July 30

 

"It's time to go," he said, as I watched a smile spread across his face. My heart fluttered and my stomach rolled. I looked into his brown eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded yes. Still nodding yes, I looked at my hands covered in nickel from the slot machines.

 

"Let's wash our hands, " I announced.

With our hands clean we shared a hug, then hand in hand we walked across the casino parking lot to the Little Church of the West.

 

The time 6:20 pm. Inside we heard the organ music play and watched a wedding party of a dozen young people flow out of the church. We stood beside the door not sure of our next move.

A man stepped through the door and turned our direction. "Are you waiting to be married," he asked.

Our heads nodded and finally we replied in unison, "Yes. We are the 6:25 wedding."  

We stepped inside the old wooden church. I glanced at the dark wooden walls and pews. We signed the register and followed a man down the aisle. I imagined my parents walking down this same path thirty seven years earlier. Like us, they had both been married and divorced. They met during the war and four years later mother took the train from Wichita, Kansas to Los Angeles. My father met her at the station and with another couple they drove to Las Vegas and took a daring but happy gamble on a marriage. 

I thought if it worked for them it would work for us. After all, getting married is the easy part.

Then I heard the minister's voice, "Do you, Letty, take Jack to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you part?"

 I do.

He did.

We have done for thirty eight years. 

Oh, my Goodness. This is the first time in thirty eight years that I noticed the Matthew's name is misspelled. I am sorry Matthew. 

We have raised three healthy, happy, and wise children. We couldn't be prouder, nor happier that we took that gamble thirty eight years ago. 

I love you Jack. 

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Thirty on the Thirtieth

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Reflections on a Still Hot Summer Sunday

Our week began on a cool Monday morning with me sitting out front sipping on my hot tea, while Jack and Murphy walked to the park and back. I attempted to relax and watch the grass grow, and nearly succeeded until I saw a weed in my flower garden. Not just any weed, but a nutsedge that grows connecting tubers under the surface of our muddy clay soil.  I sat my hot tea down and walked over and pulled it up, along with its family of young sprouts. By the time I sat down my tea was luke warm and it was time for breakfast. 

This has been a month of tomato sharing around the neighborhood. Friends covet these round red juicy fruit and even write about them:  "Holy my gosh! I just ate an end piece of that glorious tomato  from Letty….ORGASMIC! Our capressi tonight will be incredible. Please thank her profusely for us. And I WILL be trying to grow tomatoes next year. There is absolutely no comparison to the crappy ones we get in the store. Thanks so much for sharing. "

Tuesday morning the rocket with Wally Funk onboard took aim at the skies and I hit record, so I could watch and enjoy it throughout the week. Wally is one of my newest heroes, along with Sandra Day O'Connor, Georgia O'Keefe, Margaret Thatcher, Anita Hill, Christa McAuliffe, Maya Angelou, and poet, Mary Oliver. With the exhilaration of teenager, I watched  the video of the New Shepard launch, over and over. Can you imagine the thrill she must have experienced at 82, and in space for the first time.  My body tingled in excitement for her. The same thrill I felt when Christa McAuliffe flew into space, but this time there was joy on earth. 

TV News photo

When I first heard that the rocket was called New Shepard I imagined the shepherds keeping watch over the this new rocket, but naming it after Alan Shepard works for me. The Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo space missions are living history in my mind. 

How is it that we never heard of the women on the Mercury team?

In 1961, Funk was among a group of female pilots testing whether women were fit for space travel. They became known as the Mercury 13, and they passed many of the same tests as the men. 

"I had needles stuck on every part of my body. Tubes running up my bottom. So I went along with it. It didn't bother me," Funk told Holsenbeck. "And then they said, 'We want you to come with a swimsuit; you're going to go into the isolation tank.' Well, I didn't know what that was. The lights come down, they said try not to move. Well, I didn't have a whole lot to think about. I'm 20, I had $10 in my pocket. And then finally they said: 'Wally, you were outstanding. You stayed in 10 hours and 35 minutes. You did the best of the guys that we've had and of the girls.' "

The program was canceled (WHY?)  and Funk was never accepted by NASA. She made clear then that she had not given up on space.

Wally says, I never let anything stop me.

I know that my body and my mind can take anything that any

space outfit wants to give me--high altitude chamber test, which is fine;

centrifuge test, which I know I can do five and six G's. These

things are easy for me.  

