Pioneer History and Victorian Beauty

December 7, 2008

It’s time to start making wedding plans! My family has finally met Joe and his kids, and Joe and his kids have met the family. And that’s what I wanted to accomplish before making any definite plans-- getting the two families together. The bride is now ready to move forward!

The first thing we need to do is to set a date and choose a location. I’d love to marry in April, when the redbuds and dogwoods are in full bloom. We love our home state of Oklahoma (ok, it’s not really my home state. I’m a transplant – but it has become my home) and wanted to get married in a place that would showcase the state’s splendor. Muskogee, with the dazzling array of azaleas that bloom there each spring, is definitely a possibility.

And I’ve long known that if I were to ever remarry, I definitely wanted to marry outdoors. We’d considered Cloudland Canyon at the foot of the falls; it’s a secluded, peaceful place. But there’s no way we could get Fern down there, with her using a walker and a cane to get around on flat ground. I want her to see her son finally marry his true love. Oklahoma will be the place that happens.

The town of Guthrie would be a lovely spot to say our vows. It was the first capital of Oklahoma and is rich with pioneer history and Victorian beauty. Joe and I drove there one day to check the place out. Here’s a quick history of the city from http://www.guthrieok.com/HISTORY.html :

Guthrie began its life as a dusty prairie stop along the AT&SF Railroad. On April 22, 1889, the day of the Land Run, Guthrie had its first incarnation as a destination, becoming a city of 10,000 people by nightfall.Located in the Unassigned Lands of the Indian Territory, Guthrie had been chosen as a site for one of the Federal Land Offices where land seekers were required to file claim to their parcels. By the evening of April 22, a tent city already dominated the landscape. Wooden buildings soon replaced the tents spreading across the hills along Cottonwood Creek. Guthrie became one of the largest cities west of the Mississippi and was quickly known for its beautiful buildings built of red brick and native sandstone.

With the passing of the Organic Act in 1890,Oklahoma became a US Territory and Guthrie was selected as The Territorial Capital. Seventeen years later, on November 16, 1907, Oklahoma was declared a state by then President Theodore Roosevelt with Guthrie as the First State Capital.

First Joe and I had a late lunch at Granny Had One. The building dates to 1891. One entire wall of the restaurant is a mural depicting Guthrie in its early days as a pioneer town, before the turn of the century: horses & buggies; cowboys roping calves; ladies wearing long gowns and stylishly large hats; buffalo grazing in the fields; a steam engine chugging down the track. I spied an old-timey player piano and a collection of player-piano music in one corner. Toward the back of the establishment I noticed a cozy meeting room called The Garden Room where we could possibly have the rehearsal dinner. It was all very quaint.








The next stop in our walking tour was the Redstone Country Inn Bed &Breakfast and Wedding Chapel. The two wedding chapels inside, a larger and a smaller one, were already invitingly decorated with flowers and greenery. White garden chairs were set up in both chapels as if they were ready for a wedding at any time.

I found myself absorbed in the history and architecture of Guthrie. Many of the old red and brown buildings show the year they were built: 1890, 1891, 1893. I felt as if we were walking back in time. The Blue Bell Saloon, popular during Territorial times, still stands, thanks to a little remodeling over the century.

The old train depot marks the home of the of the Santa Fe Railroad which once brought hundreds of pioneers at a time into the growing town. The depot is still there but now serves as a banquet hall and meeting center.

The land office, where thousands of settlers staked their homestead claims, is long gone. That part of history is lost forever. But thanks to the Guthrie Historic District Restoration Program, we can still get a glimpse of what town life was like in the late 19th century, in buildings such as the Foucart Building, designed by architect Joseph Foucart and built in 1891.

Guthrie being the Bed and Breakfast Capital of Oklahoma, we may even have the wedding at a B&B. “Choose from one of 13 distinct and elegant bed and breakfast inns, cottages, and downtown suites in historic Guthrie, Oklahoma.” http://www.guthriebb.com/

And we certainly didn’t want to miss those on our afternoon tour! As the day turned to dusk, Joe and I strolled a few blocks north of town to investigate some of the old remodeled Victorian homes which are now B&B’s. It was difficult, though, to imagine a spring wedding in the dead of winter just before Christmas.

