Gravel Roads

Osage County has to have more gravel roads than any place in the US.  But you could drive faster and never get caught unless you were unlucky enough to put your vehicle in the ditch.  And I know there were a lot more road graders working for the county but Cac (nickname) Harrington (Harvey Harrington's dad) took care of the NW part of the Osage and Dad thought he did a great job.

I remember when there were "wash boards" in the road and you would drive over it and your head and teeth would shake and rattle.  Or when Cac would grade one side of the road and there was a long pile in the middle of the road until he graded back the other direction.  If it was particularly big pile and there were pickups coming from both direction one had to cross over that pile.  It is one of the mysteries of the Osage that you just don't see in the cement cities of today.

Now I have to tell you one story of when Cac graded the roads while Dad (Cliff Olson) carried the mail.  Dad had just gotten a new set of 8 ply tires from Duvall's in Shidler.  Dad thought that his flat tires and just the wear and tear on the tires would be dramatically different.  Well that week Cac had freshly graded and someone had to have dropped a pile of nails in the roads over a long distance.  That week, only one week, Dad had 18 flat tires.  He got a new set of tires like the "good old ones".  And if you remember my dad you can see him shaking his head and saying a few choice words each time he got a flat.

Now another thing that was great about gravel roads is Dad hardly ever needed to purchase a wrench or screw driver as almost every day he would find some tool in the road. Now I have another story about Terrapins in the road but that will be later.

The thing I remember most is those 3 graveled hills between Eddy Harris's house and mine and how I road my bicycle up and down those hills hundreds of times so Eddy and I could get in mischief.

I bet if you think about it there are a million memories of events on those gravel roads.

What do you learn from gravel roads:

• don't drive a pickup with a horse trailer too fast or it will fish tail.
• How to drive
• How to navigate a bicycle as fast as possible going down hill in loose gravel
• Spot lighting - hunting at night

Thanks for you time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Oklahoma Christian University - and we are Baptist!

Now I have to tell you we are died in the wool Baptist but these Church of Christ folks have something very special to offer.  Their students love this school and they obviously have a great heritage but tonight I am going to let you in on a secret and that is how one of their alumni effected my life almost 40 years ago.  But first I gotta tell you about these pictures.

Preston and Sherri Coale - OU Basketball Coach -

Tonight there was an appreciation dinner for the donors and supporters of OC and Curtis Jantz invited Preston and I to share in this event.  I am sure it is because Preston and I are two of their biggest fans (well Preston is the biggest in enthusiasm and I am the biggest by weight).  Five years ago Preston and I decided we wanted to do something together and OC is very close to our house so we decided we would try their basketball.  Jason Taylor, above, welcomed us to the EAGLES NEST as a red shirt freshman as he knew us from Henderson Hills Baptist Church.  We did not know he was playing ball there but it turned into a great relationship and the entire team and staff welcomed us with open arms.  (refer to the blog story How to reach a Dad's heart? OC Eagles ) Well tonight was special as Stephanie Findley and Dan Hays were honored for winning over 500 and over 600 games respectively.  What an accomplishment! A highlight was Sherri Coale who played at OC and of course is the OU Women's coach spoke and inspired us.  What a great night.

Now, for the rest of the story.

 In 1971 during the summer I had a roommate during the summer named Norman Voss and we sold books together in Kentucky, yes another bookman.  He was a student at OC and during that summer we became good friends but he got me real POed (PUT OUT - bet you thought it meant something else).  You see I was raised in the Methodist Church and had some great teachers like Vea Harris.  What happened that summer with Norman was he made me think about why I was a Methodist and I realized over the next several months that I was a believer but in words only.  I had learned about Jesus and God and I also realized that even the devil and Judas and lots of folks believed in Jesus but obviously their relationship was flawed.  There is more to this story but let me summarize for tonight:

What did I learn from the Osage:

•  It is good to believe but you need to figure things out for yourself so that it has real meaning (personalize it)
• I believed in George Washington and Jesus but I did not have a relationship with either
• Planting wheat produces wheat - planting good seed produces good seed
• Harvest what you plant - Norman planted and someone else harvested, Thanks for planting OC

 Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Tornados and my first Love

I think I was always a little romantic and maybe it was because of my mom.  Now don't jump to conclusions because I guarantee you will be wrong.  Mom was one of the most persistent and hard working folks you will ever know, even today (another story). 

