From Tulsa, OK to Oklahoma City, OK
From Tulsa, OK to Oklahoma City, OK
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I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up at 3:30 after going to sleep around midnight. I tried to go back to sleep but decided to stop fighting my body. So I sat up and did some journals for the website. I stayed at a Super 8 Motel last night. These are very blue collar establishments. Pretty comfortable with good facilities. A lot of truckers and laborers of different kinds stay here. When I usually get out of bed, most of the other guests are long gone. This morning I notice the rhythm of the place pick up around 5:00 AM.
I get dressed and wander out to the adjacent Waffle House for breakfast. These places are always an amazing panorama of America. Today, the night cook is having breakfast. He is sort of a skinhead guy, lots of tattoos and is sitting next to me at the counter. He is unnaturally animated this morning while he has breakfast and waits for his ride. A new employee arrives. No one working seems to really want to deal with her. The cook gives her a uniform shirt. She does nothing. I think he expected her to get into it so they could start work. She just sits at the counter, holding the shirt and staring off into space. A Dad is having breakfast with his young son. He is complimenting his son on his skill and enthusiasm at Little League. He basically tells the boy that the rest of his team mates are slugs and the coach is a loser.
The road into Tulsa was very familiar but I still manage to miss the off ramp from I-44 to US 75 twice, once from west and east. The economic boom has been kind to the Tulsa region. I notice a lot of new business along the roads. I haven't been here since 1998 and there are many changes in the past three years. This continues all the way down to Okmulgee.
In Okmulgee, the first thing I notice is that the old oil refinery is gone. It has long been an eyesore on the northern approach to town. Lots of little changes -- new business, old business fixed up, new motels and new homes. Okmulgee looks better than I can ever remember.
In Okmulgee, I'm visiting the world's largest xanthan gum factory -- owned by my previous employer. worked with a number of people here over the years and wanted to say hello and visit for a while. I had a nice visit with Jim, Dana, Kitty, Myrna, Betty, Levy and Mike. Jim took me out for a kick ass barbecue lunch. It was good to see old friends and reminisce.
The ride south from Okmulgee is more attractive than the ride from Tulsa to Okmulgee. This trip has really changed my outlook on Oklahoma. I've really judged the whole state by my work experience and I'm sensing that wasn't a fair assessment.
The
ride along Interstate 40 is nice. The weather is beautiful and the
road is good. After a short while, I spot a big touring bike ahead of
me. I slowly overtake the two riders. We wave and I continue ahead of
them. I pull off at a casino / gas station. The pair follow me up the
off ramp and pull alongside me in the parking lot. They are traveling
back from southeast Oklahoma. They highly recommend this area as a
motorcycle destination -- nice roads and some excellent bed and
breakfasts.
He is part of a motorcycle riding family. His Intruder is very new but not so new that he hasn't added some nice customizations: a great gel seat (I could use that) and a cool front fender ornament that lights up at night. They are both nice. I get a pic of them by their bike and he takes a picture of his wife and me with my bike. They have to skedaddle not because they left the kids alone but rather because she has a standing nail appointment.
By the time I get to Oklahoma City, I am really hot and sweaty. It has been warm all day. I notice the time/temp sign at a bank that indicates 85 degrees at 4:30. I'm staying at The Habana Inn -- a big gay resort in Oklahoma City (of all places). It is very nice, much better than the place in Orlando. A renovated motel it features two pools, two bars and some merchandise stores. I have dinner at the restaurant -- adequate but not memorable either as bad or good.
I drag myself out of bed at a reasonable hour. I'm going to go to Cattleman's Cafe for breakfast on the recommendation of the book, "Eat Your Way Across the USA." This restaurant has been open since the 30s adjacent to the massive Oklahoma City stockyards. The restaurant is known for its 'perfect steaks.' I find it very easily -- Oklahoma City may well have one of the most straightforward street system.
The Cafe is very dark and cool inside. It has the leatherette seats with lots of cattle related decorations on all walls: paintings, branding irons and other cowboy-cana. Breakfast is a great steak cooked to perfection. The steak is accompanied by two eggs, fantastic hash browns and biscuits and gravy. It is a big heavy breakfast and it is done perfectly. I really enjoy it -- breakfast is definitely my favorite meal of the day.
Oklahoma City has undertaken an urban renewal project in a neighborhood called Bricktown. There is a baseball stadium in the Camden Yards / Coors Field tradition scaled down to minor league proportions. There are a number of restaurants and entertainment venues in cleaned up brick warehouse buildings. The focus of the area is a canal modeled on San Antonio's River Walk. The problem is that about 75% of the canal is sort of a trip to nowhere. In time, I think the blank spots will fill in pretty nicely. But for now, it is an easy target for some of the locals I talk to.
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I'm pleasantly surprised when I get to the memorial. The design is beautiful and understated, the overall effect is calming. The memorial is made up of a serious of symbolic elements: the memorial fence, the gates of time, a reflecting pool, field of empty chairs, survivor tree and surrounding grove.
Looking across the reflecting pool at the field of empty chairs and the Old Church.
The field of empty chairs.
A missed birthday remembered.
From behind the field of empty chairs. The 9:01 gate is to the right. The Survivor Tree is just at the left side of this picture.
