Time to write a catch up blog! 2019 is flying along. Since the Minnesota trip, I have only racked up one state: Oklahoma.
Oklahoma was the only state of my remaining ten that wasn’t scrunched up along the northern border of the nation. I flew down to catch a glimpse of the Cherokee Nation, among many other draws. I visited the Oklahoma City National Memorial and was moved to tears by the heart-wrenching and immersive museum bearing witness to the terrorist attack of April, 1995.
I hung out in the Paseo Arts district at Holey Rollers, a coffee shop featuring homemade donuts, an art gallery, and a bookstore. I bought my Oklahoma materials… poetry, short stories featuring poor folk in Oklahoma, and the book recommended by basically everyone, Killers of the Flower Moon, by David Grann. This is the gripping true life crime story of a series of murders of Osage people in the 1920s. The FBI was formed to solve these crimes.
I drove to Tulsa and its environs and spent a day in the Cherokee Nation, visiting the museum, taking a guided tour through the re-created Cherokee village, and visited the palatial home of a Cherokee descendant.
I went to a town called Skiatook, which is completely off the tourist beat. Why? Because my favorite children’s book of all time is Black Gold, by Marguerite Henry. The author of the more famous Misty of Chincoteague wrote this gripping, TRUE story about the winner of the 1924 Kentucky Derby.
The woman who bred him and campaigned him was an Osage Indian named Rosa Hoots. She had land in Skiatook, and oil was discovered in the area. A vast quantity. Like many other Osage at the time, Rosa found herself wealthy, and she sent her quick little mare U-See-It to Kentucky to be bred to a stallion named Black Toney. Black Gold was a most inspired name for the colt born eleven months later.
All of this I have known since I was nine, but to find Skiatook and see that Black Gold permeates life there, from the museum, to the antique store, to the pawn shop, was a thrill and a treat. Even writing this, months, later, I can feel my heart smiling. If you have a child who loves horses, curl up in an easy chair with him or her and read this book. If you don’t have a child who loves horses, curl up in a chair yourself. I guarantee it will touch your heart.
I wasn’t able to visit the antique store due to some unusual operating hours on the day I was there, so I wended my way northwest toward my planned endurance event. I did a trail run in the middle of nowhere that evening, my sneakers barely surviving the challenge of deep mud, open water, and rock, some slick, some jagged. I ran with care, as a fall would have been especially painful, but I was still able to be the second place woman and first in my age group. State 41 was in the Bag!
This race presented a unique challenge, the strengths and weaknesses of all the runners on vivid display. The course caroomed downhill at the start, and many runners barely made it back up to the finish. Regardless, the winners cheered those who struggled in, mud up to their ears. No one threw in the towel, though everyone had one. My new friend John gifted me a casino towel, a really ugly brown one. I will treasure it as much as I do my age group win.
Looking back, I realize this is the first running race I have counted amongst my 50inthefifties. That’s incredible, one out of 41 states.
After indulging in an outdoor shower, we all shared a post-race meal of burgers and dogs, but I skipped the dance scheduled for that evening. I still had ground to cover.
I spent as much time as I could on the way back to Oklahoma City on Route 66. I love these old American highways, festooned with glimmers of the past.
Since May, the following things have happened…
I committed to run for Borough Council. This has proven to be big commitment. My back neighbor, who has served a term, asked me if I knew what I was getting myself into. Probably not, but I am embracing the challenge and the change, campaigning door to door every day, like Aaron Burr. It is both draining and invigorating. Two weeks left now, and I have knocked on about 600 doors. Every day, I’m out there. I give everything my best shot, and having done so, hope to accept the outcome with grace, either way.
Morgan was diagnosed with kidney disease in July, and was hospitalized for four miserable days, which didn’t help at all. We somehow made it through the summer, though we didn’t get up to Maine until nearly August, and there were days when I thought I was going to lose him. My champ of an eater who used to leap with joy for plain kibble suddenly was turning his nose up at filet mignon. As of this writing, mid-October, he is doing much better, but he has to go to the vet twice a week for subcutaneous fluids. Hopefully he can continue to enjoy doing all of his favorite things.
Kip and I went to Greece for two weeks in June, celebrating his 6oth birthday. It was the first time in 32 years of marriage that we have been to Europe together.
I went to Italy with 10 girlfriends in October, taking a much appreciated break from the campaign trail.
Now I am back home, 2 weeks to go, raring to go!
So it has been pert nigh impossible to rack up states since May. Life intervenes, in both positive and negative ways. Nine states await; I will be able to make plans after November 5. Oh, and we are hosting Thanksgiving, and both our girls are going to be home for the first time in three or four years!