Wally Funk in 2017

Story Corp interview with Wally Funk

One evening while devouring information on Wally my mind took its usual route of diversion, and I found myself missing the writings of Molly Ivins and Cokie Roberts. 

Cokie offered me reflection. I cherish her book We Are Our Mother's Daughters. With politics being the driving force in her life and golf in mine, our childhoods couldn't have been more different. We did share one thing in common. Our parents shared news of the day, at the dinner table with us. We, like Cokie, listened intently as our parents recounted the day or the many episodes of the country club. She became and Washington Correspondent/Journalist and I became a Storyteller. 

The stakes they play for in politics are paper and money. The chips they play with are your life. 

Molly Ivins

The quote is sobering, but Molly could say what she thought. Molly made me laugh at the world around us. If you need a laugh right now then please click on this link to a David Letterman interview of Molly Ivins 1992. For reference to the topic Letterman brings up, please note why Anita Hill is on my list of heroes. 

I cleared my head of worries this week by playing several rounds of golf, working with Murphy on his new puppy manner lessons, and finishing the last of the gardening until the temperatures drop out of the nineties.  The heat of summer has finally arrived.

WAIT WAIT 

Jack and I are playing defense with Murphy's antics. 

We are so smart, being football savvy fans, that we used three (de) fences in crisscross order to keep this young puppy out of a garden that has been torn apart this year by flooding, a deep freeze, hail, broken glass, and a digging puppy. Nearly a week went by until he found an opening, holes to China were dug beside each pot. Jack  filled in the holes this morning and we shrugged our shoulders. This, too, shall pass. 

Before I could finish writing this passage, Murphy jumped on my arm and crisscrossed my mind!!!! My arms, with this thin skin, look like they have been in battle with a ferocious cat. The solution can in the form of this rattling can. Thanks to the Walenz family who used this technique on June Bug.  

We have a canned Rattler, our newest defense for 
stopping undesirable behavior. 

Reflections on a Steamy Hot Sunday Afternoon

Oak Tree National's signature tree.

 Oh, my! Welcome to the steamy heat of summer, and yet, I find myself drawn to the outdoors. Some days I wake up and can't wait to get out outside to walk early, pull weeds, play golf, or most often play with Murphy. We were up before 7:00am and outside. I was still in my gown and robe with a cup of hot tea in my hand. It felt comfy. I don't often get to feel mornings like that. 

Sitting down in the morning has never been part of my life. I never saw my parents sitting and drinking coffee, relaxing as many may say. My life
from school to teaching and my years of working and with children at home was never still in the morning.  If I didn't have the energy I needed, I drank my ever faithful sugar caffeine ladened Dr. Pepper. 

Sitting didn't last long this morning, it never does. Murphy and I went for our early morning walk and then it was off to a Sunday morning party (not church or Sunday school) to celebrate The Open, or as Americans' say, "The British Open Golf Championship." Our friends gather; to drink anything from water to wine and mixes in between; share golf stories, and dog stories; eat the finest of English foods; and occasionally watch one of the three televisions showing The Open. Yes, we saw Collin Morikawa make that long birdie putt across the green, and go on to win The Open. 

We ate Scotch Egged Meatballs that tasted spicy. The creamed gravy and green peas mellowed the flavors.  The potato egg casserole with fresh tomatoes was smooth and filling. I believe we each tasted food from every tray, like Salmon and pumpernickel, Salmon on potato cakes, sausage bread, scones, sweet Sherried apple Trifle (very British) and we brought Cranachan (Scottish Oats). Thank you Jennifer and Drew Dugan for hosting us for these charming golf parties. 

LeighAnn Fore and Madison Smith on hole #8

My week started last Monday with golf and ended with golf on Sunday, and filled with fun memories in between. On Monday and Tuesday I helped the Women's Oklahoma Golf Association with the scoring for the Women's State Amateur at The Territory Golf Course in Duncan. Helping gave me time to tour the course and watch the young girls and determined women play. Congratulations, Shaebug Scarberry 2021 State Amateur Champion.Steady Scarberry Wins 

Wednesday we found time to spend with our precocious six-year-old granddaughter, Ruth Ann.  We spent time playing dress up, except she is the only one who could get into my mini-skirt outfit from 1973! It even has matching undershorts.  I don't ever remember being that skinny.  

On Thursday four of us met at Oak Tree National in Edmond to play 18 holes of golf. This golf course, opened in 1976, is tree lined tough, no matter which tee box is used. It had been a men's only club until recently, when women were allowed to join. 