(p) The Guthrie of a century ago was a place where thousands of pioneers made new starts in life. Imagine hearing the trains whistle as they rolled in to the depot. Imagine the noisy crowds filing their claims at the land office. Imagine cowboys stopping for a swig or two at the saloon.

The cowboys, steam engines, and the land office are all gone now. Modern Guthrie is now dotted with antique shops, a performing arts theater, a tea room or two, and even a steakhouse. Guthrie has so much to offer, and what I’ve written here does not even scratch the surface.

History was made in Guthrie. Will this be the place Joe and I make our new start in life, and create some history of our own?

John Again!

December 29, 2008

Joe and I are constantly having to work with John and his obstinateness. Guess we will be for a few more years.

I feel for him. In some ways, I identify with John more than I do Jodie. John likes to be alone sometimes, to not be bothered. Saturday morning he said he just wanted to be left alone. So I left him alone. Some time later Joe asked me if I’d seen John. I hadn’t. Joe found him sitting in a closet by himself. That is bothersome. But what got to me even worse was that Joe yelled at him for it. Yelling isn’t going to help. Joe said he was worried, which of course any parent would be, but yelling and making him feel like he’d done something wrong wasn’t going to help.

I prefer a gentle-yet-assertive approach. When we were at Elaine’s house over the Thanksgiving holiday, John had quite a bit of congestion and was constantly sniffing and snorting. Joe bought some Nyquil for him, which he –well, he didn’t “refuse” to take it, he just got a cupful in his mouth and couldn’t swallow it. Nyquil does have a pretty strong taste, and it’s hard even for me to swallow.

Joe kept threatening to “take him to the doctor and get his shots” when we got home. I asked, why give him shots? People get sick, people get over it. I don’t see the point in going out of our way to the doctor’s office to get shots just for congestion or a cold.

So this past weekend John was congested again. I tried my approach with the Nyquil: I spoon-fed him 4 spoons of it instead of making him down the whole cup. Well, I tried that and the approach my mom took: the “you’re going to take this if I have to shove it down your throat” approach. Well, he finally took it, and even took some the next night ON HIS OWN, without us having to force and threaten. Progress!

Also he’s been eating his vegs – namely broccoli and spinach, where before he’d try every trick in the book to get out of eating them. Again, progress. Oh, I just remembered another thing that happened recently! Saturday morning I tried to get him to take Dayquil tabs. He said he couldn’t swallow them. So you know what? We tried good ol’ parental ingenuity and mixed up a strawberry-mango-yogurt-Dayquil smoothie for him!

Trying to help this kid is like pulling teeth! I told him he’d sit in that chair, even with no bathroom breaks, and not eat another thing UNTIL he had that smoothie down. I swear it took him 3 hours to finish it, but finally did. I said that it wasn’t a punishment, we were trying to help him, as any parent would. But if he refuses to let us help him, well, then there’s nothing we can do. But you know what? His congestion cleared up. Lo and behold.

Stretching a Buck

December 22, 2008

And speaking of home-cooked meals…

Today I finished reviewing and analyzing Joe’s bank account. He gave me access to his bank account so that I can see how he manages his money, where he spends it, etc. We are planning on getting married so I have to know these things (and after all, I am an accountant). Well, one of the first things I found was that he spends $400 to $500 a month eating out! At first I thought it was so high because we had the kids, and that it should have been lower prior to July.

But it wasn’t! I told him that would have to change. There is no sense in spending that much eating out, above and beyond groceries and food fixed at home. When we go out to eat as a family, we spend anywhere from $30-$50; actually closer to $50, with all 5 of us. I can stretch a buck better than that. I fixed 2 good dinners for the whole family this past weekend, and I would bet I spent no more than $20 on each of them.

Let’s see: Friday night I roasted a chicken, about $4-$5. I fixed a box of Stove-Top stuffing, the store brand, about $1. A can of yams, $1 at the most. Salad, from a packet, about $3. Cranberry sauce, about $1 give or take. And leftover wheat rolls, I don’t remember how much those were but let’s say $2. Hmmm, the whole dinner comes to $13, and even if I’ve underestimated, counting tax, and considering drinks (tea or milk), it’s still within $20.

