Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

near miss & a new friend

Yesterday midmorning I was driving north on Harrah road, toward the park for a run. I was in the right hand lane, slowing gradually nearer the school zone, far away from all other cars. Just as I passed the gas station on the west side of the road, a gray pickup with a camper shell exploded out of the intersection and raced right up alongside my car, definitely aimed for it. I hit my brakes and fishtailed just a little bit, and very much against my nature I also laid the palm of my hand on the horn, simultaneously. It was all instinct, not anger, though within seconds of narrowly avoiding a crash all that adrenaline did turn to anger. The pickup swerved just a breath away from hitting me, and the driver blended slowly into the right hand lane, just in front of me.

My hands were ten and two and shaking. I took several deep breaths and continued driving, even more slowly now, and eased a greater than necessary distance from the gray truck in front of me. I was nearing the park to stop for a run and saw that he, too, was headed there. He used his blinker, drove slowly, yielding to pedestrians the entire time, and parked in the shade.

I briefly considered driving somewhere else to run, I am so averse to confrontation. But I talked myself into staying because I had done nothing wrong. I just felt weird and conspicuous for having honked. I also didn’t know if the other driver felt he had done anything to warrant being honked at, and maybe he would think I almost hit him, you know, and try to fist fight me and I don’t know how to fight, not even in a video game.

My inner life in complicated.

Anyway I stayed.

I also pulled into the parking lot slowly, also yielded to pedestrians, and parked as far from his truck as I could. I did my weird little warm up, started my podcast about an unsolved murder, and started jogging. I was plenty nervous, and I don’t know exactly why. I just hate conflict so much.

The park has a smallish oval loop sidewalk for walking and jogging. I was going counterclockwise and the other driver was walking clockwise. We passed each other head on a few times before we both looked up and acknowledged each other. I pressed a thin smile at him and raised a hand for a low commitment wave, and he nodded softly and also smiled, but he looked sad. He was elderly but not frail, clean cut, polite, focused, and walking alone.

Around mile six I paused at my car for a drink of water, and I saw his truck pull up behind me, perpendicular to my bumper. I paused my stupid murder story and waited as he reluctantly put his truck in park and stepped out into the now blazing sun.

I took a deep breath and assured myself everything was fine. His posture was steady and gentlemanly. Polite. Cautious. He removed his ball cap and opened both hands and said, “I nearly hit you there, I pulled out and scared you, and I am so sorry.” His voice broke my stupid heart. Any defensiveness still in my body dissolved into either shame for honking at him or compassion or maybe amazement at his quiet nobility.

“No I am sorry, I never honk, I am so sorry I honked at you!” My chin started trembling. I was sweaty from running but also cold.

He shook his head and cut me off (haha) saying, “No, I didn’t mean to, but I did almost hit you.” He spoke more firmly this time. He went on to explain that the woman driving behind him had been speeding in that school zone, and she scared him. He felt she was about to slam into him from behind when he saw the opportunity or necessity to race out of the intersection, but all of it was so jarring, so sudden.

I tried a second time to apologize, and I extended both of my hands, not metaphorically. We shook hands normally at first then held hands, and I started weeping a tiny bit behind my scratched up cheap sunglasses. Had I not been sweaty I might have forced a totally inappropriate and unnecessary hug on this stranger (bad hugs are my hobby). It turns out, the verbal exchange was infinitely sweeter.

He said several more times and in a few different ways that he was sorry, and I said I was sorry. I thanked him for coming over to talk to me, told him I had been worried about it (the murder story barely kept my mind occupied), and told him his generosity made me feel so much better. I told him I was so glad that woman didn’t hit him. We agreed we all got lucky and wished each other a good rest of the day then shook hands again (I resisted the urge to invite him for Thanksgiving, because are we friends now?).

As he left the parking lot I started my murder story again, continued my run, and exploded into confusing tears. And the crying was only partially because I am in pre-ovulation. The tenderness and nobility he showed by approaching me and starting that awkward conversation was just so stunning. What an example he sets by this.

Since presumably we live at least somewhat near each other in a fairly cozy community, it is likely we will see each other again. I know now that if we do, it will be comfortable. But even if not, he made an impression on me and reminded me it’s ok to make the effort to keep neighborly bonds intact. We don’t have to go through the days ignoring strangers and neighbors, pretending we are islands or neglecting the effect we have on each other. He did not hit me. He was neither rude nor reckless. No harm was done aside from the momentary panic. He had no obligation whatsoever to ever mention it, but he did.

I swear my intention of honking my car horn was strictly to alert the oncoming vehicle to my presence there, not to express anger. But since I felt the anger immediately afterwards, all of it made me so nauseous. His boldness to resolve the conflict not only allowed me to let it go; it also inspired me to be bolder with neighborliness and more humble about my mistakes.

I am a nervous hugger, too, so there’s that problem. All of this also reminded me sometimes excessive handshakes are enough.

THE END.