She ironed everything and I think she put starch in my underwear because she wanted everything to be neat.  Come to think of it they were a little itchy and Aunt Peggy Heath (Jimmy's aunt as well) always told me to stop scratching my butt (I would not have used that word but-t-t-t- it was the truth).  Anyway Mom really did iron and starch my sheets and t-shirts, shirts and bluejeans.  And now you are wondering how that relates to tornadoes and my first love. 

Well Mom ironed everyday at about noon when "The Edge of Night" came on.  She didn't watch much TV and in fact you couldn't if you wanted to because we only got two stations, 2 and 6.  I was jealous of the Snyder's and the Heath's because they got channel 5.  And as a side note that is why I have emotional issues today since I never got to see HoHo the Clown, just kidding. 

Ok here is a side story again.  I have this friend named Jim Hampton who does insurance for a lot of folks and in particular group insurance with his company, Birchall and Hampton.  Jim is always joking around and a jovial kind of guy as well as his partner, Bill Birchall.  One day I went to visit Jim at his office and right inside the door is the biggest picture you ever saw of HOHO.  Well that turned my mouth on and I announced that the picture was appropriate for those two clowns.  Have you ever regretted you said something but it was too late?  HoHO was Bill's dad and had passed away.  Those two guys enjoyed making me feel bad.

Back to "The Edge of Night".  I watched too much of that romantic stuff I guess because I became a softy/romantic.  Well if you remember those Home Demonstration Club meetings (Jeri Rash Robertson knows all about them) there was one at our house on Beaver Creek and that is where I fell in love the first time.  You see Denise Logue was there with her mom and she was all dressed up.  By the way we were 5 years old.  Denise and I were outside playing when this tornado came and to protect her I hurried her to the barn west of the house (yes there use to be a barn west of the house-it is gone now).  We stood there in the door of the barn holding hands (Heart goes thump thump thump) as the tornado went by.  Did I mention that it was really a dust devil? 

Well what did I learn in the Osage:

•  If you act with confidence and scare a girl you can hold their hand
• Don't put starch in the underwear
• One heart throb means a lifetime of memories

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Preston loves Head Country - and what about that cannon?

You make us proud!

Preston eating his favorite breakfast food - Head Country on Cheese and whole wheat

Harold Codding commented on your photo.

Harold wrote:

"I actually buy a bottle or two every time I go to OK just so I will never run out.  I can DRINK this stuff! And, everyone who ever tastes it at my house always wants a bottle for themselves!"

Cheryl Robinson Cranford commented on your photo.

Cheryl wrote:

"When Head Country was still in Shidler (mid-70's), I worked for them part-time.  I used to go to grocery stores in Ponca City, etc. and sell bbq sandwiches 4 for a dollar to get people hooked so they'd buy the bbq sauce!  That was when they were first getting their product on the shelves in stores.  Good stuff!"

Sandy Aldrich commented on your photo.

Sandy wrote:

"We love head country BQ Sauce.  Good choice, Preston."

 

Russell Whiles commented on your photo.

Russell wrote:

"The young fellow has most excellent taste! A side note here...Karen and I worked in the Head Country Plant, for almost a year...she on the bottling crew, and I as the Sauce Cook! Eat more sauce!"

Danny really did put Shidler on the map.  I remember Bud and Tom Head brewing up a batch at their house when I was growing up.  They lived just west of Benny, Paul and Cathy Eaton's house (just a little trivia to show you I did not forget everything).  Bud and Tom were farmers and ranchers like everyone else but they were also welders and could fix about anything.  But what everyone knew them for was their sauce and how they roasted chicken and beef on an outdoor grill they built.  Each year there were several events where their bar-b-q was the food for the night with their sauce.  It does not get any better than HEAD COUNTRY.  If you look on the bottle Danny has honored them with the cattle brand from the ranch on every bottle.

One more thing:  Danny has a cannon pointing at my house on the lake and that does not seem so friendly.  What do you think?  How would you feel if someone pointed a cannon at you?

Thanks for the memories.

and 

Thanks for your time,

gary@thepioneerman.com

Smurfs plus Waffle House make a Great Daughter

plus

Smurfs and Waffle House memories

Every Dad wants to brag on their children but what I want to do is tell you about the great memories of raising my daughter and the rewards of spending time with your children.

Wynter was born in Hoffman Estates, Illinois (pronounced Illinoi) at a very early age on November 26th, 1979.  It snowed that day and that gave us her name.  I was working for a bank and developing computer systems to make processing checks faster and less labor intensive.  Anyway, shortly after she was born about December 17th, 1979 we flew to Oklahoma for Christmas vacation to share our first child with the rest of the family.  Dad met us at the airport and I was shocked as he looked like he was not doing very well.  As it turned out he had colon cancer and had surgery in 1980.  But that shock made me evaluate living so far from Oklahoma and our roots.  It also reminded me how important it was for me to grow up with my grandparents, Olaf and Mary Olson, in Grainola.  I wanted the same for my children (only one at this point).  So February 28th 1980 we moved back to Oklahoma where the WIND swept NOT gently down the plains.

