If Oklahoma and I were married, our relationship status would be “complicated”. Pregnant with our second daughter, I fled the state two decades ago on an oppressively hot September day, husband and toddler in tow. Oklahoma is where I met my husband and where I became a mom.
In “Home Sweet Oklahoma”, Leon Russell, writes of leaving his dusty home state for Hollywood, only to return to Tulsa. Tomorrow, I’m leaving New Hampshire and moving back to Tulsa.
Oklahoma is where my first teacher crush waned after Mrs. Caldwell edited my misspelled word with red ink. It’s where Miss Arnold encouraged me to sign up for a beauty pageant. Oklahoma is Friday night high school football games. It’s where a non-binary student who attended my high school was bullied and died this month. It’s where I was awarded one of my college degrees.
It’s a state that’s too cozy with the church.
It’s redbuds and azaleas. It’s furry, brown tarantulas and venomous snakes. It’s the train-like roar of a violent tornado plus the song of the scissor-tailed flycatcher, the state bird.
Oklahoma is conversations peppered with “reckon”, “ya’ll” and “ain’t”. It’s BBQ, chicken-fried steak, cornbread, fried okra, pecan pie and iced tea. It’s where I learned to ride a bike, rollerskate, rollerblade and skateboard. It’s where I learned to drive a stick shift.
It’s my first job at the ice cream store and then the grocery store. It’s where I raised my right hand to enlist in the Air Force. It’s where I worked as a radio news reporter and a television meteorologist.
It’s where my dad molested me as an elementary school girl in our east Tulsa home. It’s where my dad is buried. It’s where I lost my first tooth and my virginity. It’s where four Girl Scouts as young as eight were raped and murdered when I was their age. It’s the state second only to Texas in the number of death row executions. It’s one of the highest rates of female state imprisonment.
Oklahoma is wheat and cattle. It’s where my first love died by suicide in a farmer’s field. It’s a state with more manmade lakes than any other—over 200. It’s a state in which nearly half of the land is within a Native American reservation.
Oklahoma is a dramatic rise in the number of earthquakes since I’ve been away, a phenomenon linked to the oil and gas production process of wastewater disposal. It’s one of the country’s most extensive collections of Art Deco architecture in Tulsa. The building spree coincided with the rise of the petroleum industry in a city once known as the “Oil Capital of the World”.
It’s the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, when an armed, white mob looted and burned Black Wall Street, killing hundreds of residents and destroying thousands of homes and businesses. It’s a shameful part of my city’s history that I only learned of by accident, not because of a school lesson. It’s the Tulsa philanthropist George Kaiser whose family foundation provided the initial funding for Gathering Place, the largest private gift to a community park in the U.S.
Yes, Oklahoma is Will Rogers. It’s Woody Guthrie, Gene Autry and Bob Wills. It’s the Gap Band. It’s Garth and Reba and Blake Shelton and Carrie Underwood. It’s Bread, The Flaming Lips, the lead singer of One Republic. It’s Kristin Chenoweth and the Native American rapper Julian B. Oklahoma is Toby Keith, who died of cancer this month. RIP.
Here’s a playlist I created of musicians with ties to Oklahoma. I’ll be playing it on my road trip.
Poignant writing. I’ve never been to Oklahoma, yet reading about it in a style infused with such personal candour provides more layers and depth than any description of the place ever could. Appreciate the write up — safe travels and thanks for sharing Christina
We will miss you in NH, looking forward to hearing about your travels. Safe road tripping….