BW, part 1: if looks could kill he would be an uzi

(Part One of Three, continuing with The People Who Loved Him Into Being and Paradigm Shifts & Looking Forward)

Brandy Loyd Wreath, 46 years old, Choctaw, OK:

Handsome behind the wheel on a country drive…xoxo

Born and bred Oklahoman, youngest son in the blended family of a Pastor-Police Chief and Juvenile Officer, also church preacher and organist, descendant of Land Run farmer and ranchers, small town entrepreneurs, church founders and conservative local politicians and campaign workers, Brandy is a fascinating and ever evolving portrait of both deeply rooted heritage and modern cowboy self determination. It’s a rare and beautiful, very Oklahoman combination of qualities. He loves fiercely, works himself to the bone, and never stops dreaming for the future. Please enjoy a distilled version of our long and meandering conversation!

What kind of potato chip would you be? “Cool Ranch Doritos, because, “I am cool and live on a ranch.”

Does 46 years old feel anything like how you thought it would? “Sometimes, but no, it’s much better. I thought it would be boring and we would eat at Applebee’s every day at four. While I have nothing against a 4 pm dinnertime, life is not boring.”

What are your love languages? “Things and gifts, as much as I hate to admit it, especially toys. Also food and a specific love language not fit for public sharing.” (The not-fit for-public-sharing asterisk occurred several times in our Q&A.) Brandy also appreciates words of appreciation, more than he likes to admit. He just likes to know his efforts are not in vain, and I don’t blame him. It is in his nature to want to make a difference.

In 46 years you have already witnessed a stunning array of history being made in real time (as he sat for this interview in our living room, every headline was about Russia invading Ukraine.) What comes to mind, what made deep impressions on you? He quickly rattled off memories about the Capitol riots last year, the space shuttle Challenger explosion (one of his grade school teachers had been named as an alternate to Christa McAuliffe), Desert Storm, the Murrah Building bombing (this was particularly pivotal in his life, as both of his parents served as first responders and continued serving for weeks after April 19, 1995), September 11, and more. He said solemnly, “All these bad things kind of stick out as chapter markers, they say our innocence has changed.” Then he added, “But the Berlin Wall coming down, The European Union, those were good.” I love to watch his countenance shift as he carefully guides his own perspective.

Brandy breezed through his public school education in Moore, Oklahoma, where he enjoyed myriad sports as well as band instruction in junior high. By high school he chose to pursue more business and professional classes instead of music, but he continued playing trumpet for church and still today has an easy time picking through new songs on our piano. He just has an ear for melody. He can actually play all the brass instruments, plus drums, but he does regret not taking his mom’s offer to learn piano more seriously, as well as his grandpa’s offer to learn guitar. When he remembers them both, his voice drips with affection.

Brandy’s present career is in government with the utilities industry. He serves as Director of Public Utilities at the Oklahoma Corporation Commission, but he provides more support to the agency and the people there than his title can possibly convey (those are my words, not his). He cares deeply about the agency and industry as an interconnected organism, and he has a talent for developing talent. This and more shine through in his long-cultivated professional relationships as well as in his team’s results year after year, crisis after crisis (again, my words, not his).

Does your career reflect what you thought you would be doing at this point in life? Is this what you wanted to be when you grew up? He laughed, “Not at all. Not in any way, shape or form.” As a little boy, Brandy wanted to be a race car driver and a banker. He got to be a banker already, which he said was horrible. So far he has not been a race car driver… legally.

This Commish job is nothing like what little red headed Brandy from Moore, OK, dreamed of doing. And yet here he is, excelling and building his division in ways that only surprise people who don’t know him. His knack for managing people as full spectrum human beings, not just resumes, makes him effective, not to mention his deep concern for fairness and transparency. (These are my words again. He will groan when he sees this.)

How did your education prepare you for what you do now? “My education? I don’t really think it did. I think that what prepared me for what I do was the way I was raised.” He spoke so gently of his upbringing, it conjured in my mind dozens of little boy photos and stories I have heard so many times over the years.

He became animated, almost defensive, definitely proud: “Being born into service and politics and respecting government. You know, I wasn’t raised in a house that complained about government all the time. I was raised in a house that appreciated the sacrifice. I was raised in a house that acknowledged people were doing the same for less money, or for no appreciation. I was raised in a house that, someone ran for public office and I saw what people did, even back then, how they were treated just for trying to serve. I was raised understanding that people are just really ungrateful, but that someone’s got to do it. So I think that it’s helped me in my role, to be able to endure that. Because I was raised with people treating government that way. Even 30, 40 years ago, people treated government this way. It may not have been on social media, but people said it everywhere you went. I remember hearing comments when Dad was Mayor. As a little kid. I remember comments at coffee shops.” 

Brandy illustrated his Dad’s triple-threat career of being Councilman and Mayor of Moore, running an auto body shop in Moore, and also maintaining law enforcement hours as Chief of Police in Hallpark, all with a bonus side of helping to found a church. Brandy’s admiration for Harvey is always palpable. But he describes it all as service. “It angered me as a kid, long before I was in government. I know that gave me an appreciation that we’re there for more than money.”

Brandy also believes that government work is a privilege. “It may not get you rich, but it takes a calling.” He likes to include in the concept of public heroes those people who “sacrifice their amazing skill sets to try to make the world better.” He selects his employees based on a willingness to make meaningful contributions, rather than people obviously seeking an ego-boosting job or immense wealth. He seeks after people seeking to make a difference. He offered this about his management experience over the years: “I’ve had hundreds of employees (with a) background (not) great for this job. I think the way I was raised made me appreciate (this job) more.”

