Category Archives: RedDirt

Where will I get an Egg McMuffin?

  Let’s assume we actually rocket to Mars. Let’s also assume there is about of hundred of us who came along on this six-month long voyage.  We also could easily assume dozens of us could be stuck in the middle seat getting there.  Then about half way to Mars they could run out of peanutsContinue reading “Where will I get an Egg McMuffin?”

Wearing ‘Go to meetin’ clothes.

Okie fashion plate. It took my dad working two jobs in order to outfit my mom with her mostly church fashions. As mentioned my parents lived in a ‘third-world’ community in red dirt Oklahoma before immigrating to California. No electricity, no running water, and no indoor plumbing. All of this was missing before moving toContinue reading “Wearing ‘Go to meetin’ clothes.”

Golf balls and rainbows.

The bluest skies ever with the whitest cotton puff clouds along with an occasional rainbow is what we moved to in 1972. And certainly, away from the smoky gray L A basin. So, we winged away to what some travelers call paradise. Honolulu is where we flew away to. Far away about 2500 miles fromContinue reading “Golf balls and rainbows.”

Grapes of Wrath? Not here.

Before the sun peaked over the horizon, Carl would be up and crossing the road with two 2-gallon buckets. He was headed for the school house across the county road where he filled each bucket with fresh well water from the hand pump. Then carry Ing both buckets full he slowly started back to hisContinue reading “Grapes of Wrath? Not here.”

If Judy Bloom wrote for pre-teen boys.

A close shave. I grew up in Southern California with clueless Okie parents. It was the dust bowl survivors meet Ozzie and Harriette. Misfits all of us. We had no social skills much less me remembering to not burp when in the cafeteria at lunch. I would have to admit myself an early teen boyContinue reading “If Judy Bloom wrote for pre-teen boys.”

This is where he was buried?

Under an oak tree. We were passing through Wilson, Oklahoma 1964. On our way to my third year of college. We stopped in to see my dad’s mother, my grand mother who we just called Granny. She was Omie Ayers to her neighbors in Wilson. My dad and I decided to stay a few daysContinue reading “This is where he was buried?”

Leaving the parched farm for fertile ground.

In search of the promise. It was not an easy decision. There were those who wished they would stay. But seven souls pushed off from the motherland in search of the promise land. It was on this date in 1941 and the voyagers were determined to find a new life elsewhere. Life was a mightyContinue reading “Leaving the parched farm for fertile ground.”

A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.

Okie Poetry This sure am not Hollywood Nineteen forty-one was the year Carl, Sr. and his bashful bride Left the parched and dry farm. They arrived in the coast to the west with two Toddlers in tow. Carl, Jr. and Peggy Sue. The four of them fresh off The Route some called 66. One man’sContinue reading “A poem from the Red Dirt Plaines.”