Saturday evening I slow-cooked a roast, about $7-$8. Fixed a box of potatoes au gratin, $1.50. Heated about a bagful of broccoli, $1.50. Added 2 cans of baby carrots to the roast, $1.50. Mixed a packet of onion soup mix and crushed 2 cloves of garlic with the roast, let’s say $1. That’s still just $13.50; add wheat bread, and tea or milk to drink, and again, still within $20. Twice I fed 5 people a healthy, wholesome, filling dinner for less than $20.

This is not the first time I’ve noticed that he’s a little freer with his food budget than I am. He’s much quicker than I am to pick up something to eat at a restaurant – and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I believe in making the most of what you have. Money is a limited resource.

So is your health, and in the wisdom of adulthood, I have come to realize that restaurants are in business to SELL FOOD. Their job is to make food TASTE GOOD so that you’ll BUY IT. They aren’t always looking out for our health and they’re certainly not looking out for our wallets.

We have to look out for our own wallets. A few months ago, I had a Homeowners’ Association meeting on in the evening after work and Joe asked me if I wanted him to pick up dinner. I said that a baked potato with barbecue brisket or ground beef sounded good, so he said he’d pick up something at Rib Crib.

“Why don’t you just buy the potatoes and the meat and fix them at home?” I asked.

“It’ll be too late when you got home.”

“It takes potatoes just an hour to bake in the oven. Just wrap them in foil and toss them in when you get home; they’ll be done by the time I get there,” I said. Plus we already had ground beef and barbecue sauce at home. Why go out and spend money on something that you’ve already got?

See, to me, fixing food at home is not only cheaper, but better for you overall. But, Joe insisted on going to Rib Crib. And I’m like OK, whatever. He’s buying, it’s his money.

Now that we have the kids, though, money has to stretch. It just has to. Here’s a meal I tried last month (didn’t track the cost, but I’m sure it was within $20): Salmon patties, crescent rolls, and rice. They sure were good. I’m such a good cook (and humble, too). For the salmon patties I mixed 2 cans of boneless salmon with ½ chopped onion, a handful of chopped parsley, one beaten egg, a few shakes of Worcestershire sauce, seafood seasoning, and 3 slices of bread chopped into crumbs. Formed them into 4 patties, and fried them up. They were rather loose; didn’t stick together very well and would come apart in the pan. That’s OK; once they were cooked up they stuck together pretty well. The rice and vegs were the “steam in the microwave” variety, and the can of crescent rolls took about 15 minutes to bake.

I tried an experiment a few weekends ago, because I REALLY want to trim down that ridiculous, ungodly $500 a month “eating out” budget. Sure, it’s so easy to eat out, and not mess up the kitchen and have to wash all the dishes afterward. Joe has so spoiled me in that way.

But my goal that weekend was to cook everything we eat, and not spend a bit on going to a restaurant. It worked! Friday evening we had sloppy joes and fried potatoes for dinner. Pancakes made our Saturday brunch. Baked salmon, alfredo-veggie noodles, and broccoli were our Saturday evening dinner. And chicken stir-fry with brown rice and mangoes on the side, made up our Sunday dinner. For lunches and snacks in between, we had leftovers. So there! We went a whole weekend without going out to eat!

The next Saturday we had leftovers of Friday’s meal for lunch. And for breakfast it was scrambled eggs (10) with cheese, and turkey bacon. A pack of turkey bacon is about $2.50, and a dozen eggs is about $1.30. Breakfast for 5 for $5.

Simple. Inexpensive. Healthy. Stretching a buck isn’t hard at all. Just takes a little creativity.

Memory Lane, Downtown Dalton

December 5, 2008

Ever since Joe and I got engaged, people have been asking us if we have a date set yet! I tell them that no, we’ll probably set a date after our trip to Georgia, when Joe can meet my family and they can meet him and everybody can get to know each other.