In defense of Oklahoma here is a side story.  Shouna and I lived in Chicago area for five years where I worked for EDS in downtown Chicago and Shouna went to the Conservatory of Music on Michigan Avenue across the street from the Chicago Art Museum where Kenny Kelsey worked.  What a small world?  Well I have to tell you the wind in Chicago is brutal during the winter whipping around those buildings while dragging the moisture off Lake Michigan and temperatures near zero most of the winter, not just two weeks a year.  We walked well over a quarter mile to a half mile in that weather from the train each day.  The first year there we got a small snow October 3rd and I think that same snow was there in May the next year.  I want you to know we loved Chicago and both days of summer are beautiful (that was a joke).  Spring and fall are fabulous but winter is brutal.  One last piece of trivia, Shouna got within a couple of feet of Prince Charles when he visited the art museum.  Oh ya, and one more piece of trivia.  Sally (Shumate) and Darrel Stinchcomb came and visited one year and on July 4th we were out on the lake in a boat and we like to froze to death because it was cold and we had no coats.

Back to Wynter (my daughter not the weather), she changed my life.  I slowed down my driving because of her the day she was born.  I used to sit and hold her everyday after work and rock and sing to her (I worked way too many hours).  At least I sang to her until she was old enough to say, "stop singing".  Come to think of it, Maggie Olsen did the same thing to me but she kicked me out of choir.  I am sure I did not deserve it and if I did Jon Tanny should have been kicked out too because he was always part of the same problem I created if that were possible.  Anyway Wynter and I watched the Smurfs every Saturday together and we went to the Waffle House every Saturday to eat those buttermilk waffles.  Wynter could talk for hours even when she was a baby.  She would make up jokes and tell stories like you have never heard.   My two boys never got those two privileges and I don't really know why.  But those memories of spending time with her have been great for me and great for her.

A small side note:  Her most famous joke was, "what is green and makes holes?"  There is only one person who ever got the answer right and it was John Bernard who now lives in Wichita Falls.  Did I ever tell you about how John kicked out our bedroom door and shattered the glass?

I would like to take credit for how she turned out but the truth is her mother had a much greater influence.  Wynter went to OBU in Shawnee and then became a missionary in Chicago and San Francisco helping the homeless.  After about five years she moved back to Oklahoma via Texas (another story) and now she is the director of Wings (www.wingsok.org) a non-profit that is focused on providing jobs and improving the lives of adults with special needs.  She also married the guy living in our cottage, William, a very nice guy from Columbia.

Well you must wonder what this has to do with the Osage.  Values!

What did Wynter learn from the Osage?

• The value of people
• Time is more important than material things - spend time with your kids
• Love is learned by what you do not by what you say but say, "I love you" anyway

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

There is a Motorcycle in my bucket list

Now I am not suggesting anyone go out and buy a motorcycle but my son Chase and I have talked for years about going to Sturgis together and if you don't know what that means you have not been there.  Basically it is the national motorcycle rally with well over 250,000 motorcycles gathering together during 10 days of the summer.  If you want to check it out here is their web page: http://www.sturgismotorcyclerally.com/

Sturgis is a bunch of folks who grew up in the 60's who never got over their youth.  It is basically men with white hair and a lot of pony tails and lots of leather.  

Chase - home from his first trip to Sturgis

You will notice it is not a picture of Chase and me home from our first trip to Sturgis and that is the story.

As you can see I went out and purchased a beautiful Road King Classic and signed up for motorcycle lessons.  The great thing about those lessons is you ride little 250cc motorcycles that belong to the instructor, not you.  Just as you can imagine the instructor had a little of a rough edge and demeanor, kinda like a motorcycle guy.  

Side story here:  I know everyone has an image of motorcycle folks like Hell's Angels etc. and so did I, and do I.  But back to the story of Preston, our 23 year old son with Down syndrome, he loves everyone.  When he was about 10 years old we were at a McDonalds and in came this big, no neck, motorcycle guy with a very thick and wiry beard who when he smiled looked like an arm pit with teeth.  Preston jumped up and hi-fived him and said, "hey man, what ya doin".  They ate together and we became friends.  Preston taught me that folks of all sizes and shapes and whatever, are people and you just need to spend time and get to know them, even if they look like an arm pit with teeth.  Oh ya, did I mention the tattoos?  Jiminy Christmas, he had em!