To be clear, his college education did weigh heavily in math, science, business, and ethics; and his years in banking gave him experience and licensure in the stock market. He certainly acknowledges that practical foundation. But what drives him and keeps his momentum strong is how his values were formed, by his upbringing.

I asked him what might be next in his career. His answer was so honest, so calming and satisfying, that it made me hope everyone can find a path in life where they can work so steadily, and with such satisfaction: “I honestly don’t want to do anything different; I just want to do this better. I like what I do. I want to appreciate it more. I want to find ways to get more people to appreciate it. That’s when I will feel successful. When there aren’t people complaining about things they should be saying thank you for. You know, that would be a great day. So there’s still plenty to do now before I worry about what’s next frankly. ”

I had already planned to ask him about how he might advice young adults just starting their careers, or high school and college students planning a brand new path. His answers about his own path were deeper than I expected. He provided more than a scholastic guidance counselor might, and I was equally delighted when I finally asked: What advice would you give to high school or college students, or to any young adult planning their career path? He broke down a bit, seemingly lost again in some nostalgia. “Take more time learning from the people that are around you. The classroom is great. I would not detract from the great teachers or professors I had. I mean they were incredible, and they taught me a lot. But the real education I got was from the people right there, all day, every day. The amazing things that I saw my parents doing and involved in that I took for granted as a kid. Maybe I was lucky.”

He gathered his emotions and continued, “Find people in your life. See the amazing people around you. Start having some wonder about the people who are right there. Look to those people and learn from them. College is great, but that is not what’s gonna make you different.”

Describe your ideal day off in winter: “Comfy clothes, whatever food I want on tap, TV, a cuddle, pet my dog. It’s a little gray outside instead of fake sunshine that tricks my mind into wanting to do something productive or be out and about.” We talked about how he wants nothing to be broken or in need of repair or construction, how he wants the office to leave him alone, and how he hopes nobody needs him for that day. His body relaxed into the leather couch as he affirmed these requirements.

Describe your ideal day off in summer: “Sunshine, swimming pool, bikini (he quickly clarified that the bikini is for me, not him), a steak, and then air conditioning to come inside to at night. And again work not needing me, no one else needing me, also definitely nothing broken.”

What recharges you, what restores you to feeling like yourself when you are depleted? “Easy answer? Laughter. True recharge is just to enjoy, be happy.”

For all his math-mindedness, Brandy has one of the richest artistic streaks I have ever seen, and he creates and solves problems prolifically, with bendiness and inventiveness. I asked him to distinguish between art and creativity: “Creativity to me is something that just feels good to do. Like I feel I’m creative, but to me art is something other people can enjoy, which does not feel like my bag,” he laughed that off. He asserted that art “is done for other people to enjoy,” whether it’s music, the spoken word, paintings. “That’s how I see it anyway.”

I asked him about favorite styles of art, and his answer was quick: “Probably most powerful is music.” He comes by this honestly. His mom, Judy Wreath, was a talented musician who raised him on all things piano and organ, Elvis and Beethoven, and she encouraged him to practice his own music, in church and beyond. “But I love almost all of it. Can’t think of any art I don’t enjoy.” His favorite music? “It’s impossible. I love all music. Just depends on the mood. Classical, country, rock, rap. Honestly there are days that it’s all the favorite, depending on the mood, the activity.”

What are some of your favorite personal creative projects? He quickly nominated the newly constructed Batmobile as his favorite. “It’s not traditional but a lot of heart and art got put into it.” He also loves his simple welded green Dino, something he had always wanted but couldn’t afford from Sinclair, and he is still planning to add more to it. He mentioned the colorful skull mural on our big barn. Brandy also greatly enjoyed designing and building all of our wooden easels for Outreach painting nights. He said that project was maybe more fun than the painting event itself. “Doing things to prepare for fun ends up being a big part of the fun.” Probably still in its infancy of usefulness is the yurt, another favored Pandemic build.  One day we added huge lettering to the canvas roof, words like “healing” and “you are loved.” They are big enough that maybe Mediflight helicopters flying over could see them. Knowing the words are there for strangers is a precious feeling.  

Which was your favorite Star Trek Series? (We have over the past few years worked our way through each of the spinoffs in storyline order, as opposed to production order.)  He said, “Probably Enterprise, because it was innocent, and while they had technology, they weren’t fully dependent on it yet. They had to be problem solvers. And I really liked the captain, Archer. Kinda cowboy, kinda just get it done attitude. Not a womanizer like Kirk, not pretentious like Picard, he just wanted to get things done. He took care of his people.”

Ok but why do you always root for the villain in a movie or television show? His answer was shockingly thorough and worthy of an entire college class on either obvious psychology or anarchy; it’s often hard for me to know the difference. He listed as his irrefutable criteria for favoring the Bad Guy, four common traits of the best characters: 1) Villains tend to live more genuinely, being unapologetic about what they want. 2) Villains do not behave in polite, inefficient ways. 3) Villains usually dress cooler, specifically wearing lots more black. And, 4) Villains have better cars.

My husband went on to provide a litany of supporting stories as evidence. “Skeletor was always laughing and having fun, and I mean Jedis were wearing bathrobes, so…” His shrug and unblinking expression dared me to pull apart his answer. I chose to let it sit but circled back to it later, when we discussed The Walking Dead. We also circled back to cars.