I get to visit my hometown just once a year. Twice if I’m lucky. My goal for our recent visit (over Thanksgiving) was to tour Downtown Dalton. Remember when everything happened downtown?

I’ll never forget our back-to-school shopping trips downtown. When my sisters and I were young, Mom would take us downtown to buy clothes and school supplies. Mom didn’t drive, so we’d go in early in the morning with Daddy on his way to work. None of the stores would be open yet, so we’d sip on a coke (or coffee for Mom) at the U.S. Café until 9:00. Then we’d make our journey around the 6 or 8 blocks that made up “downtown.”

There was a time when I knew Downtown Dalton like the back of my hand! The Wink Theater, a one-screen theater and one of only two theaters in town, lit up Crawford Street with its marquee and bright lights. Lee Printing and Office Supply was down by the train track. Cannon’s (upscale) department store stood at the corner of King and Hamilton Streets. Belk’s (family) department store was just a hop across the alley from First National Bank near Gordon Street. And the taxi stand (was it on Cuyler Street?) was just outside Bradford Drugs.

Not anymore. Thirty years have passed, and the Downtown Dalton that I once knew, has died.

I took Joe with me on a stroll down Memory Lane in Downtown Dalton. The old Lee Printing building is now a lunch counter. Cannon’s has become a furniture store. The Wink Theater is a church.

And what happened to the old Belk building? Oh, how I remember Belk’s. I remember the glass display cases out front with the mannequins modeling the latest fashions. I remember that downstairs was the boys’ section, so we always trotted directly upstairs to the girls’ section. Belk had hardwood floors, and a sturdy hardwood staircase. They had a basement with all the china and home accessories. It was a nice building, but now has been remodeled as an annex to Wachovia Bank.

And the taxi stand? The cab drivers that took Mom and us girls home after a day of shopping were old then. I’m sure they’ve long since passed away now.

Joe and I happened across an indoor mall-type place called Peacock Alley. Highway 41 through Tunnel Hill and Dalton was once known as Peacock Alley, so named for the many chenille bedspreads that were sold along the road. In fact, the carpet business has its roots in handmade chenille bedspreads.

Anyway, this place was like a museum of Dalton in its earlier years. Chenille bedspreads sporting brightly-colored peacocks decorated the walls. Inside were various shops including an antique shop and what was supposed to be a tea room. In fact that’s why we stopped by in the first place -- we were all hungry and needed a late lunch, so we were going to try out the tea room.

I never saw a tea room, or any kind of lunch counter, but Joe and I did check the place out. Various vintage pictures and newspaper clippings featuring the old Dalton were posted periodically on the walls. I didn’t at first remember what the building used to be, until I saw a picture of Fraker Hardware in 1940 on the wall. Fraker Hardware! That was it! Not that I exactly have fond memories of shopping at Fraker Hardware as a child, but for some reason just remembering that it was there brought back the days when the privately-owned, “mom & pop” stores, were the pillars of a town’s economy.

Walnut Square Mall opened in 1981, and that’s when Downtown Dalton met its demise. The Mall
became THE place to be. Belk moved to the Mall. New stores and shops that I’d never even heard of, opened up at the Mall, and the downtown stores and shops I’d known all my life, were no more. Even a new movie theater, the Martin Triple, opened up, replacing the one-screen Wink Theater downtown. The place had a McDonald’s, a Bresler’s Ice Cream, and an Orange Julius. No more trips to the U.S. Café for us!

Before the days of the malls, Wal Mart or Target Supercenters, Lowes or Home Depot, Best Buy, or even Starbucks, business HAPPENED downtown. LIFE happened downtown. But those days are over now. They exist only in our past, on a place called Memory Lane.

The Great Gatsby

December 15, 2008

I finished reading Gatsby. While strolling down “memory lane” in Downtown Dalton, we came across this quiet, out-of-the-way bookstore down by Finley Studios near Waugh Street, called The Book Nook. Tried as I might, I couldn’t remember what used to be there. In the 1970s, I mean, when my mom would take us kids downtown for all our clothes-shopping, before the days of the malls.

