothing, literally nothing, but mile after mile of sod grass and plains. But those Okies are tough and they carved out a nice little town in the panhandle.
The thing that got our attention was their traffic circle. Those are rare enough in the west, and seeing one in Oklahoma was a bit of a shock. But, it worked very well allowing the considerable long haul truck traffic easy access and their choice of turnoffs.
After getting through the traffic circle in Boise City, we were now just two hours from Amarillo. Our ETA was 2:15 PM CDT. We had left Brighton at 5:30 AM, MDT. That worked out to nearly 8 hours of driving and an hour time change. Fun stuff.
Jackie
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Margo
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We checked into our hotel, the TraveLodge West, and settled in quickly. Margo and I had a room, and Jackie and Patty had their own. We basically just dropped off the luggage and climbed back into the car. Aunt Murrel and family had a barbeque planned for us when we arrived, and we didn’t want to keep them waiting. Besides, despite our snacks, we were starting to get hungry.
It should have been a ten minute drive to Aunt Murrel’s, but our GPS insisted on taking us through Amarillo, instead of jumping on I-40. We followed it, just this once to see if maybe this way was faster. It wasn’t, but it got us there, and we were soon walking though the door.
We were greeted enthusiastically by everyone, and after a few “How was the drive?” and “Are you hungry?” we settled into some chairs for some visiting. Aunt Murrel asked if they had been treating me right, referring to Margo and Patty. I told her that they had been mean to be the whole time. She said she would be speaking to them. She is a pistol. The last time we saw Aunt Murrel was 4 years ago, and her mind was sharp as a tack. She hadn’t lost much.
Not long after sitting down, Margo presented Aunt Murrel with her late birthday present. We were supposed to have been in Texas a month ago, when Aunt Murrel actually turned 85. But, because of Mom’s condition we postponed the trip for four weeks. But the tardiness of her present did not diminish her joy in getting it. She more than thrilled to get the finished copy of the book on her side of the family.
I brought two copies, which was all that I had time to print, and everyone had a chance to look through them. Aunt Murrel took her copy to her bedroom, so she could keep reading it that evening, and because she didn’t want it to get borrowed. I was happy to see how much she and everyone else were enjoying it.
We were soon eating and visiting. We got caught up on the latest news on the Amarillo branch of the family, and we passed along the news from Colorado. The hours flew by quickly and before we knew it, it was dark. It had been a long day, and 10 PM seemed like the right time to go back to the hotel. We promised to be back in the morning, but warned them not to expect us for breakfast. Margo and I were definitely sleeping in.
It should have been a ten minute drive to Aunt Murrel’s, but our GPS insisted on taking us through Amarillo, instead of jumping on I-40. We followed it, just this once to see if maybe this way was faster. It wasn’t, but it got us there, and we were soon walking though the door.
We were greeted enthusiastically by everyone, and after a few “How was the drive?” and “Are you hungry?” we settled into some chairs for some visiting. Aunt Murrel asked if they had been treating me right, referring to Margo and Patty. I told her that they had been mean to be the whole time. She said she would be speaking to them. She is a pistol. The last time we saw Aunt Murrel was 4 years ago, and her mind was sharp as a tack. She hadn’t lost much.
Not long after sitting down, Margo presented Aunt Murrel with her late birthday present. We were supposed to have been in Texas a month ago, when Aunt Murrel actually turned 85. But, because of Mom’s condition we postponed the trip for four weeks. But the tardiness of her present did not diminish her joy in getting it. She more than thrilled to get the finished copy of the book on her side of the family.
I brought two copies, which was all that I had time to print, and everyone had a chance to look through them. Aunt Murrel took her copy to her bedroom, so she could keep reading it that evening, and because she didn’t want it to get borrowed. I was happy to see how much she and everyone else were enjoying it.
We were soon eating and visiting. We got caught up on the latest news on the Amarillo branch of the family, and we passed along the news from Colorado. The hours flew by quickly and before we knew it, it was dark. It had been a long day, and 10 PM seemed like the right time to go back to the hotel. We promised to be back in the morning, but warned them not to expect us for breakfast. Margo and I were definitely sleeping in.
Margo's Mom, Patty and Patty's cousin,, Shirley
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July 12, 2009
Today we had one item on our agenda; Visit with Aunt Murrel. When we were originally scheduled to be here last month, today would have been Aunt Murrel’s actual 85th birthday. We had originally planned to visit with her all day, and that had not changed
One thing that had changed was Patty and Jackie’s residency. They were staying in a hotel; because Aunt Murrel’s spare room was to have been occupied by another out of town guest. Well, she canceled. No one told us, so Patty and Jackie paid for a room that they didn’t need to. Margo and I almost never stay with family. It’s not that we don’t like them, but we don’t want to put them out, and we don’t want to burden them if we stay up until midnight unwinding, or taking care of our nightly financial ritual.
I have a budget for my trips and I track the expenses. I budget so much for food, attractions, hotel, car, and souvenir. I over budget so we generally don’t worry about what we spend, with in reason of course. It’s no fun worrying about money when you travel. But, at the end of the night I count cash, input our daily purchases, and obtain verification that all is right in the world. I’m sure this wouldn’t work for a lot of people, but it works for me, and has for the past 15 years.
We got to Aunt Murrel’s sometime in the 10 o’clock hour. We were pretty well rested and we plopped down in seats and passed several hours just reminiscing and telling stories. We traded gossip from Colorado for gossip in the Texas Panhandle. The time went surprisingly fast. Aunt Murrel has a gift for talking. When one conversational subject is exhausted, she comes up with another. There is not much dead time.
Everybody was scheduled to arrive for the Bar B Q around 5 PM. Three of Aunt Murrel’s children arrived. The other two were mad about something, and did not come. Of course we were filled into as why, but that is not something I am going to post. I think the bottom line is when your mother has her 85th birthday celebration you should find a reason to be there, not a reason to stay away.
I mingled a bit, ate too much, listened more than I talked, and took quite a few pictures. But, as this is a travel blog, and not a family narrative, I’ll keep those to a minimum as well. We stayed around until about 10 PM that night. Aunt Murrel usually went to bed much earlier, but she was completely enjoying the company. She would have stayed up and talked all night, if someone would visit with her. That wasn’t in the cards. Everyone was tired. Tomorrow was another day and we wanted to get a reasonably early start. We said our good bys and left for the hotel.
One thing that had changed was Patty and Jackie’s residency. They were staying in a hotel; because Aunt Murrel’s spare room was to have been occupied by another out of town guest. Well, she canceled. No one told us, so Patty and Jackie paid for a room that they didn’t need to. Margo and I almost never stay with family. It’s not that we don’t like them, but we don’t want to put them out, and we don’t want to burden them if we stay up until midnight unwinding, or taking care of our nightly financial ritual.
I have a budget for my trips and I track the expenses. I budget so much for food, attractions, hotel, car, and souvenir. I over budget so we generally don’t worry about what we spend, with in reason of course. It’s no fun worrying about money when you travel. But, at the end of the night I count cash, input our daily purchases, and obtain verification that all is right in the world. I’m sure this wouldn’t work for a lot of people, but it works for me, and has for the past 15 years.
We got to Aunt Murrel’s sometime in the 10 o’clock hour. We were pretty well rested and we plopped down in seats and passed several hours just reminiscing and telling stories. We traded gossip from Colorado for gossip in the Texas Panhandle. The time went surprisingly fast. Aunt Murrel has a gift for talking. When one conversational subject is exhausted, she comes up with another. There is not much dead time.
Everybody was scheduled to arrive for the Bar B Q around 5 PM. Three of Aunt Murrel’s children arrived. The other two were mad about something, and did not come. Of course we were filled into as why, but that is not something I am going to post. I think the bottom line is when your mother has her 85th birthday celebration you should find a reason to be there, not a reason to stay away.
I mingled a bit, ate too much, listened more than I talked, and took quite a few pictures. But, as this is a travel blog, and not a family narrative, I’ll keep those to a minimum as well. We stayed around until about 10 PM that night. Aunt Murrel usually went to bed much earlier, but she was completely enjoying the company. She would have stayed up and talked all night, if someone would visit with her. That wasn’t in the cards. Everyone was tired. Tomorrow was another day and we wanted to get a reasonably early start. We said our good bys and left for the hotel.
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July 13, 2009
This is my third trip to Amarillo. On the previous two trips (2004 & 2005), we mostly visited with Aunt Murrel. We spent a few hours at Wonderland Park and 10 minutes at the Cadillac Ranch, but I never felt like we did much. So this time, even though we had only a single day, I wanted to see some of the city. Lunch at Hooters was a must. Then we would do the Cadillac Ranch again, but this time we would be prepared. I wanted to see the shops on old Route 66, and a dinner at the Big Texan was something I had wanted to do for quite some time.
We wanted to get a reasonably early start this Monday morning, to beat the heat. Aunt Murrel had told us that up until we had arrived, this had been a mild summer. But, we had seen 100 highs both days we had been in Amarillo, so far. Today was not supposed to be an exception. But, the need to beat the heat had to compete with the desire to sleep. It was an epic struggle, in which neither side won. We were up about 8:30 AM. Not exactly a late morning, but with a leisurely shower and such, we did not get over to Aunt Murrel’s until nearly 10 AM.
Patty and Jackie had moved to Aunt Murrel’s last night, and while Patty would not be going with us, Jackie wanted to. So after a brief stop at Aunt Murrel’s we were on our way to the Cadillac Ranch.
We wanted to get a reasonably early start this Monday morning, to beat the heat. Aunt Murrel had told us that up until we had arrived, this had been a mild summer. But, we had seen 100 highs both days we had been in Amarillo, so far. Today was not supposed to be an exception. But, the need to beat the heat had to compete with the desire to sleep. It was an epic struggle, in which neither side won. We were up about 8:30 AM. Not exactly a late morning, but with a leisurely shower and such, we did not get over to Aunt Murrel’s until nearly 10 AM.
Patty and Jackie had moved to Aunt Murrel’s last night, and while Patty would not be going with us, Jackie wanted to. So after a brief stop at Aunt Murrel’s we were on our way to the Cadillac Ranch.
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Margo had gotten me a GPS Navigational device for Christmas. I absolutely love my TomTom. I added some alternate voices. My favorite is Mullet Man, a West Virginia redneck, who adds some color to the directions. I had preprogrammed all of our destinations into the device before we left, and it was working with only minor hiccups. I brought along maps and addresses as a back up, but we had not had to rely on them.
Anyway, Mullet Man guided us west of town, on the frontage road along I-40. We saw a group of cars pulled over for seemingly no reason, so we knew this must be it. The Cadillac Ranch is ten vintage Cadillac cars, that have been buried, nose down, into an Amarillo field. This was done at the behest of helium magnate and local eccentric Stanley March 3 (not III). He just likes to do odd things, and this qualifies. Perhaps even more eccentric than the modern art itself is the fact that Mr. Marsh encourages the sculpture to be painted by those who visit. This fact was not clear to us, when we made our last visit. This time we brought paint.
The Cadillacs are located a couple of hundred yards off the road. We parked, retrieved our paint (Pink, Green, and Black) and made our way to the cars. The wind was really blowing and we were more than a little concerned that we would not be able to add our mark to the hundreds of layers of paint already there. But, we soon found that if we went on the back side, we had enough of a wind shadow to begin working.
I emptied the first can of pink on one car, to give us a clean background. Pink is my youngest daughter’s favorite color, and Bruce Springsteen had already endorsed my choice. It was a little slow going. I had to fight the wind, and I couldn’t effectively reach high enough to do the top of the car. Neither I, nor anyone else wanted to get on their knees to do the bottom either. So, a mostly pink Cadillac was going to have to do. Once finished, we used the black to return what was left of the tire to an imitation of new. Then with the black and green we added our names, plus Jessi’s. A couple nearby took a group picture.
Margo and Jackie had gone off to another car while I did my combination of defacement and art. They had decided that they would climb into one of the cars and take a few pictures there. They called me over and I got in on the act, too. After the pictures, that was pretty much it. There is only so much you can do. As we were leaving we picked out a group that was just arriving, that had kids, and offered them our leftover paint. I’m sure they had fun and added to the memory of their vacation as well. That was our good deed for the day.