Julia Wood and Letty, friends since the 1980's.
Cheers to all of memories of playing golf and living.
Hole #13 at Oak Tree National, Ouch!

According to the website the course has everything – sand, water, trees, length, thick rough and fiercely contoured greens. Dye enhanced the gently rolling property, adding some bumps and hollows of his own along the fairways. The course meanders through oak forests, across streams and around lakes with water coming into play on 13 holes, including each of the par-3 holes.

Thunder, lighting and rains roared through Saturday afternoon and woke me from a sound nap. Today a light rain rolled in on a thunder train. It's warm and sticky out, but we managed to play with Murphy enough that he is worn out.

Maybe, he managed to play with us enough to wear us out. 

Murphy is into creative artwork this week. He is daily looking for ways to create collages on our floors with soft toy stuffing, shredded toilet paper, and magazines and newspapers strewn over and under furniture. All of our books are now on top shelves, no flowers or decorative arts are allowed on tables, all items are stored above his jumping abilities. 

We start our puppy Canine Academy classes this week. I wonder if Murphy will be as good as Pinkerton in Steven Kellogg's classic stories of his Great Dane? Perhaps next week Murphy will have something to say about his new classes on behavior. 

But Katy said she liked toilet paper art. 

Maybe, tomorrow I will start the morning outside relaxing with a cup of hot tea, and watch the grass grow (or throw a frisbee dozens of  times). 

Reflections on Cool Clear Sunday

Storms flew through last night with no damage to report, thank heavens. 

Talking to a friend the other day, I made the comment, "I'm still mad at myself for not going to the
National Cowboy and Western History Museum to see the Spiro Mounds exhibit when it was there this last winter.  I know I had good excuses, but I really wanted to see it." 

Missing out on events bothers me more now than ever. I may not have another opportunity to see that exhibit. The feelings became rather visceral in me as I pondered how to live the next thirty years of my life. Yes, I'm an optimist and have plans for this one wild and precious life, that poet Mary Oliver so aptly described. She also wrote:

"Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it."

I want to remember LIFE and LIVING, and it would help if I started with yesterday, or what was I thinking about doing before I sat down to write?? This is how and why I began this weekly column: Reflections on a Rainy Summer Sunday

The Trails Golf Course, Norman

Three of us played golf Saturday, and noticed four baby mallards wandering around without mother nearby.  A couple of hundred yards away lay their dead mother mallard  Dead from hitting the power lines, not an errant golf ball.  Her neck was broken and our hearts cried.  When we drove by there an hour later no one had removed her body. So with prayers in our hearts, I walked over, picked her cold body up with a towel, then carried her to a graveyard of tall grasses.  "Bless her gentle soul, dear Lord, and watch after her babies." 

I know this is nature as it is meant to be.  Many times in my childhood I recall my father bringing home a nest of wild baby bunnies  We worked so hard to save them,, but wild bunnies are not meant for children and neighborhoods without fences.  

How sad, I think, what life must be for children and parents living in Afghanistan, and other parts of the warring world.

First bite of the season.

The best news of the week is that our garden burst open with fresh tomatoes. I know it is truly summer when I can eat our very own tomatoes while standing over the sink to make my juicy mess, like eating watermelon. 

I picked the rhubarb and made two pies. Yummy yummy sweet and tart. My first rhubarb pie since I left Kansas. 

The Norman Art Walk always brings delight, even more so when Jack and I are joined by Leah and Bobby. We began the evening at The Depot, where Jack and I were truly impressed with the artwork of Joey Frisillo from Tulsa.

Landscapes by Joey Frisillo, of Tulsa

She remarked about how much she likes our Oklahoma winters, and the friendly atmosphere.  Secretly, that makes me proud when people who have traveled and lived elsewhere make positive comments about living here.

Jack Chapman, The Bone Blossom
Prophecy

Then we discovered in the basement of Scratch, a restaurant with fine food and fresh drinks, a new room called the Speakeasy without the smoke and gangsters. We relaxed awhile with a drink in the cool quiet area. 

Over several thousand steps later we meandered through art walls of various pieces, people enjoying the cool evening outside, food trucks, dogs both large and tiny, delicious German food at Das Boot, Apple Tree Chocolates, and more art.  

WAIT WAIT...WHAT ABOUT ME?

I went to the doctor place this week . I weigh 24.6 pounds. That's like a lot, but then the man showed me a big dog (standard poodle) that had my color of hair. He said I might be that big someday. Letty made a funny sound.