Ok, back to the motorcycle class.  On the last day of class on the final obstacle course of the class I hit some gravel and laid down my practice bike with me on it.  I broke my leg.

After being on crutches for 3 months they decided it was not healing properly so I got to have surgery.  A steel plate, 8 screws and 3 more months on a walker and crutches then about 6 months of additional pain and another surgery to take out the plate and screws which were rubbing my ligaments in my leg and creating much pain then another 3 months on walker and crutches then I could ride my motorcycle.  Oh, yes I did pass the exam and have a bonified motorcycle license today.

I rode my beautiful Road King Classic about 16 miles, TOTAL.  There is actually more to this story but you get the picture.

What did I learn?

•  Little motorcycles are dangerous just like big ones
•  Always wear a helmet
• Try everything in the bucket list
• and of course from Preston I learned to not pre-judge - don't assume

Thanks for your time,

gary@thepioneerman.com

Good Morning Lord - The Book Business

A little different today.

Have you ever woke up and just felt heavy in your demeanor?  Well I did today and let me tell you what I have done about it and maybe it will encourage you.

The first thing I do is (after getting showered, dressed, shaved, etc.) go get a cup of coffee at McDonalds at Memorial and Bryant.  So if you ever want to talk, come by there about 7:00 to 8:00 and I will be there reading.  I wish I could say I was doing my Bible study but the fact is I read the paper today and thought about what had to be done today.  After that I did pray for a few folks and asked God to help me figure things out so that my mind could get back on track.  Then I did something I learned selling books door to door during college.

I guess I should tell you a little about that first.  You see Harold Codding (Chuckles) had sold books the previous summer while at OSU (Oklahoma State University).  Now you probably wonder why I clarified that.  Another story, which I will tell right now.

Harold Codding

After college I went to work for EDS which was owned by Ross Perot (yes, the short guy with big ears from Dallas) and during my career I lived in several places but one of which was Chicago.  I was amazed for a while that OSU was in the papers quit often and how well they were doing in football.  After a few days I realized it was not our OSU but Ohio's.

Ok, back to the story.  Harold came home that summer with a check for something north of $5,000 and I thought that was fantastic.  So I called him up and asked how could I make that kind of money in the summer.  Come to find out Neal McConaghy, and Glen McConaghy and many others from the area had done the same thing.  (please let me know if you were a book man) Well during those summers there was a tendency to get down (depressed) after knocking on door after door in the county around Corbin, Kentucky.  That may sound hard or it may sound easy but let me tell you it was one of the most difficult jobs of my life.  Just to give you and idea here is a story from Marc Whitt:

Marc Whitt - Green Beret

Marcus wrote: "Gary, I was a "book man". I worked the summer of 1967 (before being taken to the Army Recruiter by my Dad; and that is another story). I sold a three book set of Bible reference books (Bible Story Book, Bible Reference Book and Bible Encyclopaedia; I think that is what they were called.) Anyway, I worked under Buddy Curnutt and walked the streets and rode bicycles in Terra Haute,IN. I was not a good salesman and felt sorry for a lot of the people we were to "focus on" and ended up giving away a lot of books. I ended up at the end of the summer OWING Southwestern Publising almost $400!!"

One of the things they taught you was how to overcome a since of doubt or depression or self pity.  So what I did this morning was the same thing I learned from Harold 40 years ago in Kentucky.  I stepped out and said:

"TWO FOR FIVE, MAN ALIVE, AIN'T IT GREAT TO BE ALIVE"

Actually I have a bazillion of these sayings and they ring true today at 58 years old just like they did when I was 18.  If that does not help you then stand outside in the street or on the sidewalk in front of folks, pound your chest like a monkey and say,

"Good Morning Lord, Two for Five Man Alive Ain't it Great to Be Alive".