Anyway, Mullet Man guided us west of town, on the frontage road along I-40. We saw a group of cars pulled over for seemingly no reason, so we knew this must be it. The Cadillac Ranch is ten vintage Cadillac cars, that have been buried, nose down, into an Amarillo field. This was done at the behest of helium magnate and local eccentric Stanley March 3 (not III). He just likes to do odd things, and this qualifies. Perhaps even more eccentric than the modern art itself is the fact that Mr. Marsh encourages the sculpture to be painted by those who visit. This fact was not clear to us, when we made our last visit. This time we brought paint.
The Cadillacs are located a couple of hundred yards off the road. We parked, retrieved our paint (Pink, Green, and Black) and made our way to the cars. The wind was really blowing and we were more than a little concerned that we would not be able to add our mark to the hundreds of layers of paint already there. But, we soon found that if we went on the back side, we had enough of a wind shadow to begin working.
I emptied the first can of pink on one car, to give us a clean background. Pink is my youngest daughter’s favorite color, and Bruce Springsteen had already endorsed my choice. It was a little slow going. I had to fight the wind, and I couldn’t effectively reach high enough to do the top of the car. Neither I, nor anyone else wanted to get on their knees to do the bottom either. So, a mostly pink Cadillac was going to have to do. Once finished, we used the black to return what was left of the tire to an imitation of new. Then with the black and green we added our names, plus Jessi’s. A couple nearby took a group picture.
Margo and Jackie had gone off to another car while I did my combination of defacement and art. They had decided that they would climb into one of the cars and take a few pictures there. They called me over and I got in on the act, too. After the pictures, that was pretty much it. There is only so much you can do. As we were leaving we picked out a group that was just arriving, that had kids, and offered them our leftover paint. I’m sure they had fun and added to the memory of their vacation as well. That was our good deed for the day.
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With the glow of our good deed spurring us on, we headed east to partake of a reward. Well, it would be a reward for me anyway. It was time for lunch at the Amarillo Hooters
The Amarillo Hooters is located just off of I-40 just a few miles from the Cadillac Ranch. It only took about ten minutes, including parking, to get there. I stopped to take a couple of pictures of the outside, with this blog in mind. It was at this point that I encountered the first of many of Amarillo’s Painted Horses.
Amarillo’s Painted Horses (Officially the project is called Hoof Prints of the Great American Quarter Horse. But who in their right mind would actually utter that as part of sentence, let alone try to remember it. But, I do try to be accurate) is a public art project sponsor by Center City (kinda of the downtown Amarillo Chamber of Commerce). Center City sells these life size horse statues to local businesses to raise money for various Center City projects. The horses cost $3500 and included an artist to decorate the horse to suit the business. Hooters-Amarillo had theirs painted to be an equestrian Hooters Girl, complete with white shoes, lipstick and a Hooters tank top. Margo took my picture with the horse.
We went in and ordered our lunch. As I was on vacation, and Alan Jackson had proclaimed that it was 5 o’ clock somewhere, I had a couple of beers to go with it. I wrote a more detailed blog about our visit, so I won’t rehash it here. But as usual, we had a good time, I got a picture with the girls, and Jessi got her Hooterswear.
Last on our list of things to do today, was to tour the old Route 66 area. I wanted to find a t-shirt shop for a Route 66 tee. This is part of City Center, so I had expectations of something to see or do. Old shops. New shops. Revived tourist trap. I would have been happy with kitschy or touristy. But, we found nothing. We must have missed the shops and restaurants. All we saw were some businesses, mostly on the seedy and rundown side. Oh, well. We had a Plan B. Directly behind Hooters, was the Westgate Mall. This had two things we wanted. First, there were real shops to look around at. Second, it was air conditioned. As it was now well into mid-afternoon, the temp outside was into triple digits. That is too hot to wander shops. You risk melting and becoming a public nuisances.
Our shopping trip ended with me purchasing a media card reader and not finding anything touristy to buy as a souvenir. What is wrong with this place? Would we have to try Wal-mart? We did and struck out there, too. I was reasonably (I thought) expecting to find a Route 66 tee shirt or something along that line. Nope. Nothing. Nada. It was nearing dinner time, so we admitted defeat and headed back to Aunt Murrel’s.
I had invited Aunt Murrel and Wonda Carol out to dinner tonight. The last thing on my Amarillo list, for this trip, was to eat dinner at The Big Texan, and tonight was the night. In the morning Margo and I would be heading east to OKC, so tonight we would all go out and give Aunt Murrel and Wonda Carol a break from cooking for us.
It was about a fifteen minute drive to the Big Texan, and it looked just like its pictures. It looked a tad run down and in need of paint. There was very a kitschy (never used that word before and now it has come up twice in the same blog) hotel off to the east of the restaurant. I already knew it belonged to the Big Texan. As we pulled in we noticed their limousine pull out. I’m sure it was going to be used to ferry a car load of customers back to the feast. We didn’t make a reservation, and it wasn’t needed. They were no where near capacity.
The Amarillo Hooters is located just off of I-40 just a few miles from the Cadillac Ranch. It only took about ten minutes, including parking, to get there. I stopped to take a couple of pictures of the outside, with this blog in mind. It was at this point that I encountered the first of many of Amarillo’s Painted Horses.
Amarillo’s Painted Horses (Officially the project is called Hoof Prints of the Great American Quarter Horse. But who in their right mind would actually utter that as part of sentence, let alone try to remember it. But, I do try to be accurate) is a public art project sponsor by Center City (kinda of the downtown Amarillo Chamber of Commerce). Center City sells these life size horse statues to local businesses to raise money for various Center City projects. The horses cost $3500 and included an artist to decorate the horse to suit the business. Hooters-Amarillo had theirs painted to be an equestrian Hooters Girl, complete with white shoes, lipstick and a Hooters tank top. Margo took my picture with the horse.
We went in and ordered our lunch. As I was on vacation, and Alan Jackson had proclaimed that it was 5 o’ clock somewhere, I had a couple of beers to go with it. I wrote a more detailed blog about our visit, so I won’t rehash it here. But as usual, we had a good time, I got a picture with the girls, and Jessi got her Hooterswear.
Last on our list of things to do today, was to tour the old Route 66 area. I wanted to find a t-shirt shop for a Route 66 tee. This is part of City Center, so I had expectations of something to see or do. Old shops. New shops. Revived tourist trap. I would have been happy with kitschy or touristy. But, we found nothing. We must have missed the shops and restaurants. All we saw were some businesses, mostly on the seedy and rundown side. Oh, well. We had a Plan B. Directly behind Hooters, was the Westgate Mall. This had two things we wanted. First, there were real shops to look around at. Second, it was air conditioned. As it was now well into mid-afternoon, the temp outside was into triple digits. That is too hot to wander shops. You risk melting and becoming a public nuisances.
Our shopping trip ended with me purchasing a media card reader and not finding anything touristy to buy as a souvenir. What is wrong with this place? Would we have to try Wal-mart? We did and struck out there, too. I was reasonably (I thought) expecting to find a Route 66 tee shirt or something along that line. Nope. Nothing. Nada. It was nearing dinner time, so we admitted defeat and headed back to Aunt Murrel’s.
I had invited Aunt Murrel and Wonda Carol out to dinner tonight. The last thing on my Amarillo list, for this trip, was to eat dinner at The Big Texan, and tonight was the night. In the morning Margo and I would be heading east to OKC, so tonight we would all go out and give Aunt Murrel and Wonda Carol a break from cooking for us.
It was about a fifteen minute drive to the Big Texan, and it looked just like its pictures. It looked a tad run down and in need of paint. There was very a kitschy (never used that word before and now it has come up twice in the same blog) hotel off to the east of the restaurant. I already knew it belonged to the Big Texan. As we pulled in we noticed their limousine pull out. I’m sure it was going to be used to ferry a car load of customers back to the feast. We didn’t make a reservation, and it wasn’t needed. They were no where near capacity.
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We were seated and the first thing I noticed was the dozens of animal heads around the balustrade above. Someone was a hunter. Big surprise in Texas. The second thing I noticed was an elevated platform, with a table and a timer. I already knew what this was for. The Big Texan has been featured on the Food Network for its eating challenge. Eat their 72oz (that’s 4 ½ lbs!) steak, and all the trimmings in under an hour, and it’s free! I like to eat and I have healthy appetite, but you have to be borderline insane to do this. Yet, I saw a sign listing the 9 people who had not only taken the challenge, but succeeded so far in 2009. Two of them did it half the allotted time!
We ate our dinner, shepherded by a little too helpful waiter. He was obviously mining for tips, and as we were a party of 6, he had 18% added automatically to the tab. I didn’t object, as he did do a decent job. He also volunteered to take our group photo, when he saw me trying to take one.
Once we were done we decided to wander over to their gift shop. The Big Texan is geared to the tourist. Today, I was most definitely a tourist. I was pleasantly surprised to see plenty of Route 66 stuff. I ended up with a Route 66 replica sign for Jessi’s boyfriend, Pete and my own Route 66 tee shirt. Margo got a Route 66 cookbook. She must have twenty different cookbooks from our various travels. But, I budget money on these trip for these trinkets, treasures, and trash, so what the hell.
We finished up with a trip to the restroom Not exactly a noteworthy occurrence, but the hall was lined with these changeable photos. When you would look at them from one angle they looked like a picture of taken at the turn of the century (19th to 20th. No, I don’t feel old at all having to specify what century I am taking about). But, when you would take a step it would change to something out of a Roger Corman (look it up, whippersnappers) film. Margo took pictures of a few of them, and we were soon on our way back to Aunt Murrel’s
We visited with Aunt Murrel until it was well past 10 o’clock. If we had not been in town Aunt Murrel would have been in bed hours before that. But, she genuinely enjoyed our company, telling us so on several occasions, so she happily talked about old times, new times, politics (Not an Obama fan. We got along fine), or whatever else pops into her head. But, we knew she needed rest, so Margo and I make our excuses and left somewhere around 10:30 PM. In the morning we would be heading east, to Oklahoma City.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The plan was to be on the road by 8 AM, and drive four hours. By noon we would be in Oklahoma City. We would spend the afternoon touring Bricktown, seeing the shops, eating at Hooters, and riding the canal boats.
We were on the road more like 8:30 AM, after first stopping at Aunt Murrel’s to tell everyone good bye. We would be back on Thursday night, but we still needed to say good bye. We had no intention of stopping more than once between Amarillo and OKC. We had filled up and should be able to make it easily on a single tank. One stop along the way to stretch our legs should be fine.
Our plan lasted for about 40 minutes. After 40 minutes we were in the middle of the Texan Panhandle. Lots of nothing for miles around. But then, we spied a water tower that looked like it was about to fall over. One leg appeared to be sunk into the ground, and was challenging Sir Isaac Newton to a death match. I was sure that soon the seemingly abandoned water tower would be lying on the ground, awaiting the junk man.
As it turns out, this is the famous Leaning Tower of Texas. A water tower purposefully built to lean. It was built after I-40 had bypassed Groom, Texas, which sat right on Old Route 66. The tower was supposed to get folks to stop at Groom. I have no idea if it worked then or now. I didn’t see anything else around it, so I decided against pulling over. I even failed to get a picture.
Howeer, we had also noticed a very large cross out in the distance, for about the last 5 miles. As it got closer and closer, I knew we had to stop to at least take a picture and hopefully find out something about it.
We exited not long after the Leaning Tower and started to drive down the road towards the cross. They, (whoever “they” is) looked to be either building or adding on to a large church. But, we didn’t drive all the way to it. The cross was so large that to get a picture you had to be quite a ways from it. The builders knew this, and had put a message box along the road with some literature about the cross. I grabbed a brochure and we snapped our pictures.
I learned the cross is officially known as “The Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ” It is 190 feet tall, and is claimed to be the largest cross in the Western Hemisphere. It was built by Steve Thomas. Steve Thomas is the father of NFL Linebacker, Zach Thomas. But, I did not want to spend a lot of time here, so we got back in our car and got back on the highway. But, I’ve discovered that they have quite a few other exhibits at the base of the cross and they have a gift shop. Seeing as how my mother was in a Rehab facility, I was probably tempting God’s rath by ignoring this pilgrimage. If I had thought about that, at the time. we would have spent some time here. Next time for sure. But for now, we were on our way to OKC.