What would you think if someone saw you as the villain in a story? He shrugged again and smirked, “Oh well! I must be being very efficient!” We both laughed, him confidently and me a bit nervously. I shuffled my papers before moving on.

“The Law of Attraction’s Not Real, Babe.
Mitt Romney Wanted to be President Real Bad.”
XOXOXOXO
~Brandy Wreath, innocent dreamer
and shameless pragmatist

Check back throughout the coming days for parts 2 and 3.

free range friday

Our free range experiment is going well overall. Not a single chicken has been hawk-caught or otherwise injured during their daytime freedom romps, and Klaus is acclimating well to his newly crowded playground. In fact, he loves the two flocks being out, and when he isn’t protecting them he seems to be boasting his superior running and fetching skills.

We wondered whether any of the birds would know exactly how and when to retreat to the safety of the coop at bedtime, but our concerns were soon alleviated. Despite having only ever lived in either incubators or grow troughs or enclosed coops, every hen and every rooster (around thirty, total) has scooted peacefully to their correct shelters every evening, just before sunset. Knock on wood, we have done zero chicken chasing in the dark. Have you ever chased loose birds with flashlights, with your spouse, wearing pajamas, very tired, avoiding stickers, trying not to get in a fight and also getting sweaty before bed, but then definitely getting in a stupid fight but the chickens still don’t appreciate your efforts? Fun stuff. We are so thankful that has not been the case this year.

Our lone gander, Johnny Cash, is sometimes the wild card. He still rejects our offer of pond life, choosing instead to keep company with, and loosely referee, his adopted family. Occasionally at bedtime he is alone, still nested comfortably in the lawn. He honestly appears to be watching the sunset, though, and as we approach, he always waddles sweetly to bed. We say goodnight and latch the door behind him.

As I write this from the upper deck, the sun is basting me aggressively in my own sweat. Klaus is sitting on the top step of the pool ladder, cooling his hot feet and belly while Handsome sweeps the chlorinated water. To my left, some poultry chaos is brewing in the fire pit. One rooster and two hens have taken up residence in a small, empty cardboard box and are attempting a late afternoon ménage-a-trois. It is a novel setting, I will give them that. But they are making too much noise now, and BW has left the pool and walked over to evict them.

Now someone else is laying an egg in the shade garden, a particularly vocal event, and all the disruption is bouncing from one small group to another, layer upon layer of growing excitement. Exult! Celebration! Announcement! This lasts for several minutes and is so loud we cannot have a conversation. But we love it.

Now the south yard is mostly quiet. We gradually hear a few long, exaggerated moans plus a few stray, one-syllable clucks in the distance. Just here and there. Someone is hot and sleepy, and someone else has found a wealth of insects or worms and is calling everyone to the feast.

my newly arranged stone walkway is a joke to them

Free range ducks means that I can move their little plastic wading pool around the various gardens as often as I want, emptying it easily at the base of any thirsty shrub or in any flower bed as needed. I am not pouring the duck water on food, just to make sure I use compost that is as well rotted as possible; but this little nutrient-rich deep watering feels like a good choice for ornamentals. And the ducks love having fresh, shaded water every single day. It is so fun to watch them discover it anew every day. Splish-splash. Klaus stands and watches them too, smiling. Salivating?

Half an hour later, the same feathered trio attempted another cardboard box rendezvous, and this time Klaus took charge. He marched up to the edge of the fire pit and used his considerable snoot to tip over the box, emptying the lovers onto the smooth rock surround. More chaos. Many loud objections. A satisfied Shepp.

A few people have asked me recently whether the chickens do much damage to my gardens. The answer is yes, they certainly do some leaf shredding and crater digging for dust baths, but not enough to bother me. I harvest way more food than they ever eat. And they provide far more help to the gardens than harm. So the balance is in check for now. They eat grasshoppers and who knows what else. They uproot crabgrass for me and scratch the earth where it is impacted, leaving scant amounts of diggable fertilizer as they go. Symbiosis.

And gosh dang they are so fun and beautiful! I might think long and hard about exposing my more delicate early spring gardens to their treachery, but that decision is for next March. For now, this well established Eden in late summer can comfortably host these happy flocks.

they are not shy lol

The only new problem worth solving seems to be the sudden and conspicuous absence of fresh eggs. We get only three or four per day lately, compared to twenty or twenty-five normally, and most of the ones we do bring to the house have been found in random, temporary nests around the farm. Handsome tends to find a clutch near the base of the pool pump, which is enclosed by wooden walls. Today I found eggs inside a potted plant.

Two roosters are that empty box now. They are obsessed!

The End.

we can get through anything, together: john’s pandemic story

Until March, 2021, John Carpenter and I had enjoyed literally a passing acquaintance. He and I often log miles at the same park in Choctaw and have a few local friends in common, so we have exchanged plenty of runners’ waves over the past few years. It took pandemic for us to finally stop and introduce ourselves (from a distance). Vaccines had barely started in Oklahoma, and things were still tense socially from, well, from everything. I asked whether he would be interested in participating in this interview project. He quickly agreed, laughing and shrugging that people might not like what he has to say. I was instantly hooked.