Have a Great Day,
Thanks for your time,
gary@thepoineerman.com

Letterman's’ Club–Shidler Tigers

Luckily during my class year the requirements to join the Lettermen's Club were not so strict but this is a true story for previous years to remember.  I will be real curious who can verify or add to this story.  Certainly it is a classic.  by an Anonymous follower of thepioneerman.com
Dear Old Shidler High.
The Lettermen's' Club had already been formed, and belonging was a goal for every young jock. At one point in time, it became necessary to initiate a group of newbies into the Club, and that was to happen inside the gym. On the appointed evening, dads and sons converged, and the process began. Some of us were trembling, if not visibly on the outside, then at least on the inside, because stories had circulated that involved goats and other stuff that we might be required to be involved with, as part of the initiation. Seeing no goats in the gym, I for one breathed a bit easier...this obviously would not be as bad as we had conjured up!
The instructions came down, for the first part of the ceremony. We were to proceed into the girls' locker room and take all our clothes off. We were each handed a marshmallow, and with the marshmallow, the rules....  Well, we all have cheeks on our face, with our mouths between. And, we all have another set of cheeks...yep, that's right! Our task was to run full-throttle around the inside of the gym, one lap, with that marshmallow wedged as tightly as possible between those OTHER cheeks. Were the marshmallow to drop out during the run, the inductee would need to do it over!
Needless to say, not one among us wanted to drop that sweet treat, so TIGHT was the name of that game, and the run commenced. Everyone made it just fine, as I recall, back into the girls' locker room, and then the true nature of what our dads had done to us soaked in. You understand that in the running process, motion and friction between those cheeks happens, and the effect of that motion and friction on a marshmallow basically reduces the white sugar to VERY STICKY goo!
I don't even remember how the cleaning process went down, and that was only the beginning of the initiation! Other stuff we were required to do needs to come from some other source...help us out, here men! That is my contribution, and it just makes me tired...and so pleased to have been a Shidler Tiger Letterman!
Well this might be a stretch but what did you learn from the Osage:

• If you are making smoores look close at those marshmallows
• There is always a price to pay
• Examine the risk and reward before you commit to an investment

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Will you make a difference?

I have posted two stories today and one of them is an invitation to you so be sure and read two stories and both are short.

This is a true story that has happened over the last year and it represents the values of individuals and what I think comes from the Osage.

There is a young man who has down syndrome who struggles with communicating the basic things in life.  He loves people (shouldn't we) and he never meets a stranger because he does not care what your color is or what you look like, where you have been or where you are going.  He does not care how rich or how poor you are or considers the house you live in or the car you drive.  To him you are a person and you have value.  If you ask him to pray for you he will NOT forget and he will not say he will pray and then never follows through.  He prays for the al-Quida and he prays for the President, just like the Bible teaches.  He does not care if you have tattoos or ear rings or nose rings (I have to admit I do).  He does not judge in a critical way.  You can sure tell it is not me.

He struggles keeping a job because he does not understand when people laugh and he might tell you to "shut up" not because you were wrong in your laughter but because he does not understand.  He wants a job.  Not because he needs money but because he wants the satisfaction of a job.  He is great at busing tables and great at rolling flatware into napkins and he does not hesitate to clean up someone else's mess.

But here is a story he created but not intentionally.  The names have been changed but I want you to hear how you can make a difference just by being a friend.  That boy with down syndrome is our son, Preston, age 23.

Preston - Ranger by uniform and prayer worrier

Steve Davis - Ranger and cousin who gave Preston his uniform shipped from Afghanistan

This is a summary of an email by my wife:

Over the last year Preston has built a friendship with two employees of a local convenience store in Edmond, Martha and Brad.  My wife shared a piece of literature from our church with Brad who had become a close friend of Preston.   Brad resigned from his job but this opened the door as one of the girls, Martha asked Shouna and Preston to pray for her.  This week she shared with Shouna the need to try God's ways in her life as her ways were not working.  Today, Shouna asked her to be in a Bible study and she said, "that would be a very good idea and my friend would probably like to come as well." 


What did I learn from Preston who has down syndrome:

•  We can all make a difference if we just try to be friendly
• Don't ever judge 
• Be consistent in caring for people
• We can change the world, one friend at a time

Challenge yourself to do something for somebody even if you do not feel like it, it makes a difference.

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

An Invitation to visit the gardens-- April 2nd --

 It is a little early for the azaleas but there are lots of things in bloom.  Shouna and I invite you to come to the garden at our house to walk around and visit but I have to warn you we will be dressed to work in the garden as we expect a beautiful day so we can get some things done.

This Saturday from 3:00 to 5 the gardens are open but we have to leave shortly after 5.  Bring your cameras if you are like me and have the hobby.

If you are thinking about coming, send an email to thepioneerman.com and don't expect us to remember everyone's name.  We are getting older and now we have an excuse.

gary@thepioneerman.com

Salt Creek Bridge - not just another bridge

 


Here is another story about one of the bridges in the Osage.  