We were on the road more like 8:30 AM, after first stopping at Aunt Murrel’s to tell everyone good bye. We would be back on Thursday night, but we still needed to say good bye. We had no intention of stopping more than once between Amarillo and OKC. We had filled up and should be able to make it easily on a single tank. One stop along the way to stretch our legs should be fine.
Our plan lasted for about 40 minutes. After 40 minutes we were in the middle of the Texan Panhandle. Lots of nothing for miles around. But then, we spied a water tower that looked like it was about to fall over. One leg appeared to be sunk into the ground, and was challenging Sir Isaac Newton to a death match. I was sure that soon the seemingly abandoned water tower would be lying on the ground, awaiting the junk man.
As it turns out, this is the famous Leaning Tower of Texas. A water tower purposefully built to lean. It was built after I-40 had bypassed Groom, Texas, which sat right on Old Route 66. The tower was supposed to get folks to stop at Groom. I have no idea if it worked then or now. I didn’t see anything else around it, so I decided against pulling over. I even failed to get a picture.
Howeer, we had also noticed a very large cross out in the distance, for about the last 5 miles. As it got closer and closer, I knew we had to stop to at least take a picture and hopefully find out something about it.
We exited not long after the Leaning Tower and started to drive down the road towards the cross. They, (whoever “they” is) looked to be either building or adding on to a large church. But, we didn’t drive all the way to it. The cross was so large that to get a picture you had to be quite a ways from it. The builders knew this, and had put a message box along the road with some literature about the cross. I grabbed a brochure and we snapped our pictures.
I learned the cross is officially known as “The Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ” It is 190 feet tall, and is claimed to be the largest cross in the Western Hemisphere. It was built by Steve Thomas. Steve Thomas is the father of NFL Linebacker, Zach Thomas. But, I did not want to spend a lot of time here, so we got back in our car and got back on the highway. But, I’ve discovered that they have quite a few other exhibits at the base of the cross and they have a gift shop. Seeing as how my mother was in a Rehab facility, I was probably tempting God’s rath by ignoring this pilgrimage. If I had thought about that, at the time. we would have spent some time here. Next time for sure. But for now, we were on our way to OKC.
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We were back in our car and on our way. I fully expected to drive most of the way, at least, to Oklahoma City before we stopped again. Nope, we drove about 15 minutes and Margo had to go. I guess we should have gone all the way to the Cross. I’m sure they would have had a restroom there.
At about mile marker 129 is the Donley County-Eastbound Texas Safety Rest Area. Quite a mouthful. That’s the official name of the rest area we pulled into. The first thing we noticed was sign telling us to keep a lookout for snakes. I imagine they meant rattlers, but a garter snake decided to cross our path. I swear it puffed out its chest and dared us to mess with him. We were actually still in the car, pulling in, so maybe it was just drawing extra breathe to scurry into the weeds. If so, Mr. Snake will just have to write his own version of the story. I’m sticking to mine.
This rest area was very impressive. I later found out it was built in 2003. It has two sets of restrooms. Both the Men’s and Women’s had identical mosaics depicting the old Route 66. I-40, the highway we were traveling, was built along Route 66 in this part of the state.
This Texas Safety Rest Area also featured interpretive displays, air conditioning, baby changing facilities, vending, playground, picnic area, and wireless internet access. This place was practically a tourist destination! But, as nice as it was, I wanted to get to OKC. And I knew if we got out the laptops, we would kill an hour. Even if the novelty of signing on and checking our e-mail in the middle of nowhere Texas, did have a certain appeal to it. We settled on a few pictures (missed the snake, though) and got back on I-40.
At about mile marker 129 is the Donley County-Eastbound Texas Safety Rest Area. Quite a mouthful. That’s the official name of the rest area we pulled into. The first thing we noticed was sign telling us to keep a lookout for snakes. I imagine they meant rattlers, but a garter snake decided to cross our path. I swear it puffed out its chest and dared us to mess with him. We were actually still in the car, pulling in, so maybe it was just drawing extra breathe to scurry into the weeds. If so, Mr. Snake will just have to write his own version of the story. I’m sticking to mine.
This rest area was very impressive. I later found out it was built in 2003. It has two sets of restrooms. Both the Men’s and Women’s had identical mosaics depicting the old Route 66. I-40, the highway we were traveling, was built along Route 66 in this part of the state.
This Texas Safety Rest Area also featured interpretive displays, air conditioning, baby changing facilities, vending, playground, picnic area, and wireless internet access. This place was practically a tourist destination! But, as nice as it was, I wanted to get to OKC. And I knew if we got out the laptops, we would kill an hour. Even if the novelty of signing on and checking our e-mail in the middle of nowhere Texas, did have a certain appeal to it. We settled on a few pictures (missed the snake, though) and got back on I-40.
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We were back in our car and on our way. I fully expected to drive most of the way, at least, to Oklahoma City before we stopped again. (Why does that sound familiar?) But the ghosts of Route 66 kept calling. We drove another 15 minutes and reached McLean, TX. We would have blown right past it, without thinking twice, but a billboard proclaimed McLean as the home of “The Devil’s Rope Museum”. Now who, but the curiosity challenged could resist that. If Radiator Springs had such an attraction Lightning McQueen would not have been needed. Margo and I both agreed that we had to stop. We were on vacation, and even though this would put us farther behind schedule, we are not slaves to said schedule. The schedule, I always put together, is just a guide. If you must do “this”, it will take this much time. You keep blocking out time with things you must do, factor in when “Must do” is open, factor in meals and sleep, and keep going until 24 hrs is filled. That is my schedule. If you find something else you want to do, you cut back elsewhere. Well, we discovered we must do The Devil’s Rope Museum and we will just have to cut back on walking in the metal softening Oklahoma heat this afternoon. Maybe God wasn’t mad at me, after all.
Anyway, we pulled off of I-40, and followed the signs a short distance to the museum. As we shortly found out the building houses two museums, the aforementioned museum dedicated to satanic rope, and The Texas Route 66 Museum. Bonus! Two for One! If it is air conditioned, it’s official, God is not upset with me for not visiting his cross at Groom. I took a few quick pictures outside and we went inside. The air was much cooler than the 100 plus degrees outside, so I could stop looking for lightning producing clouds.
Anyway, we pulled off of I-40, and followed the signs a short distance to the museum. As we shortly found out the building houses two museums, the aforementioned museum dedicated to satanic rope, and The Texas Route 66 Museum. Bonus! Two for One! If it is air conditioned, it’s official, God is not upset with me for not visiting his cross at Groom. I took a few quick pictures outside and we went inside. The air was much cooler than the 100 plus degrees outside, so I could stop looking for lightning producing clouds.
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We were greeted after a few minutes by a very nice, elderly lady. We told her we would like to tour the museum and asked how much admittance was. She informed us that it was free. “We just hope that if people enjoy the museum, they would leave a donation or maybe buy something from the gift shop.” That sounded both appealing and honest. Honesty always impresses me, so even it the museum was less fun than cleaning up after your dog ate a pot of green chili (happened to me, I have perspective), I was leaving a decent donation.
My expectations were not high. I have been to many museums, in many states, and from the outside this one didn’t look too impressive. You could tell they were not relying on big funding from the government to run the place. It is housed in a cinder block building that used to be a bra factory (No Kiddin’!) with a dirt and gravel parking lot. The weeds are kept under control by the lack of rain and car traffic. I figured we would get bored in 15 minutes, and be out in twenty. Wrong! We were there for over an hour and could have spent more!
The first thing we came to was an exhibit of photos from the Dust Bowl. Margo was not interested in the Dust Bowl. She went straight into the Devil’s Rope Museum. I am a history buff, and decided this was something I wanted to see. I knew very little about this time. I knew it happened in the early to mid 1930s. It featured dust storms and drought. Lots of people picked up and moved. Tragedy summed up in those three sentences. But, when I looked at the pictures of the actual dust storms my first thought was “Armageddon” This looks like something out of the bible, after locust (which I later found out, also plagued the Dusters) didn’t work. When I thought “dust storms”, I thought some blowing dust that made life unpleasant. No, these things were 1000s of feet tall and dark. They could blot out the sun. The blowing sand would create enough static electricity to knock a man down when he shook hands. Or, it would short out the electrical system of a car. Barbed wire fences would glow with St Elmos Fire. The display was a small, but powerful display of pictures. I knew that the gift shop had just made a sale if they carried a book on the subject. I headed out to find Margo
My expectations were not high. I have been to many museums, in many states, and from the outside this one didn’t look too impressive. You could tell they were not relying on big funding from the government to run the place. It is housed in a cinder block building that used to be a bra factory (No Kiddin’!) with a dirt and gravel parking lot. The weeds are kept under control by the lack of rain and car traffic. I figured we would get bored in 15 minutes, and be out in twenty. Wrong! We were there for over an hour and could have spent more!
The first thing we came to was an exhibit of photos from the Dust Bowl. Margo was not interested in the Dust Bowl. She went straight into the Devil’s Rope Museum. I am a history buff, and decided this was something I wanted to see. I knew very little about this time. I knew it happened in the early to mid 1930s. It featured dust storms and drought. Lots of people picked up and moved. Tragedy summed up in those three sentences. But, when I looked at the pictures of the actual dust storms my first thought was “Armageddon” This looks like something out of the bible, after locust (which I later found out, also plagued the Dusters) didn’t work. When I thought “dust storms”, I thought some blowing dust that made life unpleasant. No, these things were 1000s of feet tall and dark. They could blot out the sun. The blowing sand would create enough static electricity to knock a man down when he shook hands. Or, it would short out the electrical system of a car. Barbed wire fences would glow with St Elmos Fire. The display was a small, but powerful display of pictures. I knew that the gift shop had just made a sale if they carried a book on the subject. I headed out to find Margo
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OK, I’ve ignored the obvious question for long enough. Devil’s Rope is barbed wire. This is not a common term for the item, even here in Colorado. I had heard the reference before, but long ago. When I first saw the sign, I couldn’t recall what it was referring to. When we pulled in and saw the two large balls of barbed wire our front, it clicked. This click also triggered the “In and Out in 20 minutes switch” to be thrown, two paragraphs ago. I figured even if there are 1000 kinds of barbed wire, would I really care? The answer was “I didn’t have to”. The museum was not just a collection of the many different kinds of barbed wire. It did have those. But there was also art out of barbed wire, a village made out of barbed wire, and even barbed wire used as telephone lines. There was an exhibit on tools and the techniques to string barbed wire. There was a display from Australia. They even had, what had to have been a 100 year old horse drawn wagon used for stringing barbed wire, back when the combustion engine was a novelty. Margo and I both found this part of the museum very interesting and it was worth the stop alone.
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But we still had the Route 66 museum to tour. I’d like to say this was a trip down memory lane, but I needed to be about 20-30 years older for most of the exhibits to really ring home. That isn’t to say we didn’t enjoy it, we did. We just enjoyed from a television perspective. There were plenty of things we did remember. There was an old style diner and lunch counter set up. Margo and I both remember the old Woolworths in Brighton, that had one. They made a really good chocolate shake. And there was the display of antique road signs, including an actual Route 66 one. A lot of those ended up being taken down by the citizenry when it was announced The Mother Road was being inactivated.
Things like the Burma Shave road signs, were something we had only seen on TV. And the old, tall, clear gas pump from a Phillips 66. Another item from a bygone era that only the magic of television had made available to us of the '70s and '80s.
I lost track of the amount of time we spent there. I knew we needed to get going, but there was no way we were skipping the gift shop. I found my Dust Bowl book (“The Worst Hard Time” by Timothy Egan. A surprisingly good read!) and we found another $50 worth of stuff we had to have. After paying our bill, we went back out in the Texas heat, got back on I-70 and headed east.
Things like the Burma Shave road signs, were something we had only seen on TV. And the old, tall, clear gas pump from a Phillips 66. Another item from a bygone era that only the magic of television had made available to us of the '70s and '80s.