John Carpenter is a true child of the sixties and doesn’t mind swimming against the current of popular opinion. But he hardly strikes me as being rebellious for rebelliousness’ sake; he is thoughtful and keeps a mellow, almost Buddhist force field around himself, so that even as he is acknowledging conflict or telling a true and terrible story from history, he emits calm. He knows how to flow with changing times, and that quality seems to have helped him thrive during last year’s ongoing tumult. This might be a product of his yoga training, or it could just be from a full, well lived lifetime of ups and downs. He is a vigilant observer of events and human nature, so talking to him about his pandemic experience flowered into a fascinating look backwards into the preceding decades, the life and history that made him who he is, someone who took a global pandemic pretty much in stride and stayed healthy and happy, though still opinionated, the entire time. The more I learned, the more questions I had and the harder it was for me to focus on just this project. Enjoy!

John Carpenter, avid reader, yogi, and local activist

In late 2019 John had seen news reports about a new contagious virus, but it was not yet in the United States. Having seen swine flu and other similar outbreaks in years past, he was not too worried. In early March, 2020, he and his wife of 41 years, Jo, were in Tulsa, Oklahoma, at a book reading by author Luc Sante. Afterwards they shared dinner at a Mexican restaurant. That evening out was their last normal-feeling event for a long time. Then, on March 12, 2020, when a basketball player tested positive for the novel corona virus and emptied the infamous Thunder basketball game on live television, John knew things were serious.

When shutdowns happened, John and Jo had no trouble staying well supplied at home. As he put it, they had “been through too many ice storms in which people panic shopped,” and happily, they never lacked for toilet paper. Well into retirement, their livelihood was unaffected by shutdowns, but John was accustomed to teaching a regular spin class and many yoga classes at a local gym and the YMCA, all of which came to an abrupt halt when the virus hit Oklahoma.

The Carpenters’ first masks were basic medical masks which he purchased at Crest Foods in Midwest City. He later found more online and had no complaints wearing them for the duration of the pandemic.

Daily life changed in noticeable but manageable ways during pandemic. No longer free to teach fitness classes at the gym or YMCA, John transitioned to posting yoga videos on YouTube for his friends and classes. He also kept up his boxing practice by replacing in-person classes with home workouts on a punching bag hung from a tree, plus exercising with free weights. He ran at the park a little more often and found more time than ever for reading books. These were good changes, he felt, as was spending more time with his wife. They developed a ritual of taking long walks together in beautiful outdoor spaces like local parks, Scissortail, in Oklahoma City, or a spot in Edmond they both love.

Entertainment at home included some movies and watching old episodes of The Office. The Carpenters did not seem to need new hobbies, just a shift and refocus of what they already enjoyed. He said that during shutdown, he realized he had been teaching too many classes and decided to cut back greatly once things returned to normal. He has sorely missed attending live music as well as the annual Metropolitan Library System book sale, which he had previously not missed in forty years!

John never contracted the virus, and today he feels great, both physically and mentally. He added that he believes wearing a mask all year prevented him from even catching a cold. Unfortunately, his brother did contract covid-19 and was seriously ill for some time. He lost a significant amount of weight and was nearly hospitalized. Thankfully, after a few weeks of fighting it, he recovered well.

Unsurprisingly, John had a neighborly view of “essential workers” and said he made a point to thank people more often. He exuded lots of warmth for people whose, “jobs that usually our society does not give a lot of credit to but kept us going during the pandemic.” His mother was an educator, and as we spoke his love and respect for teachers shone through.

January 6, 2021, held double importance for John. He was in a parking lot in Seminole, Oklahoma, waiting to receive his first dose of the newly approved covid-19 vaccine, when his phone came alive with news alerts. The nation’s Capitol was under siege, and widespread violence was threatening to explode. The Insurrection, as people came to call it, happened on the very day that life could have been turning a positive corner. Though angered by it all, John took that day in stride, too.

Knowing John is generally outspoken about politics and social issues, I was curious to hear his opinions about how the pandemic was handled both by government leaders and fellow citizens. (John himself ran for local office a few years ago on a shoestring, grassroots campaign, and those stories alone were fascinating and distracting to me, ha!) He said without blanching that our governor should have enacted a mask mandate and that as a state we probably opened back up too soon. “I was happy to see Choctaw enact a mask mandate,” he shared, but, “was disappointed at the pushback from a lot of citizens who felt like they were losing their rights by having to wear a mask. I am sure part of it was political, but the refusal to wear a mask still surprised me and it continues to this day! The YMCA has a policy where you have to wear a mask except while exercising. My opinion, you need to be wearing a mask the whole time you are indoors, exercising or not. I have taught all my classes wearing a mask, if inside and I have had no issues.” (This part of our conversation happened early springtime, when masks were still required most places.)

Beyond politicians, we discussed how society at large could have handled things better. His answer was simple: He wished we had better grasped the dangers. “I think just because it impacts mostly older people, a lot of younger people (were) not taking it too seriously. People seemed to think they (were) giving up their rights by having to wear a mask or get a vaccine. They (did) not realize we are all in this together.”

We reflected on lessons available from past crises and global pandemics, especially World War II and the 1918 Spanish flu. He said about those chapters in history, “We got through it,” then elaborated on how society then had a sense of communal trust. People trusted science, and they trusted that hard times would not last forever. We also talked about the Vietnam War era and what common ground we share with that generation, today. We share racial tension, social unrest as we make fundamental changes, and a deep political divide because of it all.  

