A few times in my life, like after a heartbreaking divorce or recuperating after a deadly stroke, for example, I’ve gone to hide in the secluded sticks for a few months, with family and friends deep in the Oklahoma country.
Even though I grew up on a farm in a small Texas town, it seems that fifteen or twenty years of unadulterated city living has made me forget what that life was all about, so to be thrown back in it is usually a cattle-prod shock for the first few days. That, usually, is followed by an excitable new lease on country living that, after a few months, somehow turns to boredom, piquing that unshakable city-bred feeling that you are always missing out on whatever is going on.
It also helps when you don’t have to drive an hour just to get to a Wal-Mart, but let’s not argue about that right now.
Whenever you first hit the spacious countryside, your welcoming banner to small town living comes in the form of a variety of pastoral smells, from dead skunks on the road to live manure in the fields; get accustomed to either the haughty stench or learn to breathe through your mouth. I, personally, taught myself to inhale deep and exhale proudly, regardless of the agrarian funk. I could teach you if you want.
Now, to be fair though, in addition to the natural farmland bouquet, there might also be a hint of a strange chemical scent wafting about, and that, probably, is methamphetamines. Cookers, as they’re called, will hide out in their tree-buried RVs and dilapidated shacks, brewing their moneymaking crank, far from the pervasive eyes of law-enforcement. It too, if you’ve got the constitution, will become an essence you’ll get used to, maybe even love. But don’t love it too much though.
But, if the Oklahoma campestral lands lives up to a stereotype, it has to be the oversaturation of cows and horses, everywhere you look, for miles on end. Most bovine are cud-chewing beasts that usually deserve a cow-tip and well-earned spot on your Corning Ware, while horses, however, are a lot like dogs, with their own wickedly bawdy sense of humor that allows their unique personalities to burn through. We tend not to eat them.
And, speaking of dogs, people abandon them by the dozen out in agricultural settings, so don’t be surprised if eventually you become the proud owner of five or six throwaway mutts that just hang out on your property, looking for scraps of whatever food you got in-between disappearing for days on end. If you’re lucky, some return with a gut full of puppies.
Many times, for a little rest and relaxation, you might think there’s nothing like going down to the lone Dollar General in town to grab a pop and shoot the bull with folks. There’s the hateful old man who sits out front, the hateful clerk who ignores you and, best of all, that one hateful young Turk out in the parking lot with spider-web tattoos and an SS logo on his truck, typically looking for some city-folk trouble.
If you can avoid all these country creeps, more power to you. But if you feel like you got to take a brave stand, well, I’ll see you in Heaven if you make the list.
Truth be told, however, if you can put your red state tendencies in check for long enough, there truly are plenty of opportunities to have a good time. For example, in these small Oklahoma towns, every weekend, a ladies auxiliary at a Baptist church or maybe the volunteer fire department all get together for an old school fish fry or, even better, if you got some Natives living there, enjoy an Indian taco dinner. Usually it’ll run you about five bucks and free refills on your Flavor-Aid, if you’re charming.
Sadly, I usually have to pay another quarter.
But, the one thing you can do in the country that you really can’t do here: find a field as wide as the horizon, and watch one of those mosquito-drenched Oklahoma sunsets. And, if you’re lucky enough to find yourself a bucolic boy or a georgic girl to spend time with while you’re in the country, the Oklahoma sunrise as well. It ain’t all bad.
Except for rattlesnakes. Look out for rattlesnakes.
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Follow Louis on Twitter at @LouisFowler and Instagram at @louisfowler78.
Looking good, Louis!!!!
Nice friendly horses too. They want a snack.
That pic is actually a few years old. But the horses are friendly.
Thomas Wolfe titled his book, “You Can’t Go Home Again”. I grew up in Choctaw before there was an Interstate to bypass us. We had less than five thousand people living in an area the size of Midwest City. I can’t afford to live where I grew up and would pay money not to live in the areas I can afford. Sadly I and my property are safer in Moore. Sadly Norman Rockwell much like Elvis is dead.
I was raised in the country but have spent the last quarter century living in Norman. One of the joys of country life that I miss the most is being able to take a whizz just about anywhere I wanted.
Step your game up. My dad never let moving to Edmond stop him…
I have no idea what Oklahoma you claim to live in.
According to you, OKC is full of gang bangers and hood rat stuff, and the country is full of foul smells and racists. With SS stuff to boot. Broad strokes to paint your fellow citizens with amigo.
Especially after your publicly and crowd funded medical procedures. Bunch of hick jerks we are I guess. Incidentally glad you are alive, despite being a republican myself.
And there are plenty more stereotypical natives than Nazi supporters in them thar’ hills too.
Louis remarked upon the SS in terms of Super Sport pickups, not the Nazi storm trooper variety.
Yikes!
I live there. He ain’t too wrong. The workers at our DG are hateful jerks. But we do have lovely breakfasts, lunches and dinners for worthy causes.
so since he pointed out a few assholes, he didnt deserve to get help with his medical bills?
why dont you go eat a dick
Proud (of what?) Okie:
If the shoe fits, wear it. 😉
I kicked in a small contribution for Louis in appreciation of his good work here. Did you?
Something has to be done about the dog dumpers! Maybe the cookers could get a free pass from the law if their fancy surveillance equipment catches some waste of human flesh dumping their dog? May all the dog dumpers rot in hell.
Reminds me of my teen years in a small town. A farmer in an even smaller town paid two of us kids to work summers for him fixing fence, moving cattle, cutting hogs (don’t ask) He obviously raised pigs and had a problem with a pack of wild dogs taken out his piglets at night. We got $12 each to sleep in a tin lean to next to a baler and try to keep these dogs away. It was a great summer. We bought Schlitz malt liquor beer out the back door of the local bar that even had a bell to ring.for that purpose.. It was $6 a case, which was a lot at the time.
On a few occasions we even managed to talk some girls to come out. Once we even skinny dipped in the pond. Never got lucky out there, but these were good times.
This is a great story! Thanks for sharing!
I grew up in the country & loved it.
Louis: You can find rattlesnakes to avoid and the overpowering stench of massive amounts of manure in OKC. Just go hang around the state capitol.
Country living is grand. There’s no money, but there is community. And the people are far more tolerant than city folk.