I lost track of the amount of time we spent there. I knew we needed to get going, but there was no way we were skipping the gift shop. I found my Dust Bowl book (“The Worst Hard Time” by Timothy Egan. A surprisingly good read!) and we found another $50 worth of stuff we had to have. After paying our bill, we went back out in the Texas heat, got back on I-70 and headed east.
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We were back in our car and on our way. I fully expected to drive most of the way, at least, to Oklahoma City before we stopped again. (Deja-vu all over again). Well, this time I was right. We made a quick pit stop in Clinton, OK to go the restroom. I was also getting hungry so I got some snacks. This was probably not smart, because we wanted to eat once we got to Bricktown.
With our various stops, instead of arriving around noon, as I had first planned, we pulled into the western end of Oklahoma City around 4 PM. As it had been the case every day of our current trip, it was hot! The car thermometer registered 104 degrees F! I was not looking forward to wandering Bricktown in this heat, but unfortunately this was the only time we would have to do it. Tomorrow, we would be doing museums.
So after checking into our hotel, we got back on I-40 and continued east for another 5 miles. I had already scouted out parking. We would be parking at a place called Power Alley Parking. This is a multi-story parking garage located right behind the left field fence of AT &T Bricktown Ballpark, home of the Oklahoma City Redhawks. It is also right in the heart of Bricktown, and exactly where we wanted to start our tour.
Bricktown is an old warehouse district in Oklahoma City. In the 1980s the area began a change from a run down eyesore to a vibrant destination for locals and tourists alike. In 1993, that transition was kicked into high gear when Oklahoma voters approved a 1% sales tax hike for the Metro Area Projects (MAPS) initiative. This project included the construction of an indoor sports area (Ford Center), a baseball stadium, and the Bricktown Canal.
The Bricktown Canal is a San Antonio Riverwalk inspired, man-made canal, lined with restaurants and other businesses. The Canal was completed in 1999 and flows along what used to be California Street between the BNSF railroad tracks and Walnut Ave. It is only about four feet deep, but is serviced by a constant flow of scheduled water taxis. Taking a boat ride was high on our list of things to do today.
After parking the car ($5 for all day), we took the elevator down, and walked out into the alley behind the parking garage and the ballpark. The park is designed so those in the alley can look between the slats and actually see what is going on. It was kind of an offshoot of the old knotholes in wooden fences from days gone by. I knew the Redhawks were on the road while we were in town. I was torn by this fact. It’s a beautiful park and I love watching baseball. But, even forgetting about the heat (not much cooler at night), we would have had to squeeze the game into our schedule. That would really be pushing it. Should we make it back to OKC again, we will be going.
As soon as we emerged from the alley, we saw a street sign indicating that we had just passed through Flaming Lips Alley. I am sure there is a story there, but I don’t know what it was. I was a bit troubled by this sign, as it also announced the street which we would now be crossing, Mickey Mantle Ave. It just seemed wrong for Mickey Mantle Ave to meet Flaming Lips Alley.
Across Mickey Mantle Ave was Mickey Mantle’s Steakhouse, a branch of the famous NYC restaurant, started by the Yankee great. We were not hungry, so we did not go in. Yet another thing we would miss on this trip. However, Mickey Mantle’s sits right on the canal, and so does the kiosk to buy your Water Taxi tickets. Since we weren’t hungry, and it was hot enough burn asbestos, a shaded and misted water ride sounded pretty good.
With our various stops, instead of arriving around noon, as I had first planned, we pulled into the western end of Oklahoma City around 4 PM. As it had been the case every day of our current trip, it was hot! The car thermometer registered 104 degrees F! I was not looking forward to wandering Bricktown in this heat, but unfortunately this was the only time we would have to do it. Tomorrow, we would be doing museums.
So after checking into our hotel, we got back on I-40 and continued east for another 5 miles. I had already scouted out parking. We would be parking at a place called Power Alley Parking. This is a multi-story parking garage located right behind the left field fence of AT &T Bricktown Ballpark, home of the Oklahoma City Redhawks. It is also right in the heart of Bricktown, and exactly where we wanted to start our tour.
Bricktown is an old warehouse district in Oklahoma City. In the 1980s the area began a change from a run down eyesore to a vibrant destination for locals and tourists alike. In 1993, that transition was kicked into high gear when Oklahoma voters approved a 1% sales tax hike for the Metro Area Projects (MAPS) initiative. This project included the construction of an indoor sports area (Ford Center), a baseball stadium, and the Bricktown Canal.
The Bricktown Canal is a San Antonio Riverwalk inspired, man-made canal, lined with restaurants and other businesses. The Canal was completed in 1999 and flows along what used to be California Street between the BNSF railroad tracks and Walnut Ave. It is only about four feet deep, but is serviced by a constant flow of scheduled water taxis. Taking a boat ride was high on our list of things to do today.
After parking the car ($5 for all day), we took the elevator down, and walked out into the alley behind the parking garage and the ballpark. The park is designed so those in the alley can look between the slats and actually see what is going on. It was kind of an offshoot of the old knotholes in wooden fences from days gone by. I knew the Redhawks were on the road while we were in town. I was torn by this fact. It’s a beautiful park and I love watching baseball. But, even forgetting about the heat (not much cooler at night), we would have had to squeeze the game into our schedule. That would really be pushing it. Should we make it back to OKC again, we will be going.
As soon as we emerged from the alley, we saw a street sign indicating that we had just passed through Flaming Lips Alley. I am sure there is a story there, but I don’t know what it was. I was a bit troubled by this sign, as it also announced the street which we would now be crossing, Mickey Mantle Ave. It just seemed wrong for Mickey Mantle Ave to meet Flaming Lips Alley.
Across Mickey Mantle Ave was Mickey Mantle’s Steakhouse, a branch of the famous NYC restaurant, started by the Yankee great. We were not hungry, so we did not go in. Yet another thing we would miss on this trip. However, Mickey Mantle’s sits right on the canal, and so does the kiosk to buy your Water Taxi tickets. Since we weren’t hungry, and it was hot enough burn asbestos, a shaded and misted water ride sounded pretty good.
This is just wrong
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I got our tickets and Margo and I walked down to the queue. There weren’t many people, so we just grabbed a spot in the shade and waited. It didn’t take too long before a boat was ready to go. We got a seat under the canopy, but noticed that the misters weren’t working. That was Ok, it wasn’t that bad. Our guide introduced himself as Mason, and said as quick as he could grab a water we would be under way.
Mason turned out to be a very knowledgeable and friendly guide. He relates stories of his younger days, traveling to OKC with his Dad on business. How this area of town was not the best after dark, and how the people and government of the state had transformed it through a 1% tax (with a sunset provision!) increase. If the Chamber of Commerce was not giving him a percentage of the take, they should be. He pointed out many restaurants giving a review of them. He related bad (not a whole lot, but enough to convince me he was honest) as well as good.
The trip took us from one end of the canal to the other. It lasted about 30 minutes and gave us a couple of ideas on what to do next. We were very impressed by The Oklahoma Land Rush Monument. This monument is a series of statues that when completed will be the largest statuary (300 ft) in the world. It will consist of 45 statues, to commemorate OK being the 45th state. The statues are 150% of normal size and made of black bronze. Mason told us we were allowed to climb on them, but in today’s sun that might be hazardous. Sounded like a challenge to me.
Mason turned out to be a very knowledgeable and friendly guide. He relates stories of his younger days, traveling to OKC with his Dad on business. How this area of town was not the best after dark, and how the people and government of the state had transformed it through a 1% tax (with a sunset provision!) increase. If the Chamber of Commerce was not giving him a percentage of the take, they should be. He pointed out many restaurants giving a review of them. He related bad (not a whole lot, but enough to convince me he was honest) as well as good.
The trip took us from one end of the canal to the other. It lasted about 30 minutes and gave us a couple of ideas on what to do next. We were very impressed by The Oklahoma Land Rush Monument. This monument is a series of statues that when completed will be the largest statuary (300 ft) in the world. It will consist of 45 statues, to commemorate OK being the 45th state. The statues are 150% of normal size and made of black bronze. Mason told us we were allowed to climb on them, but in today’s sun that might be hazardous. Sounded like a challenge to me.
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We asked Mason to drop us off near the Hooters restaurant. We weren’t terrible hungry, but using our crystal ball, we were able to tell that by the time we were hungry it would be dinner time. We wanted to eat at both Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Hooters today. Why, you ask? I have a Hooter’s blog that might explain that half. As for Toby’s place, we had never eaten in one before. Plus, I’m a sucker for the touristy stuff. Most of it is just fun, even if it also mostly expensive fluff. It is the one time of the year when I am not the hard core responsible watch-every-penny adult. I get to be a kid. Well, considering my Hooters fixation, maybe a teenage boy.
Hooters come in many different sizes (mind out of the gutter, please) and the one in Bricktown was a little on the small size. But, it had a lot of personality. (This is starting to sound like a description of a blind date). Margo and I went in and spent about half an hour there. See
if you are interested in my visit there.
Hooters come in many different sizes (mind out of the gutter, please) and the one in Bricktown was a little on the small size. But, it had a lot of personality. (This is starting to sound like a description of a blind date). Margo and I went in and spent about half an hour there. See
if you are interested in my visit there.
We finished at Hooters around 5 pm. I wanted to head back to the canal, but first we wandered the shops. More like wandered the shop. This is the one area where we found Bricktown lacking. We only saw one shop, The Red Dirt Emporium. There were restaurants everywhere, but you were SOL if you were looking for souvenirs. The RDE was ok. It had the requisite shirts and other such mementos, but it was nothing special. We didn’t get anything.
With our shopping opportunities exhausted we climbed back aboard the Water Taxi and took it to the south end of canal, and then after the turnaround, we asked the skipper to drop us off near the statues.
Margo and I climbed on a couple of them and took more than a few pictures. They are quite impressive up close. The artist put a lot of work into making them historically accurate, and adding details that you have to be up close to see. They weren’t as hot as we thought they would be, but still hot enough that you didn’t want your bare skin on them for long. After exploring the statues for about fifteen or twenty minutes, we figured we had seen all we could.
With our shopping opportunities exhausted we climbed back aboard the Water Taxi and took it to the south end of canal, and then after the turnaround, we asked the skipper to drop us off near the statues.
Margo and I climbed on a couple of them and took more than a few pictures. They are quite impressive up close. The artist put a lot of work into making them historically accurate, and adding details that you have to be up close to see. They weren’t as hot as we thought they would be, but still hot enough that you didn’t want your bare skin on them for long. After exploring the statues for about fifteen or twenty minutes, we figured we had seen all we could.
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We walked to the far south end, not much of a walk really, and waited for the next Water Taxi. We could have walked back uptown, but it was plenty hot, and our water had run out. It seemed like the smarter choice to just lounge around and wait for someone to come pick us up.
We had used up about two hours and it was nearly 7 PM. We weren’t hungry and probably wouldn’t be for a few more hours. But, we were also tired and it was unlikely we would be back in Bricktown tomorrow. Tomorrow was already spoken for. So I proposed that we drop in on Toby and just have a dessert. There is always room for dessert. (I heard that somewhere). So that is what we did. Our waiter was pretty good, and did the Chamber of Commerce thing too. I’ve got a pretty good BS detector, and while it was saying “Trained to talk up the tourists”, the info he gave us on what to see and do, for the most part was out of Bricktown. So, I was thinking that whatever training these guys are getting is more directed to making tourists feel welcome.
And we did feel welcome. My first impression of Oklahoma City was exceptionally positive. I found everyone very friendly and helpful. The traffic was not bad, when compared to Denver. I liked how the people seemed very proud of their city, while not feeling the need to tear down another city. I did give one of the Water Taxi drivers some grief about how the Oklahoma Sooners got their mascot name. The term “Sooners” goes back to the days of the Land Rush. Parts of OK were opened up for homesteading with the rules stating that everyone had to wait at the border until the designated time. When that time came, a gun was fired and everyone dashed to find an unsettle spot to claim. But, in more than a few of the prime spots someone had gotten their first. They had cheated and crossed into the OK “sooner” So Sooners are cheaters. This solicited a barb at my Colorado Buffalos, an inter-divisional rival. But, I did hit first, so I had one coming. I mean, you can’t insult someone’s sport team and expect to come home unscathed.