Usually, all I hear from her is "OFF"  "STOP"  "NO!"  I listen and I try to not scratch and jump, and bite, but I want to be a flyboy when I grow up. I want to leap off couches, jump over tables, fly over gardens, and run faster than rabbits. I can already dig a hole to China, whatever that means. She says that if I don't learn to "come" when they call me then I will have to go to doggie school. My favorite thing to do is go for walks with Jack because he lets me sniff and tinkle when I want to. If I walk with Letty, she says, "Let's go Murphy...come on...keep up."  Sometimes I just sit in the shade on soft green grass because it feels good on my tummy. I know they like me  because they rubs my belly and my ears anytime I want. 

Murphy and the rabbits.

Oh, my name is Murphy Doodle and I am four months old. My mama is an Australian Shepherd and my daddy is a black poodle. I think I am important to Jack and Letty because I make them laugh at me everyday. 

click on this link to laugh more about Murphy Doodle

“Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable”

Mary Oliver, poet

Stormy

Stormy Weather on the horizon.

My little sister, Jonya Lee (Stormy) Stapp, says that I have a storm magnet inside of me.  Wherever, we go it seems that storms are attracted to me. 

She is entirely wrong and I have spent decades trying to convince her that she is the storm magnet. After all, Mr. Jack Horner, manager of Woolworth's Five and Dime Store in Miami, Ok. in the 1950's would not have named my sweet darling blue eyed-brunette-haired little sister "STORMY" if she hadn't caused such temper tantrums and crying fits on the floor of the dime store when she didn't get what she wanted.  She is the reason that storms appear so often when we are together.

The End of story #1, she wrote with a smirk. 

The second Stormy in my life began the decades of reading horse and dog stories that broke my heart. Stormy, Misty's Foal;  Misty of Chincoteague; Black Gold, and all books by Marguerite Henry opened the floodgates of emotions that I discovered were real, even though they were caused by stories in a book, on pages, on paper, not in my backyard. That story never ends.

Imagine to my surprise to meet a real life Stormy, on the prairie in 2015. Stormy, the bison bull was born during an ice storm in 2013 and abandoned by his mother. Luckily, the herd's owners realized the situation and rescued the newborn bison. In the beginning he drank eight quarts of goat's milk a day.  

Stormy loved the warm sunny porch of his new home. 

Hearing of my friend's new family member, a group of retired teachers made our way to visit James and Sandy Stepp at their farm, Sandy Springs Farm.

By then Stormy ruled the ranch and all of its surroundings. He made his home wherever he went and he was no longer small. 

Stormy in the banquet barn, 2015

Six years have passed and there is a bigger "Stormy" on the horizon, who roams his own prairie. 

Stormy, front left and his herd.

In early June our grandchildren Ruth Ann and A.J. Walenz and mother, Katy and I drove out to Sandy Springs Farms to see up close real live bison. Stormy had grown into a  massive full adult bison (James said that people just want to call them buffalo, so they gave up and went along with the popular name.**) James explained that at  2,200 pounds Stormy was considered small by standard bull bison. 

Stormy still is comfortable with James walking beside him and scratching his head, but James no longer attempts to ride on Stormy's back, as he did the first four years. Stormy still likes to have his giant head scratched as the kids found out.  Ruth Ann stuck her hand into his forehead and coarse thick warm hair covered her hand all the way to where a watch band might be on her wrist before she touched his forehead. Tempted to pull out some of his hair for a souvenir, James offered to pick up bison hair off the trail, so the kids could take on his hair. 

Ruth Ann reaching through Stormy's hair to touch his forehead. 

A.J. wanted to go under the fence like James....

There is a new bison in the family. Her name is Daisy. She currently lives beside the house in her very own garden of red clay, flowers, a porch for shade, and an open gate to the back pasture so she can roam as she pleases. 

Daisy

Abandoned at birth like Stormy, she was sent to live with James and Sandy by another person who raises bison. Daisy is still skittish of people, but not dogs and cats.  She will walk up to James when he arrives with the 8 quart jug of goat's milk, and drink from the bottle he holds.

James holding 8qrt of goat's milk. 

Like all days and stories we must come to an end.  With a full belly Daisy and James can relax. As for us, with two young children we continued on to picnic at Red Rock Canyon and found even more adventures. 

James and Daisy napping after a hard day's work. 