Tulsa Ballet had played “The Great Gatsby” a while back; I’d heard of the story but never seen the movie. I knew it was a classic but didn’t know what to expect. The Ballet put on a fantastic show – but I wanted to know the story as F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote it. So I’d been looking for the book, and finally found an old-but-in-good-shape copy at The Book Nook.

Some stories make me wonder why they are classics. The Great Gatsby is a fictional story about Jay Gatsby, a self-made wealthy man who tries in vain to recapture a lost love. It’s a portrait of the materially prosperous life in the 1920s, after the war but before the depression.

I knew the general idea of the story and how it ended. But I had hoped to glean more of an in-depth meaning. I mean, it’s a classic for a reason, right? The story is told from Nick Carraway’s point of view. He’s the unbiased observer. Much of the conversation between characters is insipid and inane. They don’t say much, they just babble on in mindless chatter. That’s why I couldn’t get the depth of the story. Nobody really says anything.

In a nutshell, Jay is still in love with Daisy, who married Tom Buchanan while Jay was away at war. Tom is having an affair with Myrtle Wilson. Nick is renting a house for the summer next door to Jay, and tells the story as he sees it.

(Spoiler Alert) In the end, Jay is shot and killed at his pool, but not by Daisy’s husband Tom, as one might expect. Instead, by George Wilson, the husband of Tom’s mistress. Maybe he wanted him dead because Myrtle is killed by Gatsby’s car. But Gatsby wasn’t driving; Daisy was driving. I don’t understand the significance of that, why Daisy didn’t at least stop to see if she could help. Did she know about Tom’s affair with Myrtle and was glad to kill her?

Jay takes the fall for the hit-and-run accident, and George shoots and kills him at Jay’s home. But few mourn for him; even Daisy doesn’t go to his funeral. Nick does, even though he more so tolerates Jay rather than actually considers him a friend. Jay’s father does manage to come in from Montana or somewhere. But Jay’s business associate, Meyer Wolfsheimer (?) doesn’t even make find time to attend the funeral.

Such emptiness met with Jay Gatsby’s demise, after all those parties he hosted that were attended by hundreds. So The Great Gatsby was a nobody. He had money but his life was empty. He was materially wealthy but emotionally a pauper. Is that what the story is really about?

Bookworm!

December 4, 2008

When I was at Mom and Dad’s house over the Thanksgiving holiday, Jodie and my niece Alicia were playing downstairs in my brothers' old bedroom. It’s now a playroom, and they started unearthing some of the old toys my sisters and I used to play with. They found Mr. Mooney and brought him upstairs. “Mr. Mooney” is a yellow giraffe about 2’ high that Mom made for Sabrina & Melissa when they were kids. She made a “Tuffy the Tooth” for me, a red elephant with pink ears for Elaine, and there’s a purple elephant with yellow ears she said Tim made (actually I thought SHE made it for HIM).

That sparked my memory reserves, and I went downstairs to see what I could find too. I got to searching the wooden bookshelf that my dad made many moons ago. I was a bookworm in my younger years. I used to read constantly. One of those books I read avidly was Where the Red Fern Grows, and I thought it might be there. It wasn’t, but I did find oodles of other old books that I used to read.

Where The Lilies Bloom, about Mary Call Luther and her siblings fending for themselves in the hills of Appalachia after their father passed away. There was a made-for-TV movie about it.

It Must be Love ‘Cause I Feel so Dumb was an After-School Special. I remember ordering this one from a Scholastic Book Club in fifth grade. Quiet, awkward Erik falls for the pretty, popular cheerleader Lisa, and chases her for weeks before realizing that his best gal-pal Cathy, is who he should be with.

I found an “Alfred Hitchcock/Three Investigators” book that I got at a neighbor’s yard sale. I found some of my old “I Can Read” books from the elementary school years, including one I’d forgotten all about: The Secret Three. Two young boys live on a beach and form a club with a third boy who lives on an island where his dad keeps the lighthouse. They invent their own secret code and communicate via messages in a bottle.