Now this is not the Salt Creek Bridge but you will remember it looked just like this one and it took people to a lot of places like the water falls and the Phillips Park (another bunch of stories).  This bridge was south of Shidler on OLD Highway 18, across Salt Creek, before the Highway got rerouted across the new bridge. Immediately south of the old bridge was a dirt road to the east, along the creek. That road went to the Shidler golf course, where Russell Whiles had a summer job as keeper of the "greens".   I  (thepioneerman) learned to play golf there and one of my best memories was Becky Sharp who was about the best golfer I ever played with.  When her family got moved to Borger, Texas and the North Sea, Shidler lost a great family.  It seems we lost a lot of families to those same towns plus  Bartlesville.

Now back to Russell:

The greens at this golf course were unique, made of oiled SAND! My job was to push a mower around the course and mow the tight spots near greens and tees, where the tractors could not mow...AND, to RAKE the greens! Raking a green was done by dragging a very heavy rake around the green (each green had one); beginning at the cup in the center and raking in concentric circles spiraling outward to the edge of the green. The rakes were heavy because they were cut
from a length of steel pipe, maybe 2 or 3 inches diameter and about 24 inches long. The pipe was split long-wise, and a long handle welded to one side of a half-pipe, with serrated teeth cut into the edge opposite the handle. After I raked each green with serrated spiral patterns, the golfers would use the smooth side of the same rake to drag a smooth putting path, from the cup out toward their ball.

Done for the day, I usually hoofed it down to the intersection by the bridge to wait for a ride. On this particular day, I spotted a HUGE wasp nest, very high in a tree by the road, and doing what boys do, I found a suitable rock to throw. My confidence level was low, thinking it mostly an impossible shot at
that angle and such a height, but my desire to try was strong.

The movie Field of Dreams had not been conceived, so the line had not been heard, "If you build it, they will come".   In the case of wasps and their nests, more accurately, "If you bust it, they will
come"! I did, and they did!  I turned on a dime...that Salt Creek Bridge was the only escape, my salvation! Mom picked me up on the other side of the bridge, that day, un-stung and triumphant, bragging even today on that throw!

Thanks Russell for a great story and a great memory.

What do you learn from the Osage?



·   Grass is always greener at a golf course besides ours in Shidler
·  Growing up the grass seemed greener and we moved away but now the grass IS GREENER in the   Osage
·  Home is where the heart is, the Osage

Thanks for your time,

gary@thepioneerman.com

Russell Whiles - Denoya Camp stories

You cannot live in the Osage without a story about living in the camps and Russell Whiles of Ponca had a few memories to share and I bet everyone can relate.  Thanks Russell.

I would have graduated with the class of 1966, had I stayed in school over there. As it turned out, however, my folks purchased a small restaurant over in Ponca City, and our family left its Phillips roots and moved to Ponca, where I did my Junior and Senior years. Having arrived in the oil field when I was maybe two years old, the first house was west of Shidler, in the small community of Denoya. My main memory from there was when my mom went into an absolute tizzie over finding a rather large and scary  scorpion in the bath tub. Shortly thereafter, we moved into a house in one of the many oil field "camps". 

Each camp had either a name, or a number, or both. Ours was #32, or Vinnedge...Or Vintage...I don't recall ever seeing it spelled out anywhere. There were other names like Bell and Big Bertha. #32 was laid out at the four-way stop one mile west of Webb City, running north, along the west side of the road. We lived at the north end, last house, and the magnificent maple tree with the best tree house in the country was in our front yard. A few years ago, that tree was still standing, although in some disarray. And, on all the ground between that tree and Stink Creek, to the north, grew one of the most prolific veggie gardens I have ever seen! I can still taste the sweet peas, fresh off the vines!

Oil field camps were long rows of houses where many of the Phillips employees lived, and each camp was unique, forming a small neighborhood, where everybody knew all the neighbors, and who was grouchy, and who lived with whatever ailments, and where a kid could get cookies once in a while. We grew extremely adept at walking atop the pipe fences, all the way from one end to the other, and back. Of course, that involved a learning curve, as we acquired our balance, and slips and falls were part of it, most memorably when we came down hard astraddle of the pipe!

The camps had some of the most prolific catalpa trees anywhere...prolific in the number of long "beans" they produced. Collecting those beans and whipping them through the air at your adversary in the next tree...those were the Bean Wars that occupied many Summer hours.

Sleeping under the stars, we learned many of the constellations, and even spotted the Sputnik, on numerous starry nights. Abundant mischief needed done, on those long hot nights, and sleep came much later.