Survivor Tree from behind the Empty Chairs. |
I approached from the west. The memorial fence is on the side of the memorial site. The fence is a chain link fence holding thousands of artifacts placed by visitors. There are children's toys, stuffed toys, name badges, police and fire badges and patches, notes, photos -- pretty much anything. It is a touching scene that I only glance at on my way into the memorial proper. I enter through the West Gate of Time that is inscribed as 9:03. The two gates stand at opposite ends of the site, one inscribed 9:01 and the other 9:03. The gates thus frame the site physically and focus our attention on 9:02 -- the time of the explosion. Each gate consists of two walls with a small passage way cut into both walls. A series of ramps and stairs move you from the street level to the plaza level between the two walls. They create a clear sense of leaving one world and entering a space that is not defined by other walls or roof. The reflecting pool stretches between two gates. It is very shallow and is paved with polished black stone. To my right are the empty chairs -- each one representing a victim. I walk to the opposite side of the pool, not ready yet to confront the the most human part of this tragedy. The opposite side of the plaza is a series of low rock walls that form a series of grassy benches rising up to the Survivor Tree. I sit on the bottom wall near the Survivor Tree. A children's choir is singing really smarmy hymns under the tree. At first I'm annoyed by their presence but quickly decide that if there is a time and place for it, this is probably it. I ignore the lyrics and just concentrate on the sweet voices and pleasant harmonies. A TV reporter and his camera crew set up near me for an interview with one of the staff members for the site. The ruling has just come down that will move McVeigh to execution early next week. This is really my reason for coming to Oklahoma City. I continue to have problems in understanding the need for this execution. I don't understand the need by the survivors and victim families to see him executed. On TV interviews, they say they need it for closure. I don't know how it will help except that closure is more politically correct than revenge or vengeance. I find it even more perplexing given the high profile of religion in this part of the country. This is both tornado country and the Bible Belt. While not a Christian scholar, the need to kill McVeigh as punishment seems to sit squarely against Christian dogma. On the memorial fence, there is a WWJD? (What Would Jesus Do?) bracelet. I find great irony in that artifact: What indeed would be the reaction? I decide that good taste precludes me from asking these questions of any of the people at the memorial site today as I had hoped to do. It seems like too much of an intrusion at a time where the whole matter is coming to a head. The empty chairs are arranged in nine long rows. Each row represents a floor of the building. Each chair is inscribed with the name of the person that it memorializes. They are placed in the row that corresponds to the floor they were on when they were murdered. There are small chairs to represent the infants and children that were murdered. It is a somber field of remembrance. Balloons adorn one chair announcing a missed birthday. Those balloons really personalize the hideous way one man interrupted so many lives. As I leave, I spend some time on the memorial fence. It is really touching. In some ways good touching and in some ways bad touching. So many people died -- there are so many touching letters of remembrance. One in particular is in my memory. The writer memorializes a daughter that is now gone. The letter ends with a condemnation of McVeigh's parents for bringing such evil into this world. This visit has actually added questions for me, not helped me to sort things out. |
Violence as a way of achieving justice is both impractical and immoral. It is impractical because it is a descending spiral ending in destruction for all. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding; it seeks to annihilate rather than to convert. Violence is immoral because it thrives on hatred rather than love.
It is now the heat of the late afternoon. I go back to the hotel
for a swim and later stop by Braums for a cherry / lime slush. Boy is
that refreshing. I'm still full from the big Cattleman's breakfast.
I have a nice late afternoon nap and then head out to an adjacent gay club for a beer or two. Its a nice enough place but very plain. The locals are very chummy and comes off as not too friendly.
Back at the hotel, I wander down to the country-western bar. The music is really good tonight although they are showing CMT videos. The music and the video aren't in synch and sometimes it is really confusing. The mind is amazing how it will struggle to line up a male voice with a female image.
I
get talking to a guy who turns out to be a commercial truck driver.
He is in his mid-thirties and only started driving about three years
ago. I've always been very interested in this profession and
lifestyle so for once on this trip it is my turn to ask a lot of
questions. He used to have a 'normal' job but always wanted to drive
a truck. A bout with cancer kicked him in the ass to do what he
thought he really wanted to do. He loves it. The truck is his little
empire. He loves traveling and seeing new things. He works for a
nationwide carrier and selects his loads to get him to places he
wants to visit. He has a home in Indianapolis that he visits about
every three weeks. It actually sounds like a fun life.
I
ask him if I can see the inside of the truck -- I've always been
curious as hell. So out we go. He has a big red Kenworth with sleeper
cab. The truck is an automatic but the dashboard has dozens of
switches. I learn how the trailer is hitched and unhitched. I learn
about moving the tongue to balance the load over the axles correctly.
The cab also includes a TV, refrigerator and air conditioning. There
are drawers and a lighted coat closet. The bed is huge and the
overhead is tall enough that I can stand between the two front seats
on my way to the back of the cab. That was a very interesting visit.
Thanks Tim!
Tim and I took pictures the following morning. Mine isn't terribly flattering but here it is for your approval.
This
isn't Tim's truck but I took the picture as my favorite placement of
a gay identity symbol that I have seen so far on this trip.
Continue reading as I go to Kansas City
Depart Catoosa (east Tulsa suburb) on Interstate 44 heading west.
South and west of Tulsa, transition onto US Route 75 heading south.
At 20th Avenue in Okmulgee, turn right to CP Kelco factory.
Depart factory eastbound on 20th Avenue.
Turn onto US 75 heading south.
At Interstate 40, transition onto I-40 heading west.
Just east of downtown Oklahoma City, transition onto I-35 heading north.
At intersection with I-44, transition onto I-44 heading west.
Arrive Oklahoma City, OK
(c) 2001 Thomas N. Engler Revision Date: 06/11/2001
