Skip to main content

In praise of the Okies...

This November, the State of Oklahoma becomes a senior citizen.

It’s our 100th birthday.

And what a century it’s been.

Born amid the flurry of horse’s hooves and billowing dust clouds, the Sooner State came into the union as an awkward, rough-and-tumble child.

We started out with a “boom.”

The agriculture and oil industries flexed their financial muscles and the 46th state of the union quickly took off.

We fought over a capital and even today, continue the argument.

By the 1930s, the rains would stop.

And the fields — like the oil and agricultural revenue — would dry up and, literally, blow away.

Some would migrate to California.

Those who remained became Okies.

And whether you agreed with John Steinbeck or not, it seemed — at the time — that the Almighty was angry with us; still we continued. Slowly, we regained our footing and rebuilt what we had lost.

We’ve had our share of saints and scoundrels — men and women who, for better or worse, left their mark on the Land of the Red Man.

The legacy continues.

By the 1950s, Oklahoma began to take its place on the national stage; from our borders came global leaders with new ideas and the iron will put see them accomplished.

But the poorest of us remained the same.

Illiteracy, hunger and gut-wrenching poverty hovered like a plague, dampening our spirits and slowing — or stopping — the progress we’d worked so hard to accomplish.

Still, we stood firm.

Despite the dust bowls, floods or the prairie’s version of the hurricane, we picked ourselves up, dusted off our bluejeans, and started over.

“We’re the people,” Ma Joad said.

It wasn’t an insult but a statement of fact.

Seventy years later, on a bright, cool spring day, a twisted, sick terrorist would try to destroy those people.

A building bombed, hundreds — including, small, helpless children — were killed. Hundreds more injured.

We survived.

Timothy McVeigh’s expression of contempt failed.

And, instead, the down-to-earth goodness and decency of the average Oklahoman, was viewed on a global scale.

With tears in our eyes, we buried our dead.

Then turned our attention toward the living.

We prayed.

And somewhere, deep inside us, we found the will to, once again, stand and go forward.

We’d need that strength.

Less than a decade later, nature would throw her worst at us — Okies living in Moore, Bridge Creek, Del City and in other towns, would experience the fastest winds ever recorded on the face of the earth.

Once again they stood firm.

Churches took in storm refugees and opened their buildings and their hearts to help. Our leaders put aside politics and embraced people.

We took that “love thy neighbor” thing seriously.

And now, it’s 2007.

One hundred years have passed since President Roosevelt put pen to paper and signed our birth certificate.

For the rest of this year, Okies of every stripe, creed and faith will pause and look back at the past. There, they will find our successes, our failures, our accomplishments and our mistakes.

And there, they will also find the underlying core, the foundation of what makes this wind-blown, just-wait-the-weather-will-change state: Its people.

Each and every one us, from the poorest of the poor to the millionaires in Nichols Hill, have discovered their Okie DNA — a gene that, no matter what, simply keeps trying.

I’m not sure how in evolved.

And I certainly don’t know where it came from.

But I do know that we Okies are unique.

And, just like Ma Joad said, we are “the people.”

Comments

Anonymous said…
Thanks, Scott.

Peace be with you.

+ OD

Popular posts from this blog

Ex-pastor suing Moore's First Baptist Church

MOORE — A former official with Moore’s First Baptist Church is suing the church for his termination, and for “spreading false rumors about his mental health throughout the community,” court documents show. Jimmie D. Lady, the church’s associate pastor, filed the suit in Cleveland County District Court last week seeking $10,000 in actual damages and $10,000 in punitive damages for “severe emotional distress and mental anguish as a result of statements made about him when his job was terminated.” Lady’s attorney, Andrew Hicks of Houston, claimed church officials terminated Lady for being bi-polar, then spread rumors about Lady in the community. “Although a man of God, Dr. Lady cannot ignore the dramatic, adverse effects these untrue and unfair accusations have had on him and his family,” Hicks said. “First Baptist Moore’s efforts to tarnish Dr. Lady’s reputation have threatened his family’s livelihood. Through this suit, we hope to restore Dr. Lady’s good name.” Church officials denied...

Pink Toes

Zachary has pink toes. Thursday, that horrific, difficult, awful day, is over. And here, in the stillness of my home, the quiet is my benediction. My youngest son – the smallest, most fragile of a large, blended family – has stood at the edge of oblivion and returned. The weeks building to this day brought tension, anxiety, stress and fear. Overwhelmed by nature of Zachary’s needs, we, his parents, had no real plan, no other process in place. We simply turned our faces toward the storm and prayed. For the third time in our lives, Karen and I made the long, long walk down the yellowish-tan colored hallway to the operating theater. This time, Karen went in with Zach as they put him under. She walked out the doors sobbing. We returned to the third floor of Children’s Hospital and started out long vigil. The clock seemed to move backward. Once again, we huddled inside the waiting room with friends and family and made mindless conversation. We talked about politics and God and life. ...

The more things change, the more they stay the same

So I’m standing in a large darkened gym, watching a bunch of middle school kids fake like they are dancing — and for the record they’re not very good. I’m here, because in a moment of weakness, I told my school teacher-wife I’d help chaperone. The music is loud. Between 40 and 50 kids line the walls — boys on one side, girls on the other. The dance floor is empty. I’ve been here before. About 30 years ago. Over to the left, there’s the arrogant little twit who is sure he’s the perfect specimen of masculinity. He thinks he’s immortal and he honestly believes that every girl here is dying to hook-up with him. He struts around like a rooster, high-fives his buds, and practices that same look Rod Steward made famous in 1975. Rod’s version was way better. Thirty years ago this kid’s name was Jimmy; he started on the eighth grade football team and his Dad bought him a real motorcycle. He was just sure he had qualified as the Alpha Male of the eighth grade. Superjock is talking to the standar...