As we got older, we were allowed to venture away from the camp, and scouting the countryside, we created the endless adventure that was kid-life in the oil patch. Out in the fields were even bigger pipes to walk on, maybe 8 or ten inch pipelines, some built above the ground and resting on braces, much like the Alaska Pipeline. And, where those pipes crossed a gully or ravine had a special draw for us. Those were places where our balancing abilities would either save our lives and limbs, or not. I can recall making it out over the deepest part of the ravine, and sitting down on the pipe, to ponder the rest of the day. We might have our BB guns with us, and those perches provided excellent sniper positions.

In the Winter, we explored just as hard as we did in Summer. A very hard freeze would make it possible for our light bodies to walk out on the pond ice. Couldn't attempt it with today's heavier bodies, and surely should not have done it then. The ice test was simply to walk gingerly, and listen to the cracking sounds, and go where the sounds seemed more diminished. And the adventure was even more fun when used our BB guns to bounce BB's off the ice and hit each other in the legs!

Neighborhood gatherings were always fun, and one of the frequent occasions were the thunderstorms. Especially the violent ones. For every few houses in the camp, there was a huge storm shelter...#32 had four or five of them, and some were fit for humans to be in...the others held water at various depths. The cellars with water worked fine as fish bait storage facilities, or live wells, to keep a stringer of fish in until they got cleaned. One even had loose fish swimming around that we could fish for. The dry shelters had wooden benches along each side, and candles, maybe a chair or two, and a special cool, damp, underground smell spiced with candle smoke. The smell was a good enough reason to go down there! The ladies and kids would stay in the shelter as the storm raged, sometimes for quite a while into the evening, and moms had brought blankets to bed us down on the benches, as they talked mom-talk and played cards. The men stood outside as long as they could, watching the skies, talking man-talk.

Playing cards was huge among the adults. Games would go late into the evening, at one house or another, and whenever bath time came along for the kids, we all got dumped into the same tub of water, frequently together, no matter if we were little boys or little girls. Then came time to go to sleep, and kids were everywhere, on furniture and on floors, and the low murmur of voices at the card table droned on and ran together, and good sleep came!

tid-bit was how to build a skateboard. It was a bit traumatic, to dismantle our beloved old steel roller skates, but the excitement was there...we had to do it, in order that we have two halves. Nail the front half near the front of a wooden board, and the rear half near the back, and voila! They worked famously, and some of us developed a real knack for skateboarding...without protective gear. Back at the 4-way intersection, we would head south, down the east side of the road, where there was an old concrete slab and other structures, from an old gasoline plant, or something. A lot of clean-up effort later, we actually had a pretty fun and challenging skateboard facility, and spent hours learning the moves. 

Bikes became very significant in later years. The big flat-top hill west of #32 we called Bowman's Hill. One Summer, we learned that any number of reptiles lived on Bowman's Hill, and some of us collected an impressive variety, put them all together in a barrel, and showed our moms...snakes, horny toads, lizards, turtles...My memory is foggy, right after that...I don't think our moms were impressed! Bikes allowed us to go on those long excursions, and riding down the paved road a mile south, to Henry Hammer's little store, was a special treat. Those trips were usually justified if we had a few glass soda-pop bottles to return, for two cents each. And a trip to Hammer's was a whole lot smoother than a wild run at full throttle down the bare-naked side of Bowman's Hill, not on the road!

Some of the kids in #32 included Jerry Hill, Craig and Bill Lotz, Jimmy Gorley, Andy Clark, Mike and Janie McKee, Bonnie Gatewood, Kenny Bright, my own sister Sharon...many more golden memories to be told, for sure!



What did we learn from the Osage:

• The best of times are easier to see in the rears
• The best of times are what you make of them and still to come
• Friends are friends forever unless they were not friends to start with
• God blessed us to have Roots in the Osage

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com


Comments from readers:

Jim Davis9:53pm Apr 7th

Re: Good Stuff, Jim!

Russell,
I read your post in Home on the Range again tonight. It brought back a whole bunch of old memories again.
I hope this is not all redundant. I tried to post some of this information on the Home on the Range. I never saw it there so here goes another try.
I lived along the west side of the Denoya road. The Hathcoat home was at the corner of the where the road that lead west to Kaw City. Back a 100 yards or so on the west side of the There was a family that I can no longer remember the name of that lived a little south of them and on the west side of the road. Just a little further south was Taylor’ Store. South of the store a little ways the road split. Straight ahead on Denoya rd., I believe you could drive all the way to Old Highway 66 and go east to Pawhuska or west to Ponca City. If you turned left you went down a long hill to a pecan farm. The owner used to let anyone pick as many pecans as they want as long as you gave them half.
We lived there from 1948 to 1960. Our home was built by my Dad. A 100 yard or so north of the Hathcoats and across the road was Ed Connelly’s home. Someone live across the Denoya from them and someone lived just north of them. We lived maybe 100 yards northwest of the Connelly’s. Just southwest of the Connelly’s a short distance was the Bill & Wilma Eden. They had two kids both younger than me. Billy and a sister I cannot remember. I think they ran the Dixie Dog at one time. Due west of the Connelly’s maybe 200 yards were the Lees.
I had two brothers. My older brother is Don Davis. He graduated in 1960. He now lives in Mountain Home Arkansas. My younger brother is Glenn who was born in 1955. He now lives in Grey Lake Illinois.
I certainly remember a lot of stories I would like to pass along. My wife just got home so I am going to close and continue this later.