That was it for the day. We headed back to the hotel, took care of our nightly rituals, and went to bed.
We had used up about two hours and it was nearly 7 PM. We weren’t hungry and probably wouldn’t be for a few more hours. But, we were also tired and it was unlikely we would be back in Bricktown tomorrow. Tomorrow was already spoken for. So I proposed that we drop in on Toby and just have a dessert. There is always room for dessert. (I heard that somewhere). So that is what we did. Our waiter was pretty good, and did the Chamber of Commerce thing too. I’ve got a pretty good BS detector, and while it was saying “Trained to talk up the tourists”, the info he gave us on what to see and do, for the most part was out of Bricktown. So, I was thinking that whatever training these guys are getting is more directed to making tourists feel welcome.
And we did feel welcome. My first impression of Oklahoma City was exceptionally positive. I found everyone very friendly and helpful. The traffic was not bad, when compared to Denver. I liked how the people seemed very proud of their city, while not feeling the need to tear down another city. I did give one of the Water Taxi drivers some grief about how the Oklahoma Sooners got their mascot name. The term “Sooners” goes back to the days of the Land Rush. Parts of OK were opened up for homesteading with the rules stating that everyone had to wait at the border until the designated time. When that time came, a gun was fired and everyone dashed to find an unsettle spot to claim. But, in more than a few of the prime spots someone had gotten their first. They had cheated and crossed into the OK “sooner” So Sooners are cheaters. This solicited a barb at my Colorado Buffalos, an inter-divisional rival. But, I did hit first, so I had one coming. I mean, you can’t insult someone’s sport team and expect to come home unscathed.
That was it for the day. We headed back to the hotel, took care of our nightly rituals, and went to bed.
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Wednesday, July 15, 2009
We were up, ready, and on the road by 9 AM. That put us about a half hour behind. I wanted to be at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum when it first opened at nine. I was really looking forward to today. I had read a lot of good things about this museum and the second museum we would be visiting, today, and I was really looking forward to both.
I had the address for the museum programmed into my GPS, and as we traveled east on I-40, and then seemingly into the suburban hills of OKC, I was starting to think that TomTom was about to let me down. I was about to reach for my trusty Rand McNally back up, when he museum was sighted. Parking was free and as it was only 9:30 on a Wednesday, the museum was definitely not busy.
We paid our admission and headed for art portion of the museum. I was anxious to see the Russells and Remingtons, that were part of the museum’s permanent collection. I do not have an eye for fine art, but I know what I like. Charles Russell and Frederic Remington are extremely well known painters of the American West of 100 plus years ago. But, before we could reach them we were stopped by a huge sculpture of a mountain lion, done in white marble. The piece was titled “Canyon Princess” and it was done in marble from Marble, CO. Marble is a small mining town near Glenwood Springs that has produced some of the finest white marble in the world. Stone from Marble was used to make the Lincoln Memorial and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I need to get up there to visit.
But, I digress. “Canyon Princess” turned out to be a harbinger of things to come. The NCWHM has an annual art show/competition called Prix de West. It is invitational only, and the best western artists in the world show their works here. We wandered into the gallery featuring these works and I positively fell in love with the works of Shawn Cameron. I mentioned I know nothing of art, but I know what I like. We spent more than an hour wandering from painting to painting, sculpture to sculpture admiring everyone. I have never enjoyed an art museum, not even the Denver Art Museum (no slouch on western art) as much as I enjoyed this one area of the NCWHM.
I had the address for the museum programmed into my GPS, and as we traveled east on I-40, and then seemingly into the suburban hills of OKC, I was starting to think that TomTom was about to let me down. I was about to reach for my trusty Rand McNally back up, when he museum was sighted. Parking was free and as it was only 9:30 on a Wednesday, the museum was definitely not busy.
We paid our admission and headed for art portion of the museum. I was anxious to see the Russells and Remingtons, that were part of the museum’s permanent collection. I do not have an eye for fine art, but I know what I like. Charles Russell and Frederic Remington are extremely well known painters of the American West of 100 plus years ago. But, before we could reach them we were stopped by a huge sculpture of a mountain lion, done in white marble. The piece was titled “Canyon Princess” and it was done in marble from Marble, CO. Marble is a small mining town near Glenwood Springs that has produced some of the finest white marble in the world. Stone from Marble was used to make the Lincoln Memorial and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I need to get up there to visit.
But, I digress. “Canyon Princess” turned out to be a harbinger of things to come. The NCWHM has an annual art show/competition called Prix de West. It is invitational only, and the best western artists in the world show their works here. We wandered into the gallery featuring these works and I positively fell in love with the works of Shawn Cameron. I mentioned I know nothing of art, but I know what I like. We spent more than an hour wandering from painting to painting, sculpture to sculpture admiring everyone. I have never enjoyed an art museum, not even the Denver Art Museum (no slouch on western art) as much as I enjoyed this one area of the NCWHM.
The National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum
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Canyon Princess
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The one thing I really did not like was the restrictions on picture taking. Some areas you could, some you couldn’t and some you could, but with no flash. I thought that it was to prevent the degregation of the paint, but I got in trouble for taking a picture of a sculpture. So I don’t know why. But, on line were pictures of everything in the Prix de West show, so I borrowed one or two for the blog.
The NCWHM is not just an art museum. Margo and I did find the Russells and Remingtons, in the Art of the American West Gallery (guarded by “Canyon Princess”) but some we soon moved on to the other exhibits. We enjoyed Prosperity Junction. The museum had set up an old west town, in a series of buildings. You could wander into the saloon, or the sherriff’s office. We found the school house and the doctor’s office. All were furnished with period artifacts and a number of them, like the jail, were guest interactive. I think Margo particularly enjoyed seeing me incarcerated in the Sherriff’s authentic jail. We left Prosperity Junction just in time, as a family with loud and rude kids showed up right behind us.
We moved on the Western Performers Gallery. This featured exhibits, biographies, and artifacts from many noted western actors. John Wayne, Jimmy Steward, Barbara Stanwick, and many others all had their live told through words, pictures, artifacts, personal belongings, and even sound and pictures. There were interactive exhibits here as well. Any fan of Western movies or Western TV shows is in hog heaven here. It was easy to lose track of time.
The American Rodeo Gallery was also very memorable. Here the museum had a rodeo arena setup, and as you walk through and around it you encounter various displays telling the history of rodeo, rodeo events, and the champions from those events. Overhead is a large monitor that runs a loop documentery, coupled with the grandstands gives you a chance to rest your feet.
We went kind of quickly through the Fire Arms Gallery, that had a real Gatlin Gun on display, in addition to the 100s (1000s?) of other weapons, and the Native American Gallery. I hated the fact that we could not take pictures, as so much of the above was photoworthy. I guess you will have to see it yourself.
The NCWHM is not just an art museum. Margo and I did find the Russells and Remingtons, in the Art of the American West Gallery (guarded by “Canyon Princess”) but some we soon moved on to the other exhibits. We enjoyed Prosperity Junction. The museum had set up an old west town, in a series of buildings. You could wander into the saloon, or the sherriff’s office. We found the school house and the doctor’s office. All were furnished with period artifacts and a number of them, like the jail, were guest interactive. I think Margo particularly enjoyed seeing me incarcerated in the Sherriff’s authentic jail. We left Prosperity Junction just in time, as a family with loud and rude kids showed up right behind us.
We moved on the Western Performers Gallery. This featured exhibits, biographies, and artifacts from many noted western actors. John Wayne, Jimmy Steward, Barbara Stanwick, and many others all had their live told through words, pictures, artifacts, personal belongings, and even sound and pictures. There were interactive exhibits here as well. Any fan of Western movies or Western TV shows is in hog heaven here. It was easy to lose track of time.
The American Rodeo Gallery was also very memorable. Here the museum had a rodeo arena setup, and as you walk through and around it you encounter various displays telling the history of rodeo, rodeo events, and the champions from those events. Overhead is a large monitor that runs a loop documentery, coupled with the grandstands gives you a chance to rest your feet.
We went kind of quickly through the Fire Arms Gallery, that had a real Gatlin Gun on display, in addition to the 100s (1000s?) of other weapons, and the Native American Gallery. I hated the fact that we could not take pictures, as so much of the above was photoworthy. I guess you will have to see it yourself.
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We were getting hungry and we were pressed for time. We had another museum that held equal interest to see. But, we were not leaving with out seeing “The End of The Trail”. Actually, we had seen it. You can’t miss it. The sculpture is very famous. It has been reproduced many times, and in many sizes. The original is 18 feet tall. It depicts an Indian mounted on a pony, with a battle spear cradled in his arm, point down. Both the Indian and pony are bowed in a pronounced posture of exhaustion. When you see it, you will recognize it.
It has an interesting history. The artist, James Earle Frasure, created it in 1915 for the Panama Pacific International Exposition. It won a gold medal. The casting was in plaster, and when it was eventually put on display in California the weather did a number on it. The CMWHM bought it restored it, and put it on display. In addition, they had it cast in bronze and almost fulfilled the sculptor’s desire to have it permanently on display, in bronze. Frasure wanted it at The Presido near San Francisco. It is instead, in Visalia, CA. After that we ate lunch at the museum, took a few more pictures (Lincoln and John Wayne) and headed out to the car.
We were very pleased with the time we spent here.
It has an interesting history. The artist, James Earle Frasure, created it in 1915 for the Panama Pacific International Exposition. It won a gold medal. The casting was in plaster, and when it was eventually put on display in California the weather did a number on it. The CMWHM bought it restored it, and put it on display. In addition, they had it cast in bronze and almost fulfilled the sculptor’s desire to have it permanently on display, in bronze. Frasure wanted it at The Presido near San Francisco. It is instead, in Visalia, CA. After that we ate lunch at the museum, took a few more pictures (Lincoln and John Wayne) and headed out to the car.
We were very pleased with the time we spent here.
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It was about a fifteen minute drive from the Cowboy Museum and Western Heritage Museum to the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum. The OCNMM is dedicated to the victims, survivors, and rescuers of the bombing of Murrah Building on April 19, 1995. I had only the vaguest idea of what to expect.
We found a place to park and walked towards a large and approximately 35 ft tall, black bronze wall. I later found out that it, and its brother across the Reflecting Pond, are called the Gates of Time.
The bomb that destroyed the Alfred P Murrah detonated at 9:02 AM. The two gates are stamped with 9:01 and 9:03. These two times represent the last moment of peace and the first moment of recovery. Margo and I snapped a few pictures of Gates and Reflecting Pool. We knew we could tour the outside memorial later, as it is open 24 hrs, so we headed to this somewhat damaged looking building that the signs said was the entrance to the museum.
The side of the building, The Journal Record Building, that faced us was a painted brick building. The paint was faded and chipped. There were numerous windows that were black, and one section on a open floor was upainted, like something had been removed. I was certain that after 14 years the damage caused by the FuelOil/Fertilizer bomb of 14 years ago would been repaired.
The only explanation was that this was intentionally left as a statement. It did a good job of setting the tone. We later confirmed that this was the exact intention, and that the outside of the building had had a sealant applied to prevent futher weather eroision.
We went inside and paid for our admission. We were instructed where and how to start our visit. Most museums you just get a brochure and go. The OCNMM directs you to an elevator that takes you to the top floor, and then has you wait for a presentation to start. Their idea is to walk you, chronologically, through the bombing.
On the 3rd floor starts you with a history of terrorism, and then to the history of the Alfred P. Murrah Building. Alfred Murrah was a federal judge. I didn’t retain much more than that about the building. Next is a lot of displays that show a normal day. People going to work, people coming into the building, things of that variety. Overhead the sounds of business as usual are played. Phones ringing, chatter between co-workers, greetings to someone arriving for work. These areas were designed to put you more at ease, and in the shoes of an Oklahoman on that day. It is a prelude to the next part of the tour. A clock ticks down the time remaining until the next presentation.
We had already been told by one of the many staffers that the next part will take us through the explosion. The staffer elaborated by telling us that at the time of the explosion, in another nearby building, a hearing was going on.
