Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Tulsa (Page 31 of 139)

There’s a danger. Somewhere.

My parents would have spent their lives in prison. I roamed the countryside so much as a kid, it’s likely my parents couldn’t have found me with a bloodhound. Police in Maryland picked up a ten year old and a six year old for walking home from the park. A mile from their home. The parents may be charged. As I say, my own parents would have been repeat offenders in letting me wander.

“Free range” kids, they are calling them these days. Like the kids are just out there clucking and pecking grain aimlessly. Can it be that walking from the park is so high risk as to rate a ride in a squad car?

aKidWalk

I walked a mile uphill – both directions – just to get to school (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?), in the snow and rain, so I could get learned up. Did it unattended much of the time. Unsupervised. And during the summer months?

The hills were alive with bugs and snakes and rocks and the curiosity of a ten year old kid.

Now, it seems amazing that any of my generation survived. All that wandering around like marooned survivors. Enjoying it, too. Back in my day (which I had promised to never say, but – rebel that I am – rules are made to be broken. Excepting, of course, that walking home from the park rule). Yes, back in my day we described all the walking and wandering around by a quaint term.

Playing.

Sure, that was then. A different era. We were out playing. I get it that things are not the same as when I was a kid, even if I don’t really understand why it has to be that way. But – it is also true that kids were lost and hurt and heaven forbid! got into trouble even back in my yuteful youth. It just didn’t make the national news. Unfortunately, kidnapping wasn’t invented this past decade. There was a risk then just like there is now, and I’m guessing it is still an inherently small percentage of children taken by strangers in any given year.

I’m not saying bad things can’t happen.

When my kids were younger the debate was over the mall. How old? That was the most-posed question for a good year’s time, sometimes posed differently. As in, “Why can’t I go to the mall? All my friends can go.” That second line was usually delivered petulantly, guilt-inducingly. ALL the friends can go.

Well, I wasn’t going to have child services called on me. So they stayed supervised until they reached adulthood, at which point I now accompany them only about half the time. (I’m kidding, of course. It’s much less than half.) My reluctance was valid. No sooner did they get to the mall with all their friends, than they returned home as victims of violence. Ear piercings, for example.

That was in the general time-frame when I would have PAID them to walk a mile, so I wouldn’t have to stop my project to drive them across the neighborhood to the friend’s house, so they could be driven to the mall, so they could walk around and hang out. (Probably putting more than a mile of mall-walking on those name-brand tennis shoes that wouldn’t traverse our neighborhood.)

The Maryland kids spent hours with child protective services officers before finally being released, and now the parents are being investigated. Child neglect or endangerment or something.

I’m hoping there is more to the story than just walking home from the park. Maybe it’s gang-infested territory. Maybe wild dogs roam in packs through there. Could be an asteroid impact zone, for all I know.

But if the kids are walking home on the sidewalk after playing outdoors – without battery-backed-video-stimulation – I’m thinking the parents deserve a medal.

It’s not a long walk this direction, so… Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Time for a change.

Never have considered myself a clock watcher. Most of the jobs I’ve worked at over the years have been fast-paced enough or entertaining enough that the passage of time was never important. I still believe that to be true.

bankClock3

But I’ve looked over several times – out the front glass – and came away without the time. The big-handed clock on the front of 1st National Bank is gone, along with the arrowheads that marked each five minutes around the clock face. I still don’t consider myself a clock watcher, but I do realize how I had come to rely on that big timekeeper to gauge the day’s progress.

1st National is getting a make-over, inside and out. They told me that everyone inside has had to move their offices to the south end of the building interior while workers remodel the north half. Later, they’ll swap back while the other half is completed. They have to be jammed up just a little bit inside.

bankClock2

The time piece came down quickly and in case you missed seeing it for one final time, you can click on the image – one of the last that will have been taken of the bank façade. Since the bank is directly across the street and we have glass windows here at the book shop, I imagine I’ve looked at those fading awnings and dull siding more times over the past few years than anyone.

It’s going to be a nice new front – one that will fit in nicely with the turn-of-the-century-feel that the Rose District has come to represent. Messy now. Magnificent later. That’s how the bank’s excuse-our-mess sign reads. And if it winds up anything like the artist’s rendition, I don’t doubt it.

bankClock1

In the meantime, plastic is flapping against the chain link construction barrier, siding is being chipped away, and awnings are being pulled down.

Another sign of the continuing evolution of our little district. Shaping up, looking toward the future.

A rosy one, without question.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow, OK!

A Salute to the Colonel.

It’s nothing like the bonds formed among those in the service, but there is a camaraderie of sorts in the Rose District – born somewhat of mutual support. The Colonel was one of those who gave his support early on, bringing his associates down from the museum at lunchtime.

colPowell

And the military museum on Main Street owes much to his championing of the cause. He was the driving force behind its move to the Rose District, and only retired from his position there late last year. The accompanying photo is from then and is courtesy of moreBrokenArrow.com

I was saddened to learn of his passing.

From the museum’s Board of Directors:

After a life of service, Col. Robert W. Powell passed away last night at the age of 93. A memorial service to honor his life will be held at the First Presbyterian Church, 121 West College, Broken Arrow at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, April 10th. The church is located directly west of the Museum.

The Military History Museum will be closed during the memorial service. Following the memorial service, as requested by Col. Powell, the Museum will be open for a time of gathering and reflection.

In lieu of flowers, the family has requested that memorials be made to the Military History Museum or a charity of your choosing. Thank you for keeping the family in your thoughts and prayers.

Respectfully,

The Military History Museum Board of Directors

His health was failing, I knew. But his spirit never flagged.

Rest in peace, sir.

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