Jim Davis

Beaver Creek Bridge - Where does it go?

Well I am no Huck Finn and my life was never like his but these old bridges bring back a lot of memories and stories that ought to be preserved.  So please send me your stories.

This bridge is straight west of Grainola on the first road outside of Grainola on your way to Neal and Sue McConaghy's house.  This bridge can take you to a lot of places and in fact is has taken a lot of folks all over the world.  Today I will tell you just a few of the places it took me.

It was the turn around point on hundreds of quail hunting trips with my brother Larry (above).  Just a side note he just retired from Clemson University where he built from scratch a Bull Research Center (not to be confused with my stories which some say are full of bull, just a joke).  He made us all proud being a Dr. of Cowology, just kidding on the cowology.  He really is a PhD (stands for Piled high and deep, just kidding again).  He just happens to be the smart one in the family and more than anything he always knew what he wanted to do and was very focused.  He lives in Barnwell, South Carolina.  Back to the story:  Those quail hunting trips were some of the best times and we never had hunting dogs unless you count me as the dog.  I never minded crawling up and down those creek banks trying to jump a few quail.

the rows of cut hay are called wind rows.

That old bridge was also where you could stand and shoot turtles for hours if you were not caught by dad and solicited to get back to helping on the farm.  The Beaver Creek Bridge was right next to several hundred acres of farm land that we leased from Aunt Helen Conner (now she really was not my aunt but that is what we called her and I loved her just like family - and she was family).  I remember one year we planted wheat and as we were getting it ready to plant maize we needed to burn off the straw.  Well we took off the straw spreader on the combine which caused the straw to be put it in wind rows like the hay in the picture above.  Now Dad had a fun idea and that was I took a two gallon can of gasoline and ran as fast as i could pouring gasoline on those rows.  As soon as I was done Dad and I lit the straw with gasoline.  Wow, it was so cool as the fire chased the rows of hay back and forth across the field.  Now don't go play with fire and matches.

That bridge was also the way to Tanny and Nanny Olsen's place (those names are real and they did marry each other and yes we are relatives even though we don't spell it the same so stop asking questions).  The great thing about that was as soon as you crossed the bridge you could turn right and go down to Spec Weaver/Don Conner's old place or Soup's fishing hole or on around to the the rest of the world.  But if you crossed the cattle guard and went straight west it was open range country (bet you don't know what a cattle guard is?  or open range country) you would cross another bridge that crossed over about a 5 acre pond.  It was known for its fish and I loved it when dad would take off and we would go fishing there.  One time we met some friends there that had fished all night using trotlines.  The had about 20 catfish and the smallest was 16 lbs.  From there you would pass the big round barn which looks like a setting moon when you are back east.  Then on past the limestone hills and on to the train trestle.  Now that was really cool because for years that is where the trains crossed and that is also how all the cattle were taken to Kansas City and beyond.

But one year as the train had already been shut down the Trestle was to be removed.  That trestle was where you tested your nerve.  I believe it was Jay Olsen who was the last person to walk across the trestle before it was blows down with dynamite.  The fear was always getting caught on the trestle and a train would be coming but as far as I know no one ever got caught on the trestle when a train came.  Anyway there was a big gathering as the dynamite was put in place.  It took hours for them to plant the dynamite and it was like a big party.  But that day when they lit the fuse and the many cases of dynamite blew the trestle never moved.  I did not get to see it fall but it was like a party with everyone parked there watching all day.  A day or two later it fell after more dynamite had been planted.  It was really a shame to see it gone.

Man I can think of forty-eleven stories about that bridge and where it has taken me and I look forward to telling you more.

What did I learn from that old bridge:

• That bridge can take you wherever you can imagine but you make the choice
• That bridge or any bridge can be your bridge to nowhere or anywhere
• A bridge allows you or me to "seize the day"
• I have been blessed by God and by that old bridge 

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com