That hearing was being recorded on audio tape, and had started at about 9 AM. When the doors opened we went in and sat down on one of several benches. Facing us was a large screen. The audio tape began to roll and we were listening to a female voice describing the beginning particulars of the hearing. As we already knew what was coming, the tension built. The explosion itself, while not anti-climatic, was not nearly as loud as you would expect. But, to illustrate the confusion, the lights flash very briefly and then went out. We were in complete darkness for 5-10 seconds. Then the wall in front of us was filled with portraits, which we correctly assumed, were of those who had died. It was very well done.
We the doors leading us to the next part of the museum opened, we knew that this would be a very different experience. We were not disappointed.
We, we were in one sense. Pictures, again, were not allowed. The museum exuded a sense of reverence. Again staffers were there to tell stories and point out particularly interesting items.
Very early in this process we heard the story of The Survivor’s Tree. When this area of downtown OKC was being developed there grew an American Elm tree, that had been part of someone’s backyard. Rather than cut it down, they left it, paved around it, and created a parking lot with a tree in it. That became a coveted spot because of the shade it offered. The tree was in the parking lot of the Journal Record Building, the building we were now in. Across the street, (now gone) was the Murrah building. When the explosion went off the heat and flames blew and burned every leaf from the tree, and set parts of it on fire.
It blackened and dead looking. The first responders used the tree as a support for their equipment. Days later when clean up started it was presumed to have been a casualty as well. The next spring it began to sprout new branches and leaves. The best horticulturists in the state were called to nurse it back to health. A special structure was built around it. It flourished, coming back as good as new. It became not only “the most beloved tree in Oklahoma”, but the official symbol for the museum.
We wandered from display to display learning of heroic efforts, of fate taking one person and sparing another. We saw the horrific damage that was caused, and then of things seemingly completely untouched. There was an office area that when the clean up began, they meticulously photographed, so they could recreate that damage and destruction for the museum.
There were interactive displays were you could hear the stories of the survivors, rescuers, and friends and family of the victims. The actual people had recorded these messages and stories. Margo had to quit listening as she was getting chocked up.
The one thing that most impressed me, was not the heroic efforts of the first responders. They were all great, doing a vital, but supremely emotionally challenging job. What really made an impression on me was what was to become The Oklahoma Standard. This was the direct, spontaneous, selfless, and overwhelming generosity of the people of Oklahoma. A call would go out over the airwaves for “D” cell batteries, and so many would be dropped off they would have to go back on the air to beg people to stop. After touring the area in which he would be sleeping and eating following his long shift at the Murrah building, a bald first responder saw the completeness of what was provided. Cots, with washed and folded cloths laid out, candy on the pillow, notes of thanks from school children, tables of food, and on and on. He is then asked if there was anything else they (the volunteers) could get for him and the others. The folcially challenged man joked about a barber shop. After his next shift it was there. Blood banks overflowed. Volunteers worked around the clock to do nothing but provide for the rescuers. When it was all over some coined the term The Oklahoma Standard, the standard which all other disaster responses would be measured.
I found this amazing. The rescuers were professionals, doing what they were trained to do. They were organized, coordinated, and practiced in their duties. The people of OKC served the rescuers through their own internal force of right and good.
Margo and I learned the story of the investigation.
We learned (actually relearned) how Timothy McViegh was under arrest, through his own stupidity, long before he was even a suspect. Again the displays, presentations, and staffers were top notch. There were displays about the world coverage. A display about the photographs taken and used in newspapers. Everyone remembers the picture of the firefighter holding the baby in his arms. It won a Pulitzer Prize. That baby’s name was Miss Baylee Almon. She did not survive. Eighteen other children died that day. One staffer told us as a result there is no Federal building in America was an onsite day care.
Towards the end, we learned about the outside part of the memorial. That was the Gates of Time and Reflecting Pond that we had already noticed.
But there was also The Rescuers Orchard, a group of trees planted near The Survivor’s Tree dedicated to those who helped with the tragedy. There is one tree for each state that sent help. The tree representing Oklahoma is closet to The Survivor’s Tree, as the OKC finest were first on hand. Then there is the Survivor’s Wall. This is an actual section of the Murrah Building which was left intact, and the names of the survivors added to. But, the most moving part of the outside memorial is Field of Empty Chairs. Each victim of the OKC Bombing is memorialized with a bronze and glass chair. The chair has the victim’s name engraved in it. Chairs were chosen to represent the empty chairs at the dinner table, that the bombing caused. The chairs are arranged in nine rows, one each for each floor of the Murrah Building.
Each victim’s chair can be found on floor he or she would have occupied that terrible day. The chairs are clustered towards the middle, as that is where the most devestation occurred. The chairs of the children are smaller.
Margo and I went outside. It was nearly 6 PM and the museum was going to close. We got close up views of the things we had just learned about and took our photographs. Even at 6 PM it was still hot, and the shade of The Survivor’s Tree was a welcome diversion. But, thirst and hunger were setting in. So after a pitstop at a downtown c-store, which I think was called The Midtown Mart, for water, we found our car and pointed it north. Our next stop was dinner at Pops
We found a place to park and walked towards a large and approximately 35 ft tall, black bronze wall. I later found out that it, and its brother across the Reflecting Pond, are called the Gates of Time.
The bomb that destroyed the Alfred P Murrah detonated at 9:02 AM. The two gates are stamped with 9:01 and 9:03. These two times represent the last moment of peace and the first moment of recovery. Margo and I snapped a few pictures of Gates and Reflecting Pool. We knew we could tour the outside memorial later, as it is open 24 hrs, so we headed to this somewhat damaged looking building that the signs said was the entrance to the museum.
The side of the building, The Journal Record Building, that faced us was a painted brick building. The paint was faded and chipped. There were numerous windows that were black, and one section on a open floor was upainted, like something had been removed. I was certain that after 14 years the damage caused by the FuelOil/Fertilizer bomb of 14 years ago would been repaired.
The only explanation was that this was intentionally left as a statement. It did a good job of setting the tone. We later confirmed that this was the exact intention, and that the outside of the building had had a sealant applied to prevent futher weather eroision.
We went inside and paid for our admission. We were instructed where and how to start our visit. Most museums you just get a brochure and go. The OCNMM directs you to an elevator that takes you to the top floor, and then has you wait for a presentation to start. Their idea is to walk you, chronologically, through the bombing.
On the 3rd floor starts you with a history of terrorism, and then to the history of the Alfred P. Murrah Building. Alfred Murrah was a federal judge. I didn’t retain much more than that about the building. Next is a lot of displays that show a normal day. People going to work, people coming into the building, things of that variety. Overhead the sounds of business as usual are played. Phones ringing, chatter between co-workers, greetings to someone arriving for work. These areas were designed to put you more at ease, and in the shoes of an Oklahoman on that day. It is a prelude to the next part of the tour. A clock ticks down the time remaining until the next presentation.
We had already been told by one of the many staffers that the next part will take us through the explosion. The staffer elaborated by telling us that at the time of the explosion, in another nearby building, a hearing was going on.
That hearing was being recorded on audio tape, and had started at about 9 AM. When the doors opened we went in and sat down on one of several benches. Facing us was a large screen. The audio tape began to roll and we were listening to a female voice describing the beginning particulars of the hearing. As we already knew what was coming, the tension built. The explosion itself, while not anti-climatic, was not nearly as loud as you would expect. But, to illustrate the confusion, the lights flash very briefly and then went out. We were in complete darkness for 5-10 seconds. Then the wall in front of us was filled with portraits, which we correctly assumed, were of those who had died. It was very well done.
We the doors leading us to the next part of the museum opened, we knew that this would be a very different experience. We were not disappointed.
We, we were in one sense. Pictures, again, were not allowed. The museum exuded a sense of reverence. Again staffers were there to tell stories and point out particularly interesting items.
Very early in this process we heard the story of The Survivor’s Tree. When this area of downtown OKC was being developed there grew an American Elm tree, that had been part of someone’s backyard. Rather than cut it down, they left it, paved around it, and created a parking lot with a tree in it. That became a coveted spot because of the shade it offered. The tree was in the parking lot of the Journal Record Building, the building we were now in. Across the street, (now gone) was the Murrah building. When the explosion went off the heat and flames blew and burned every leaf from the tree, and set parts of it on fire.
It blackened and dead looking. The first responders used the tree as a support for their equipment. Days later when clean up started it was presumed to have been a casualty as well. The next spring it began to sprout new branches and leaves. The best horticulturists in the state were called to nurse it back to health. A special structure was built around it. It flourished, coming back as good as new. It became not only “the most beloved tree in Oklahoma”, but the official symbol for the museum.
We wandered from display to display learning of heroic efforts, of fate taking one person and sparing another. We saw the horrific damage that was caused, and then of things seemingly completely untouched. There was an office area that when the clean up began, they meticulously photographed, so they could recreate that damage and destruction for the museum.
There were interactive displays were you could hear the stories of the survivors, rescuers, and friends and family of the victims. The actual people had recorded these messages and stories. Margo had to quit listening as she was getting chocked up.
The one thing that most impressed me, was not the heroic efforts of the first responders. They were all great, doing a vital, but supremely emotionally challenging job. What really made an impression on me was what was to become The Oklahoma Standard. This was the direct, spontaneous, selfless, and overwhelming generosity of the people of Oklahoma. A call would go out over the airwaves for “D” cell batteries, and so many would be dropped off they would have to go back on the air to beg people to stop. After touring the area in which he would be sleeping and eating following his long shift at the Murrah building, a bald first responder saw the completeness of what was provided. Cots, with washed and folded cloths laid out, candy on the pillow, notes of thanks from school children, tables of food, and on and on. He is then asked if there was anything else they (the volunteers) could get for him and the others. The folcially challenged man joked about a barber shop. After his next shift it was there. Blood banks overflowed. Volunteers worked around the clock to do nothing but provide for the rescuers. When it was all over some coined the term The Oklahoma Standard, the standard which all other disaster responses would be measured.
I found this amazing. The rescuers were professionals, doing what they were trained to do. They were organized, coordinated, and practiced in their duties. The people of OKC served the rescuers through their own internal force of right and good.
Margo and I learned the story of the investigation.
We learned (actually relearned) how Timothy McViegh was under arrest, through his own stupidity, long before he was even a suspect. Again the displays, presentations, and staffers were top notch. There were displays about the world coverage. A display about the photographs taken and used in newspapers. Everyone remembers the picture of the firefighter holding the baby in his arms. It won a Pulitzer Prize. That baby’s name was Miss Baylee Almon. She did not survive. Eighteen other children died that day. One staffer told us as a result there is no Federal building in America was an onsite day care.
Towards the end, we learned about the outside part of the memorial. That was the Gates of Time and Reflecting Pond that we had already noticed.
But there was also The Rescuers Orchard, a group of trees planted near The Survivor’s Tree dedicated to those who helped with the tragedy. There is one tree for each state that sent help. The tree representing Oklahoma is closet to The Survivor’s Tree, as the OKC finest were first on hand. Then there is the Survivor’s Wall. This is an actual section of the Murrah Building which was left intact, and the names of the survivors added to. But, the most moving part of the outside memorial is Field of Empty Chairs. Each victim of the OKC Bombing is memorialized with a bronze and glass chair. The chair has the victim’s name engraved in it. Chairs were chosen to represent the empty chairs at the dinner table, that the bombing caused. The chairs are arranged in nine rows, one each for each floor of the Murrah Building.
Each victim’s chair can be found on floor he or she would have occupied that terrible day. The chairs are clustered towards the middle, as that is where the most devestation occurred. The chairs of the children are smaller.
Margo and I went outside. It was nearly 6 PM and the museum was going to close. We got close up views of the things we had just learned about and took our photographs. Even at 6 PM it was still hot, and the shade of The Survivor’s Tree was a welcome diversion. But, thirst and hunger were setting in. So after a pitstop at a downtown c-store, which I think was called The Midtown Mart, for water, we found our car and pointed it north. Our next stop was dinner at Pops
We cruised north on I-44 (Historic Route 66), which became I-35 (still Historic Route 66), and then turned west on 2nd Street (Real & Current Route 66). In a few miles later a large pop bottle appeared on the horizon. Pops, which was our destination, is not named for the paternal family figure. Pops is named for the 500 different kinds of bottled soda pop that they sell.