John regards social media as a mixed blessing. While he admits to sometimes venting his frustrations online and does not shy away from a lively debate on Facebook, he sees that generally the internet tends to provide a breeding ground for anger and conspiracy. John has a degree in sociology and is happy to discuss complicated things openly, so I could have listened to his ideas about group behavior for a hours. He also has dozens of great stories to tell about the genesis of our own town of Choctaw, OK, and the rapid evolution of nearby Midwest City, home of Tinker Air Force Base.

How truly captivating to think of life and local history being shaped over the decades not just by money, industry, and generational growth, but also by diverse and powerful human personalities. Specific people, just living their lives. Individual persons and groups of people can do so much to hurt or help a community, and John’s collection of stories illustrate that beautifully.

Certainly, music and popular culture have significant roles to play, he explained. In his own coming of age, protest music was common on the radio, and as a teenager John supplied himself with albums by Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Who, Grateful Dead, and more. He acknowledges they must have had a deep impact on his thinking as a young man. And reading magazines like The Rolling Stone and The New Yorker expanded his world view in a time before the internet. He learned to think differently, to see other groups of people in new, maybe unconventionally (for the time) loving ways, and to think for himself. He recalls watching television news with his Dad, who, despite being from a very different place and time, was apt to explain and thoroughly discuss current events with his son. The Nixon-Kennedy debates in 1960 made an impression on John’s social and political views, as did James Meredith’s enrollment in the University of Mississippi in 1963, to which the National Guard was called. John also followed the Kennedy family closely and was himself a Senate page at our State Capitol in 1966. All of this laid the foundation for how lovingly and seriously John would process the Black Lives Matter movement this past year.

John was bold to answer my questions about how he vets information in an age when we have unlimited access to such a wide variety of it. These days, he is choosy about his news sources, favoring The Atlantic, Harper’s BAZAAR, New York Times, Washington Post, NPR radio, and still The Rolling Stone. His criteria lean on longevity of the publication and how well researched the writers are. John shared that he once met a longtime columnist from The Rolling Stone and took the chance to thank that man for contributing to his thought shaping over the years. I find that beautiful. Locally, John likes KTOK radio, The Gazette and, now that it has changed hands, The Daily Oklahoman. Does The Lost Ogle count as news? He likes that website, too, ha.

Our most recent conversation was early this June, long after vaccine rollout was underway and mask mandates ended here in Choctaw. As things inch toward normalcy, John shared that he and Jo had not been in a restaurant since that night out in Tulsa the previous March. The first restaurant they enjoyed post pandemic was Zoe’s in Edmond, where they dined outside. The second time they ate out was at Picasso’s in the Paseo district. They are still eagerly awaiting their first live music event.

Going forward, how is he changed, besides planning to teach far fewer classes away from home?
“I think I will appreciate everything in life a lot more from here on out. I will try to get the most out of each day. I also know when I go to my next concert, whenever it is, it will be an emotional moment.”

I love what John had to say about the gifts of pandemic: “I believe it showed me I could adapt to most situations. I think being older and hopefully wiser kept me from ever really feeling too depressed or panicky about the situation. I trusted the scientists and I am confident I was on the right side.”

Hearing about both John’s nearly unflappable year in pandemic as well as his coming of age in such an exceptional time in history sparked all kinds of thinking for me. It left me struck by how crucial it is that we help our young people frame things well. This moment in our communal history is shaping our children and teenagers just like the sixties shaped John. How our kids emerge from this pandemic will have everything to do with how they navigate future inevitable crises. It’s common sense of course, and we all know these things; but John’s generous sharing of his life experiences drove it all home for me.

May we all handle with great care our future thought leaders and politicians. May we deeply nurture each other and continue the hard, thorough conversations so that we see beyond where we are, like John did. None of this has to be wasted.

Thank you for sharing so much of your inner world with us, John! Choctaw is lucky to have you.

“Mention me when they ask you what happened.
I am everywhere under your feet.”
~Luc Sante
XOXOXOXO

she chose joy

Some people have an inner mechanism, like a filtering system, that enables them to see the world more joyfully. It is more than being able to focus on the silver linings; it is more like a universal translator that helps them automatically interpret challenges as opportunities and detours as excursions into unknown, and most likely adventurous, territory. I don’t know whether these people are more often born with such a guidance system or whether they develop it over time, but I definitely recognize them when we meet. Kori McKinney Wilson is one of these people. The great covid pandemic of 2020 had nothing on her ability to reclaim a brand new version of order from chaos. Please enjoy her story.

Toward the end of January, 2020, Kori and her family of five joined their extended family for a big cruise vacation. The group numbered fifteen people in total, and it was their first such adventure together. They had lots of fun and were only barely aware of corona virus news updates, thinking at that time it was akin to SARS and not likely to be a problem in the Unites States.

Several weeks later, the news was accelerating. Kori remembers huddling at her seventeen year old daughter’s soccer game, irritated by the cold early spring weather. Noting her mood toward the weather would almost haunt her later, because soon enough she would be yearning for gatherings with friends and strangers, no matter the weather.