I found my “Waltons” book (Good night, John-Boy), and my “Welcome Back Kotter” books (Up your nose with a rubber hose), that I read in fourth or fifth grade. Oh, and The Shy Stegosaurus of Cricket Creek, a story I read in third grade about this young brother and sister who live in the desert of New Mexico (or Arizona?), and discover a still-living stegosaurus that talks to them. The grownups are archaeologists who are unearthing old dinosaur bones, and the stegosaurus gets rather upset that they are digging up his ancestors’ graves.

I was a bookworm alright. Anytime I finished my classwork at school, I had my nose in a book. Always. In middle school my pages of choice became “Star Trek” books, and in high school I began reading the classics -- Ethan Frome, 1984, The Member of the Wedding, Gone With the Wind. Oh, and how could I forget all those “Little House” books I read in elementary and middle school? Or the “Wizard of Oz” series?

I even read some of my brothers’ paperbacks, which were WAY too adult for me at the time. My brothers are nearly a decade older than me! They graduated from high school before I was even in middle school. What on earth was I doing reading books with demonic or sexual content at age 15?!

At least I was reading. What happened? Why did I quit reading, up until recently, anyway? Oh yeah, life happened. I grew up, became an adult, started working, bought a car, got married, had a child. Who has time to read while paying bills or changing diapers?

It wasn’t just life that happened, REALITY happened. It seemed senseless, to me, to indulge my thoughts in someone else’s dream, fantasy, imagination. Those fantasies had nothing to do with the real stresses and issues I was dealing with as an adult. Fiction was entertaining, but worlds away from real life.

Now though, in my forties, I’m rediscovering the bookworm in me. That child who spent nearly every spare minute reading a book, is still there. She was just dormant for a couple decades!

Lost in France

October 17, 2008

I had one of my crazy dreams last night. Sometimes my dreams are so vivid, so real. A couple nights ago I dreamed I was in France. I didn’t know it at first; I was in this public library with 3 or 4 other ladies, who I suppose were my “friends” but I didn’t know any of them. I found a book I wanted to check out. I discovered that it was one I had checked out long, long ago, and turned in 15 years later. Somehow I got separated from my “friends,” and got lost in France hiking around by myself.

I was hiking around the country, trying to get by with the very few French words that I know. It was a sunny day, sky was blue and clear. I hiked down this paved sideroad just past the freeway – like a service road -- that dead-ended at this old abandoned brick warehouse. The warehouse was 4 stories high and nearly as big as a city block. It looked as if it had been built fifty years earlier.

Guards that looked like MPs were guarding the road that went on past the warehouse. I tried to backtrack, but one of the guards called me over and wanted to know what I was doing and where I was going. I was afraid I would be arrested. All I wanted to do was to find my friends again, but I didn’t know enough of the language to ask anybody anything.

The guard wanted to know if I had any “papers;” that is, any sort of identification or paperwork that would show me where I needed to be. I found a rental car agreement in my purse, and he was like, “Oh yeah!” and took me to this waiting area, like a bus stop or car stop, where my lady-friend was waiting.

In another part of the dream, my girlfriend and myself, and 10 or 20 other people, walked down a dirt road to this lake. The lake was remote and hidden, surrounded by trees and foliage and rocks. An evil weird guy told us we were kidnapped; that we were trapped and couldn’t get out. Everyone else just sat there, wishy-washy and defeatist. But my friend and I were determined to get out if we could. We walked up the dirt road and found that the weird crazy guy was gone, and there was nothing or no one blocking our way out. So we left.

Later we came back and told the people that no one was keeping us here. Just then the weird crazy guy showed back up and was going to punish each of us for escaping. I was trying to hide by slithering through the tree limbs and rocks, but he saw me. For my punishment he put this squid-like creature in my hands, which latched onto my left hand and injected its poison. I had to pull the creature off; then went down to the water to keep my hand cool and to try to wash out some of the poison. I thought, This won’t kill me, will it? I thought that the poison would just make my hand numb and itchy for a while, but that it wasn’t fatal. I could see the blue and green poison seeping into the veins in my hand…

The evil crazy guy was a homeless man living in that abandoned warehouse. That is all I remember. But it was so real, I really felt as if i were lost in France.