We pulled into the restaurant and got our first impression. It looked to me like a 1950’s entrepreneur time traveled to the 21st century and build his dream restaurant. In the red corner, wearing a 66 foot pop bottle, residing on Route 66, and sporting a diner theme is 1955.
In the blue corner, wearing modern architecture, glass walls, and flat screen TV is 2009. Margo and I thought it worked.
We pulled into the restaurant and got our first impression. It looked to me like a 1950’s entrepreneur time traveled to the 21st century and build his dream restaurant. In the red corner, wearing a 66 foot pop bottle, residing on Route 66, and sporting a diner theme is 1955.
In the blue corner, wearing modern architecture, glass walls, and flat screen TV is 2009. Margo and I thought it worked.
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Pops is predominately a restaurant serving diner style food. It also in true classic Route 66 fashion, caters to the car bound traveler. Out front is a six station fuel island and inside is a convenience store. But, the big draw to Pops is 500 different kinds of bottled soda pop. They have modern stuff like the various flavors of AMP, Full Throttle, and Monster Energy drinks. They have the classics; Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, ect. They have classics with a twist; Dr Pepper from Dublin, Ireland and Coca Cola from Mexico (they both still use real sugar, instead of HF corn syrup). They have stuff that you probably thought was long gone.
Bubble Up, RC Cola, and Nehi. They have several of the JONES line of sodas, with their non-traditional flavors like Bubble Gum and Green Apple. The have about 100 different kinds of Root Beers, Birch Beers, and Sarsaparillas. And they have stuff you just have to wonder about. Things like Kitty Piddle, Dog Drool, and Bug Barf, all made by Avery. And if none of that is to your liking, Pops has their own bottled water.
We had to wait about 10-15 minutes to be seated, because even on an early Wednesday night, Pops was hopping. We spent our time checking out the soda for sale in the glass doored coolers, and the soda for decorating, that lined the glass walls. Those bottles are glued to glass shelves, set in front of the glass walls. The bottles are arranged by color to form very eye catching displays.
We were seated and ordered our fare
Margo had chicken fingers and I got a hamburger. The waiter missed part of Margo’s order and got side tracked fixing it. But, as busy as they were, it wasn’t too hard to forgive. The food was good. Nothing great, but we had no complaints. We did not order a bottled soda with our meal. Those are $1.99 a bottle. The fountain drinks are $1.75 per, and come with unlimited refills. We finished our dinner, paid for it, and headed out into the store.
Just because we skipped a bottled soda with dinner does not mean we would be ignoring them. Margo and I decided to pick up a few for ourselves and a few for the people back home. We got a couple different kinds of Nehi, Bubble Up, a couple of different kinds of Root Beer, a Ginger Ale, a couple of Orange Cream Sodas, and a Cream Soda. In all we got 12 bottles. Even with a $40 price tag, we were still happy.
We weren’t about to leave without taking a picture of the pop bottle outside.
It is made of large metal rings attached to a center post. The center post also serves as the straw for the bottle. Imbedded in the metal rings is some form of lighting, so it should look great at night as well. The sun was setting, but wouldn’t be down for at least another couple of hours, so we had to settle for the day version. Margo and I took about 10 different pictures of the bottle trying to get a good one. I took a few of the restaurant and Margo got a good shot of the shelves. As we were leaving OKC in the morning, and Pops was a gas station, I filled the SUV before we left.
Bubble Up, RC Cola, and Nehi. They have several of the JONES line of sodas, with their non-traditional flavors like Bubble Gum and Green Apple. The have about 100 different kinds of Root Beers, Birch Beers, and Sarsaparillas. And they have stuff you just have to wonder about. Things like Kitty Piddle, Dog Drool, and Bug Barf, all made by Avery. And if none of that is to your liking, Pops has their own bottled water.
We had to wait about 10-15 minutes to be seated, because even on an early Wednesday night, Pops was hopping. We spent our time checking out the soda for sale in the glass doored coolers, and the soda for decorating, that lined the glass walls. Those bottles are glued to glass shelves, set in front of the glass walls. The bottles are arranged by color to form very eye catching displays.
We were seated and ordered our fare
Margo had chicken fingers and I got a hamburger. The waiter missed part of Margo’s order and got side tracked fixing it. But, as busy as they were, it wasn’t too hard to forgive. The food was good. Nothing great, but we had no complaints. We did not order a bottled soda with our meal. Those are $1.99 a bottle. The fountain drinks are $1.75 per, and come with unlimited refills. We finished our dinner, paid for it, and headed out into the store.
Just because we skipped a bottled soda with dinner does not mean we would be ignoring them. Margo and I decided to pick up a few for ourselves and a few for the people back home. We got a couple different kinds of Nehi, Bubble Up, a couple of different kinds of Root Beer, a Ginger Ale, a couple of Orange Cream Sodas, and a Cream Soda. In all we got 12 bottles. Even with a $40 price tag, we were still happy.
We weren’t about to leave without taking a picture of the pop bottle outside.
It is made of large metal rings attached to a center post. The center post also serves as the straw for the bottle. Imbedded in the metal rings is some form of lighting, so it should look great at night as well. The sun was setting, but wouldn’t be down for at least another couple of hours, so we had to settle for the day version. Margo and I took about 10 different pictures of the bottle trying to get a good one. I took a few of the restaurant and Margo got a good shot of the shelves. As we were leaving OKC in the morning, and Pops was a gas station, I filled the SUV before we left.
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We had one more, previously unscheduled, stop. Once we turned onto Route 66 and saw a sign for Arcadia, we also saw a sign telling us that the Round Barn of Arcadia was just down the road. Future signs told that the Round Barn was a traditional Route 66 landmark.
Now, I ask you, how could we come so close and not see an honest to goodness piece of Mother Road history? We couldn’t. It was just two minutes down the highway and as impossible to miss as the Pops 66 foot icon.
We pulled to side of the road and parked. I’m not sure if they have tours or an admission. I would guess they do, but it was after 7 PM and we didn’t see any other cars around. So we just took a few pictures and wondered how and why it was here. I haven’t gotten those questions answered. But, I did find out it has been around for over 100 years, even before Route 66.
We thought about heading back to the Oklahoma City Memorial, to see the Field of Empty Chairs at night. They are lit up, and it supposed to be something to see. But after two major museums, Pops restaurant, and the Round Barn, we were tired. We drove back to our hotel and called it a day
Now, I ask you, how could we come so close and not see an honest to goodness piece of Mother Road history? We couldn’t. It was just two minutes down the highway and as impossible to miss as the Pops 66 foot icon.
We pulled to side of the road and parked. I’m not sure if they have tours or an admission. I would guess they do, but it was after 7 PM and we didn’t see any other cars around. So we just took a few pictures and wondered how and why it was here. I haven’t gotten those questions answered. But, I did find out it has been around for over 100 years, even before Route 66.
We thought about heading back to the Oklahoma City Memorial, to see the Field of Empty Chairs at night. They are lit up, and it supposed to be something to see. But after two major museums, Pops restaurant, and the Round Barn, we were tired. We drove back to our hotel and called it a day
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Thursday, July 16, 2009
Today we were heading back to Amarillo to pick up Margo Mom and sister. We would spend the night in Amarillo and then drive home Friday. But, we were not going to go straight to Amarillo. We could have, and then maybe drove home as well. But, that would have been 11 drive hours, plus a 10-15 minute stop every two hours, plus lunch. I hate spending that much time in a car. I’ll do it if it can’t be avoided. Well, it could easily be avoided by extending the trip another day. What to do with that day?
I saw three choices; 1) another day in OKC. Not a bad option, there were still things to see and do. They have a nice zoo and Frontier City would have worked out nicely. It was tempting. 2) We could drive to Amarillo and spend the time with the family. This was definitely 3rd choice. We spent Saturday and Monday nights, plus all Sunday visiting. We were caught up with news and gossip, and telling of our OKC trip would not take that long. 3) Find something to see or do in between OKC and Amarillo.
Now the plains of Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle are not chocked full of scenery. It’s flat, dry and hot. The only green is the irrigated fields and the reclaimed Comanche Grassland, which looks to have been misnamed. I’m sure a horticulturist could explain to me that the plant varieties growing were of the grass family and deeply important to the ecosystem. But, if they were growing in my yard, I’d break out the Ortho.
This part of the country was in the heart of the Dust Bowl, and most of the towns we passed through looked like time had skipped right over them. But, as luck would have it, Margo’s side of the family were Dust Bowl farmers, so she had roots here. One set of her great-grand parents were buried in Wellington, TX. That would be an easy detour, and she had never scene their graves.
Also, I just watched a documentary about Geronimo and discovered he was buried at Fort Sill. Further research discovered that Fort Sill is the home of Chief’s Knoll. This is a section in one of the cemeteries on the base that contains the burial place of many Indian Chiefs of the 19th century. The most prominent of which was Quanah Parker. As an Old West history buff, I decided I could not pass up the opportunity.
I saw three choices; 1) another day in OKC. Not a bad option, there were still things to see and do. They have a nice zoo and Frontier City would have worked out nicely. It was tempting. 2) We could drive to Amarillo and spend the time with the family. This was definitely 3rd choice. We spent Saturday and Monday nights, plus all Sunday visiting. We were caught up with news and gossip, and telling of our OKC trip would not take that long. 3) Find something to see or do in between OKC and Amarillo.
Now the plains of Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle are not chocked full of scenery. It’s flat, dry and hot. The only green is the irrigated fields and the reclaimed Comanche Grassland, which looks to have been misnamed. I’m sure a horticulturist could explain to me that the plant varieties growing were of the grass family and deeply important to the ecosystem. But, if they were growing in my yard, I’d break out the Ortho.
This part of the country was in the heart of the Dust Bowl, and most of the towns we passed through looked like time had skipped right over them. But, as luck would have it, Margo’s side of the family were Dust Bowl farmers, so she had roots here. One set of her great-grand parents were buried in Wellington, TX. That would be an easy detour, and she had never scene their graves.
Also, I just watched a documentary about Geronimo and discovered he was buried at Fort Sill. Further research discovered that Fort Sill is the home of Chief’s Knoll. This is a section in one of the cemeteries on the base that contains the burial place of many Indian Chiefs of the 19th century. The most prominent of which was Quanah Parker. As an Old West history buff, I decided I could not pass up the opportunity.
Quannah Parker's grave
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Geronimo's grave
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The drive to Fort Sill was about an hour and a half. My GPS was working and guided us right to the entrance. Fort Sill is an active military base. As such they have controlled access with armed guards. As an Air Force brat I was familiar with entering a military installation. My wife had never done this before. In truth, I had not since 9/11, so I was wondering what the beefed up security would look like. We did not have long to wonder. As we approached we were directed to stop, by one MP, while another holding an impressive looking assault rifle looked on. Post security is not a tourist attraction, so until I started writing about and the problem of illustrating this blog, it did not enter my mind about a picture. If it had entered, my common sense would have shot it down as fast as these soldiers would have a perceived threat. After looking at our IDs, we were directed to covered area where three more MPs were stationed. One asked to see our IDs again, and asked our business on the base. I told him, which elicited no comment or acknowledgement. I’m sure my answer was about what he was expecting. The other two gave the SUV a once over, but I didn’t pay any attention to what they did. We were released, and the whole thing last about two or three minutes from the time we first stopped until we were on our way. Margo commented about them not messing around. She got that exactly right.
As I stated Fort Sill is an active base. It is home to the US Army Field Artillery School, the US Marine Field Artillery MOS School, the US Army Air Defense Artillery School, and conducts Army basic training. I would guess there are a few guns around. A person would have to be a fool to try anything approaching stupid. This thought entered my mind as my GPS took us down a side street, towards a formation of soldiers. For the briefest of instant, I thought of continuing down the street, which looked to be the wrong way regardless. But Common Sense assassinated that idea, too. We turned around and soon TomTom had chosen a new route for us.