Kori is a dental hygienist by trade. On a Thursday afternoon in late March, 2020, as the office was emptying for the weekend, her boss told everyone to expect to shut down for a few weeks, but that they were waiting for more clear direction from the American Dental Association as well as Oklahoma leadership. Just hours later, they received word that the state was strongly encouraging shut downs but that the final decisions were up to each office. Kori’s dental office decided to close for at least two weeks, through April ninth. She remembers the pandemic feeling real at the end of those first two weeks. They were ultimately closed for a full seven weeks.

The first week of lockdown coincided with her kids’ spring break. Luke, Kaley, and Brennan were in the fourth, tenth, and eleventh grades last year, and skipping spring break led to skipping sports and friends and part time work, too. The Wilson family is a tight knit group, though, so under their parents’ leadership everyone managed to sink in and enjoy it all. They were especially thankful that the weather improved, as it allowed for family hikes at the Wichita Mountains and other outings. Kori also started a daily ritual of drinking her coffee outside on the patio, often urging her husband of 23 years to join her, and this was just the beginning of her beautiful intentionality during pandemic.

The Wilsons’ initial shopping trip for lockdown happened during their second week at home, when Kori realized it was all going to last much longer than anyone expected. She is not a saver or collector by nature; she tends to only keep on hand what they will need immediately and doesn’t mind shopping in small, frequent bursts. This new environment required a 180 degree turnaround in strategy to meet her family’s needs. Even then, she was cautious of buying too much of anything at once, worried that other people would be unable to find enough. She settled on about a three week supply of groceries and goods, leaning on an actual written inventory of everything in their pantry and deep freeze. She wrote a specific plan of what they would eat and shopped accordingly. They stuck to this plan for several weeks, exhausting the bottom of the meat supply even to experiment with rabbit meat gifted from a farming friend, and were able to make just small weekly shopping trips to add to their creative non perishable menu.

Happily, Kori’s enthusiastic and comprehensive menu plan was well received. Much to her delight, the kids even approved of ham hocks and split pea soup! Her family of five sat down for a home cooked dinner every single evening for six weeks solid, and they loved it. Additionally, the kids were enlisted to help cook and found themselves on a wonderful learning curve in the kitchen. Over time, their Dad Mike included grilling lessons, too.

Kori described their sudden glut of time at home like the most wonderful kind of culture shock. They were so used to a busy sports schedule and hectic, overlapping social calendar, all of which was fulfilling, but this was a welcome pace. They all not only loved each other; they liked each other. They enjoyed each other’s company and really hunkered down with a sense of affection and adventure.

When it became evident that the kids would have quite a bit of extra time at their disposal for the foreseeable future, Kori seized the chance to amplify their life experiences and supplement their curriculum. She brainstormed a series of home-centered projects that did more than fill the time; they helped her children chase after learning experiences they could never indulge in at school. The list included meal prep, woodworking and painting, gardening, and physical fitness and leadership. They also took time to learn more deeply about social issues, taking cues from so many weighty current events last year and fantastic docu-series available online. She saw the “finality” of her older kids growing up but also the glittering opportunities of being together now.

They tackled woodworking projects which Mom designed. Dad taught them to use power tools safely, they did the building themselves, and they sanded and painted their finished products.

They all learned to cook full family meals, and Brennan especially discovered a new level of appreciation for the planning and effort that feat requires. They posted their weekly menu to Facebook and enjoyed both encouragements along the way as well as an incoming flood of recipe suggestions, things they “just have to try.” Kori is flirting with the idea of printing the recipes they tried into a “Quarantine Meals” family scrapbook for the kids.

They designed a raised garden bed and did all the studying to understand ecosystems, carbon emission, photosynthesis, and more, before growing their own vegetables. They hauled dirt, propagated their own seeds, and tended everything. This project turned out to be one of Kori’s personal favorites, “because everybody was involved in it,” and she expects to continue growing a garden together every year.

To keep everyone physically active in the great vacuum of team sports, Kori enlisted the older two kids to design a five-week fitness regimen for everyone. The whole family joined in all the workouts! “It was good for them,” she said cheerfully. Kori and Mike were pleased to discover that while the kids outdid them in all other activities, they had more stamina with the jump rope than the younger generation, ha!

The more I heard about their ongoing adventures, the more I see how much of a gift this entire year has been for their family. She may have jokingly called it “Jesus Take the Wheel Home School by Kori,” but that implies desperation she just does not seem to possess. The rhythm and momentum she kept was clearly joyful. Indulgent. Life-affirming.

Her husband Mike works for the FAA and had already been keeping remote office hours, so having a full house was a small adjustment for him during work hours. But overall the family thrived. They also had no problem wearing masks on the few occasions they left the house. Kori’s perspective on masks as a dental hygienist means she wore them almost by instinct, even before they were mandated. She did express compassion for people who maybe found masks too uncomfortable to wear outdoors in the heat of Oklahoma summer.

The more Kori and I chatted, the less I was surprised to hear that she didn’t really have a stress snack. It almost sounded like a foreign concept to her when I asked about it! She expressed with total believability that she has “felt lucky and healthy together, content.” No need for stress snacks.

Managing school in the midst of a pandemic was challenging, but Kori’s kids all rose to the occasion, as did the Moore school system where they attend. Brennan and Kaley, then junior and sophomore, found solo, home based academics easier in some ways. They are both naturally good self managers, and the school administration had established a grades freeze that prevented anyone’s average form slipping too far (not that they needed that insurance). The work they did from home was almost optional, but they still did it, allowing Kori to take a more passive approach with supervising them. It all served to condition them both for this school year. Kori was excited to share that Brennan and Kaley have now plunged into concurrent enrollment at the nearby community college and Brennan has earned a two year scholarship. Congratulations!