The two weeks of downpours and stormy weather seem to have faded away, and the sun and clouds are clear today. In Oklahoma stormy weather is never far from the horizon, just like our stories.  

*On a side note my mother often sang the old songs, the songs my ears still enjoys, like Stormy Weather by Lena Horne

** The difference between bison and buffalo: Generally, the buffalo has a larger body than the bison. The buffalo also has bigger horns. The bison has a larger head used to forage for feed during the winter months. The buffalo also has a smooth coat while the bison has a shaggy winter coat. The bison has stocky legs, and a hump on its back which helps hold the musculature of their large head.Bison information

For more stories like this one click on these links below:

Out Standing in the Field  

Pioneer Courage  

I really did this.

I climbed on Stormy's back.

and didn't have time to hold on

before he took off. Thank you

James Stepp for saving my butt.

The fall was hard but it could have

hurt more than my pride 

Reflections on a Cool Clear July 4 Sunday

"Oh, the mind is a fragile thing." I am sure that's a quote by someone more famous than I am. Yesterday, I needed to buy broccoli seeds so I could sprout them. I understand they are some of the healthiest of greens to eat. I picked up my cell phone to look up the phone number for Dodson's Health Food store to ask if they had seeds to buy, while my husband looked down on my July 4th Golf Hat. 

He asked, "What is the Solo Cup on your hat stand for?"

My dear fragile mind heard him and typed in S O L O instead of Dodson's. Before I could regroup he had answered his own question and gone on, leaving me staring at my phone. "Oh, Brother?" I cried as I looked at S O L O. My poor mind has the attention span of a vacuum. 

And then, I looked up "Oh, brother" the idiom, wondering where it came from or what it meant. I thought it sounded rather 'Jane Eyre' of me to use a word showing such frustration.

Warning: Don't look in the Urban dictionary for the meaning.

And that is why I decided to take short notes on memorable things I did this week. 

Ironically, the big news is that I finished reading a novel The Rose Code. I must say it had my attention totally bound to the story line. Reading about code breakers in World War II is intense, but adding the role women played in saving Britain is spellbinding when in the hands of author Kate Quinn. 

The weather this week has been the topic of conversations and news alerts. While the west coast and east coast are baking in the sun, we are building canoes and arks to save us from the  Rains of Rancipour (click to watch a trailer of this 1955 movie), and still managing to play in golf FUNdraisers and conduct a WOGA Jr. Girls State Championship at Oak Tree Country Club. 

Kathy Hines and Jill LeVan

Our FUNdraiser team had exactly. We also experienced some honest frustrations with a par 3 with water on the left and in between, and tree lined on the right side. We just needed one perfect shot. Golf is not a game of perfect, and we managed to play the hole in a bogey and were proud of it. 

Letty, and Holly Hawk

The event to raise money for junior girls scholarships and grants to high schools is in its 7th year. We play in a shamble format meaning that we each tee off, go to the best tee shot and then play our ball into the hole. We played 15 holes before the clouds built up enough moisture to open and drench us. Sadly, we were not able to finish our round, but we did enjoy the day and the company. 

The next two days I volunteered to help shuttle girls from hole 18 to number 1 or to the clubhouse. I can't say I enjoying bouncing and bobbing up down and sideways while driving a golf cart, but I my soul glows when I listen to the stories and the positive attitudes the young girls display. They are amazing young women who exhibit grace and honestly in the face of total frustrations. The rains poured on them Tuesday, and for two holes they steered their push carts and golf balls through the driving sheets of rain. At last play was halted and we raced to the clubhouse. 

The last day of play flew by as nerves rattled instead of lightning. The emotions flowed as they do with all young competitors, and I found joy in watching the girls finish.  We must persevere. Congratulations, Maddi Kamas, our 2021 WOGA Girls Jr. Champion. 

Life is a game

Golf is serious...

The rains continued throughout the week, by Saturday we could smell fresh dry air and watch the fluffy clouds float by rather than build into cumulonimbus storms. 

We celebrated our Nation's Birthday last night, on a cool mosquito biting evening at The Trails Country Club amongst cheerful screaming children of all ages. How fun to sit back and watch the parents of these children, as they suddenly chased a child, put a broken neon necklace back together, held children in their laps when the fireworks began, and carried the sleepy little ones in their arms already laden with ice chest and lawn chairs.  My body often recalls those evenings and smiles. 

My wish for America is that we take the time to listen to each other for understanding and listen with empathy.