In less than five minutes we were parked near Chief’s Knoll. It’s is just a small high place, barely worth of the title, “Hill”. It was easy to find Quanah Parker’s grave. It was the largest and most prominent. Quanah Parker was the last of the Comanche chiefs. He never lost a battle against the US Army. He kept his perfect record by seeing the writing on the wall and giving up his war against the US Army. He adopted some white ways, and became very successful. He founded a Native American religion (that condoned, even encouraged peyote use) and was a proud bigamist, having many wives, who bore him many children. Quanah Parker was the son of Cynthia Parker, a white woman who was kidnapped by the Comanches. She completely adopted Indian ways and culture. When she was “rescued” many years later (having taken an Indian husband and bore two children) she was heart broken. She tried to return to the Comanches, but was prevented and was miserable for the two remaining years of her life. She is buried beside her famous son.
I find all of this very interesting. Margo finds it mildly interesting, but not enough to take but a handful of pictures. I was snapping the picture of every head stone I saw. I saw the graves of Santana; Chief Kicking Bird, Chief Ten Bears, Chief Big Bow, and many others. I took pictures of everything, including Lt Col. Harold Bateman. He died rescuing a private who was drowning in a river. The local VFW Post was named in his honor.
As I stated Fort Sill is an active base. It is home to the US Army Field Artillery School, the US Marine Field Artillery MOS School, the US Army Air Defense Artillery School, and conducts Army basic training. I would guess there are a few guns around. A person would have to be a fool to try anything approaching stupid. This thought entered my mind as my GPS took us down a side street, towards a formation of soldiers. For the briefest of instant, I thought of continuing down the street, which looked to be the wrong way regardless. But Common Sense assassinated that idea, too. We turned around and soon TomTom had chosen a new route for us.
In less than five minutes we were parked near Chief’s Knoll. It’s is just a small high place, barely worth of the title, “Hill”. It was easy to find Quanah Parker’s grave. It was the largest and most prominent. Quanah Parker was the last of the Comanche chiefs. He never lost a battle against the US Army. He kept his perfect record by seeing the writing on the wall and giving up his war against the US Army. He adopted some white ways, and became very successful. He founded a Native American religion (that condoned, even encouraged peyote use) and was a proud bigamist, having many wives, who bore him many children. Quanah Parker was the son of Cynthia Parker, a white woman who was kidnapped by the Comanches. She completely adopted Indian ways and culture. When she was “rescued” many years later (having taken an Indian husband and bore two children) she was heart broken. She tried to return to the Comanches, but was prevented and was miserable for the two remaining years of her life. She is buried beside her famous son.
I find all of this very interesting. Margo finds it mildly interesting, but not enough to take but a handful of pictures. I was snapping the picture of every head stone I saw. I saw the graves of Santana; Chief Kicking Bird, Chief Ten Bears, Chief Big Bow, and many others. I took pictures of everything, including Lt Col. Harold Bateman. He died rescuing a private who was drowning in a river. The local VFW Post was named in his honor.
We didn’t linger very long. Like I said Margo had never heard of any of these Chiefs, so they held only a mild interest with her. On the other hand, she had heard of Geronimo. His grave was in a different cemetery, so we got back in the SUV and asked TomTom where to go. In about ten minutes we were there. We parked and got out. Again it was not terribly difficult to find the right grave. Geronimo’s grave is marked with a many round red stones that have been cemented into a pyramid shape. On top is an eagle. It is very distinctive and we had no trouble picking it out. Buried all around Geronimo were his family and friends that he had fought with. Except for Geronimo, they all had standard issue military stones. It was the same back at Chief’s Knoll. That kind of surprised me. It meant that the government paid for stones. I’m not against that or anything. But, if I had given it much thought, I would have assumed that the tribe or family would have paid for them and with that much diversity in stone would have been evident. If I had given it even more thought, it would have occurred to me that the government had placed all of these men on reservations, where they were providing all the necessities in life. It would stand to reason that the government would provide the necessities in death as well.
While Margo and I were taking a few pictures we could hear distant explosions. It sounded like thunder, and we quickly determined it was live artillery fire. It was kind of interesting to know we were hearing a live fire exercise. Kind of getting in touch with our military past. Margo lost a brother, while he was a Marine. My Dad was a 20 year vet, and I have a gg-grandfather who fought in the Civil War.
By now we were in need of a restroom break. We had driven past the post golf course on the way to see Geronimo. We were a little hungry, so we thought about having lunch at the club there. But, in the end we decided to be on our way. Our next stop was going to be Wellington, TX.
While Margo and I were taking a few pictures we could hear distant explosions. It sounded like thunder, and we quickly determined it was live artillery fire. It was kind of interesting to know we were hearing a live fire exercise. Kind of getting in touch with our military past. Margo lost a brother, while he was a Marine. My Dad was a 20 year vet, and I have a gg-grandfather who fought in the Civil War.
By now we were in need of a restroom break. We had driven past the post golf course on the way to see Geronimo. We were a little hungry, so we thought about having lunch at the club there. But, in the end we decided to be on our way. Our next stop was going to be Wellington, TX.
Wellington was going to be a couple of hour’s worth of driving. For some reason I had been dreading this drive. I guess it was because it was the last leg of the “real” vacation. After we got back to Amarillo, all that was left was the drive home. As we all know the drive to your vacation is filled with anticipation, wonder, and excitement. The drive home is marked by exhaustion and that little voice in the back of your mind, that back to work is coming soon.
I must really have wanted this vacation, as this last leg of vacation does not qualify as “fun” on most people’s list. The plan for the rest of the day was to drive to Wellington, Texas, (Pop. A few hundred tough SOBs), walk around in 100 plus degree heat, in a scrub brush cemetery searching for my wife’s Great-Grandparent’s grave. Then to add to the fun, we would search for and photograph another dozen graves as well. You see I volunteer to take pictures of graves for people who live too far away to pay their respects. Those pictures are posted on a FindaGrave.com. People can leave virtual flowers and messages. Since I was going to be in this cemetery anyway, and this cemetery provides an on-line database to help you find the graves, I though I would see if I could help a few people out. What was ten pounds of sweat?
Flashback to Amarillo, three days ago. I was visiting with Aunt Murrell and the subject of her deceased husbands parents came up. She mentioned that no one was really sure exactly what happened to them. They had a story that her father-in-law had died when he fell into an industrial meat-grinder. That sounds all warm and fuzzy, but I am a believer that things like that are usually urban, or in this case, rural legend. It makes for a good story to tell. Aunt Murrell’s husband was still a boy when this happened, and then his mother passed away from pneumonia a year or two later. Now, I figured that if someone fell into a meat grinder and died, that would probably make the papers. I did a little research and was able to figure out exactly when he died. Wellington has a newspaper, The Leader, which was in publication back in the 1930s when this happened. So I figured "What did I have to lose?” Most small town papers will let you look at their archives, if you ask nice. I ran it by Margo and while she didn’t have a burning desire to leaf through 80 year old papers, she figured it was worth doing to set the record straight. Back to real time, we pulled into Wellington and decided two things. We were hungry and we should eat first thing. Second, as we weren’t sure when the newspaper might close up for the day, that had to be second on our list. After TomTom directed us to a couple of closed restaurants (hard times everywhere), we finally settled on My-T-Burger, across from the high school. Not that highschoolers are the most discriminating eaters, but if they could take it, I figured I could to. The food was actually pretty good. The bathrooms, well, I’ll save the less than flattering description, for my review. Not good is being very generous.
I must really have wanted this vacation, as this last leg of vacation does not qualify as “fun” on most people’s list. The plan for the rest of the day was to drive to Wellington, Texas, (Pop. A few hundred tough SOBs), walk around in 100 plus degree heat, in a scrub brush cemetery searching for my wife’s Great-Grandparent’s grave. Then to add to the fun, we would search for and photograph another dozen graves as well. You see I volunteer to take pictures of graves for people who live too far away to pay their respects. Those pictures are posted on a FindaGrave.com. People can leave virtual flowers and messages. Since I was going to be in this cemetery anyway, and this cemetery provides an on-line database to help you find the graves, I though I would see if I could help a few people out. What was ten pounds of sweat?
Flashback to Amarillo, three days ago. I was visiting with Aunt Murrell and the subject of her deceased husbands parents came up. She mentioned that no one was really sure exactly what happened to them. They had a story that her father-in-law had died when he fell into an industrial meat-grinder. That sounds all warm and fuzzy, but I am a believer that things like that are usually urban, or in this case, rural legend. It makes for a good story to tell. Aunt Murrell’s husband was still a boy when this happened, and then his mother passed away from pneumonia a year or two later. Now, I figured that if someone fell into a meat grinder and died, that would probably make the papers. I did a little research and was able to figure out exactly when he died. Wellington has a newspaper, The Leader, which was in publication back in the 1930s when this happened. So I figured "What did I have to lose?” Most small town papers will let you look at their archives, if you ask nice. I ran it by Margo and while she didn’t have a burning desire to leaf through 80 year old papers, she figured it was worth doing to set the record straight. Back to real time, we pulled into Wellington and decided two things. We were hungry and we should eat first thing. Second, as we weren’t sure when the newspaper might close up for the day, that had to be second on our list. After TomTom directed us to a couple of closed restaurants (hard times everywhere), we finally settled on My-T-Burger, across from the high school. Not that highschoolers are the most discriminating eaters, but if they could take it, I figured I could to. The food was actually pretty good. The bathrooms, well, I’ll save the less than flattering description, for my review. Not good is being very generous.
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The newspaper was about three blocks from the hamburger joint. Margo decided to leave the SUV running, along with the A/C and take a nap behind locked doors. As I had the exact date of death, I didn’t figure this would take very long. The Wellington Leader is a weekly newspaper, so I would only have to search through a few issues. The two ladies on staff there were very helpful, and had me set up with the correct bound volume in about 5 minutes. Then it was off to work. I found the correct issue, but I missed the article at least twice. It was front page, but I managed. Once I found it, I also photographed it to show everyone back in Amarillo. As it turned out, there was a grain of truth (usually is) to the meat grinder story. Mr. Houston (Aunt Murrel’s father-in-law) worked in a gristmill, and was tasked with oiling a large pulley driven wheel. As he was leaning over it, the pulley exploded. The pieces of the pulley acted like shrapnel from a bomb. He had one foot completely severed from his body and numerous other wounds. So he kind of looked like he had been through the proverbial grinder. Mystery solved, and as it turned out, he and his wife were buried in the same cemetery we would be wandering.
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I woke Margo up and we were on our way. The cemetery was just out of town. As promised by the weatherman last night, today was hot. Every day we had been in Texas or Oklahoma had topped 102. We had a map and layout of the cemetery, and after about 15 minutes we found Margo’s relatives. The cemetery is not numbered in a linear fashion, but it is labeled. So once we figured it out this, and the other discoveries came pretty quick. We spent more than a half hour, but less than 45 minutes in the hot sun. By the time we were done, we had crossed everyone off the list, and my tennis shoes were full of goatheads and other unpleasant hitchhikers. It took a bit to clean them.
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But, soon we were heading towards Amarillo. We ran into a thunderstorm, the first rain all week, just shy of the Potter County (Amarillo) line. It dropped the outside temperature by 25 degrees and made driving more interesting. We got to Aunt Murrel’s about dinner time, and we were treated to a Bar-B-Cue for our final night here. We stayed and visited until past 10 PM. Aunt Murrel had enjoyed our visit and was already prodding for our return visit. We said our good byes and that was it. Our vacation was over, except for the drive back.
We drove back the same way we came. We stopped in Stratford, TX for a restroom break, and Limon, CO for lunch. Then we were home. I was surprised we packed as much as we did into seven days. Two of those days were on the road, and another one was spent with family. Next year we are hoping to make it to Cape Canaveral to see one of the final launches of the Space Shuttle. I think God is going to have to help with this one some. These things are almost ritualistically delayed. Wish me luck!
We drove back the same way we came. We stopped in Stratford, TX for a restroom break, and Limon, CO for lunch. Then we were home. I was surprised we packed as much as we did into seven days. Two of those days were on the road, and another one was spent with family. Next year we are hoping to make it to Cape Canaveral to see one of the final launches of the Space Shuttle. I think God is going to have to help with this one some. These things are almost ritualistically delayed. Wish me luck!