Luke, in fourth grade when pandemic hit, also benefitted from the insurance of a grades freeze but was more enmeshed in a structured curriculum than his older siblings. The teachers worked hard to quickly produce thick packets for six weeks’ worth of learning at a time. They also coordinated weekly Zoom meetings, both required and optional. It was a lot for a ten year old to manage, but he had all the help he needed at home and has done well every step of the way.

Kori is thankful for how the schools responded to the time crunch, the safety concerns, and the unique challenges the kids faced last year. This year, she is impressed by the investments being made for air filtration, the detailed efforts everyone continues to make to keep kids in pods and at a reasonable physical distance, and more. All three kids are back in the classroom now, they feel safe, and they are happy to be with their friends at least a little bit.

Limited socializing last year affected the entire family. They took quarantining seriously and were judicious about the few times they did choose to see people in small gatherings or outdoors, maybe occasionally regretting a choice based on what they learned after the fact about other people’s exposure, etc. The same dilemmas many of us have faced. The kids missed their friends. It was perhaps hardest on Brennan, who is normally always on the go. Kaley coped with the solitude a little better, slipping “into her element,” at least for the first month. She is an avid reader and is good at setting a variety of goals for herself, so she made good use of the hours and days. Luke, the youngest, was at that perfect age to truly enjoy the whole family being home together. By the end of summer, Kori said, he was ready to see his friends again.

Mike and Kori missed their friends, too, and they simply craved time with a variety of loved ones. They have close couples-friends who had to be extraordinarily careful because of the vulnerable, elderly family members in their care. The Wilsons also have friends with whom they had one get together last May but not since, and that feels especially strange because those people only live ten minutes away. Mike’s best friend lives next door, and their relationship has had to adjust. Kori had reconnected with friends from school and had fun with her best friend, a memorable girls’ day in Midtown OKC, visiting Factory Obscura and more, just before shut downs. Last summer was supposed to be their summer of fun. They all had such “grandiose plans,” as Kori called them, “then the world shut down.”

I noticed a strong sense of steady confidence as Kori described all of these meaningful friendships and the outings they skipped. She never once called it a loss, only described it as a kind of pause. Like she and Mike had perspective from the beginning that the time apart was temporary. I find that absolutely stunning, in the best way. So many of us have marinated in grief ahead of time you know?

The Wilsons’ efforts to stay healthy paid off. They all stayed covid-free until later this March, when their oldest son tested positive for the virus as he was being admitted for knee surgery. His symptoms were minor and allergy like, and thankfully they resolved quickly; but Kori made him quarantine for a few days, in his bedroom away from the family. He couldn’t believe that, ha! When he felt good enough to go out again, he drove himself to get tested. He was virus free again, and yes, his knee surgery was successful.

One of the most fruitful learning adventures they took together might have been the ongoing discussions about politics, social issues, and history. Among other things, Kori pressed her oldest two children to watch RGB and learn more about Thurgood Marshall. They explored complex social and racial issues and generally reinforced an open family dialog about difficult topics. She talked to me about how she and Mike wanted their kids to learn to use their own voices. They “liked to be on the same page, but you can come to your own opinions.” They worked all year, using current events in the news, to teach the kids to have an ever widening world view. “Your experience isn’t everyone’s experience,” they tried to reinforce. It felt like something much better than tolerance; it felt to me like grassroots love for your neighbors, both seen and unseen.

Kori and I spoke on the phone one year and two weeks after the cancelled spring break that started it all. Mike has not returned to the FFA building yet, but Kori has been back at the dentist’s office for several months, and the kids are now back at school. Everyone is healthy and happy, on their way to being fully vaccinated, and living life fully in this chapter.

I asked what new habits and rhythms might carry over into post-pandemic life. There is a family consensus that life is returning to normal, getting busier in good ways, but Kori was happy to share that they are still enjoying movie and game nights. Maybe not as many as during pandemic, but they had gotten a little burned out on those anyway, ha! Still, they are definitely enjoying more than before. They make time for each other now and realize how precious and genuinely fun it is. The kids continue to request family dinners, too, sometimes including Brennan’s new girlfriend. They have all come full circle back to soccer games, part time jobs, and some socializing.

For such a beautiful, life filled year, I felt wistful on Kori’s behalf, noticing that it was mostly over. I asked her, will she miss it? “No…” she answered softly. I could hear the honest, wide eyed shrug in her voice. “I am grateful for the moment, you know? Life changes. That was an opportunity, that’s what made it special. We all walked away with something.” She went on to reinforce the specialness of their year in pandemic without ever sounding overly sentimental, just happy and nourished.

Wow. This stranger on the phone summoned choking tears into my throat.

Her projects and seize the day attitude gave me energy. Her sincerity about accepting sudden blessings gave me peace. Everything is temporary. The hard, the wonderful, the beautiful, the disappointing. And what is true for one family does not take away from what is true for another.

“Our family is in a good state of mind.”
~Kori McKinney Wilson
XOXOXOXO

How beautiful.