I Couldn't Agree More

This past Friday, the sisters, my adorable mom, and I headed to Oklahoma for the weekend. As I was hosting an alumni event in Oklahoma City on Sunday evening, we used it as a platform for a weekend getaway to my favorite place on the planet.

Nothing spells home to me like roads made out of red dirt, wide open blue sky, grazing cattle, and the signature wave of friendly Oklahomans while driving through the country. As soon as I cross the state line, peace washes over me.

Home.

It's my favorite place to be.

As a kid, I never appreciated Oklahoma. It's all I knew, of course, so I didn't realize that small town living was a privilege. I thought everybody went to church in a small town church where the pianist was your mom and the choir was made up of 12 mediocre singers. I had no idea that attending a chili supper with all the fixings at the high school gymnasium and it was attended by pretty much every person who lived in town was peculiar. Splashing in mud puddles on the street corner, counting cattle grazing out in the fields and rounding them up with the four-wheeler, cheering for our football team that was comprised of pretty much every guy in high school, and hanging out on the swing on a lazy afternoon and waving as the neighbors passed by was common fare.

Isn't that what it means to be an American?

That, at least, is what I thought. I thought our lifestyle was American living - not small town Oklahoma living.

When I was in high school I visited my Aunt Lena for a couple of weeks. Aunt Lena lived in Niles, Michigan -- a quaint little town on the outskirts of Lake Michigan that boasted of beautiful tree-lined streets and pristine shops nestled downtown. One day we were walking along the road and several cars passed us along the way. I raised my hand and waved at each one because...well, you know...that's what you do. At least, that's what we Oklahomans do.

After I waved at a few cars, Aunt Lena chuckled and said, "Why are you waving at everyone?"

I looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean? Doesn't everyone do that?" I asked, baffled.

"Not in Michigan," she laughed. "People would perceive that as being nosy - getting in their business. We don't wave in Michigan."

That was the first I'd heard of such nonsense.

I married at the ripe old age of 20 and headed off for the majestic Rocky Mountains in Colorado. And as our journey continued, we lived in some of the most amazing states in the land: Wisconsin, New Mexico, North Carolina...

But as the years have rolled by, I've come to realize what a little gem Oklahoma truly is. In my humble opinion, it's the best kept secret out there. Oklahomans? They are just good peeps. Genuine, big-hearted, down-to-earth people.

When I'm home on a Sunday, I usually attend church with my dad and Jo. Now their church is akin to a little country church that has around 50-60 people in the pews on any given Sunday. As the service is about to begin, a gawky teenager walks down the aisle and lights the candles at the front of the church, and then we all sing together from an aged hymnal, our voices combining in a way that I imagine sounds like Scout's church choir sounded in To Kill a Mockingbird.

That, at least, is what I always think when I listen for a minute.

It never ceases to make me smile.

Not too long ago a friend of mine lost her father who lived in Oklahoma. She wrote a eulogy for him, posting his photo on social media, and properly honoring him with such kind words. The one thing that struck me was when she talked about how her dad would travel to beautiful countryside. When he returned home, she would ask him about the sites he saw. He would say, "Oh, those mountains were stunning to behold. But nothing is as beautiful as Oklahoma."

When we loaded into the car on Friday to head for Oklahoma, I noticed that Lori was wearing a shirt with words on it. "Wait," I said, as she was busily running from the house to the car and back, loading up suitcases and such. "What does your shirt say?"

She proudly turned towards me so that I could read it, stretching it out a bit so that the letters were clear.

"I've never been to heaven, but I've been to Oklahoma," the shirt proudly proclaimed.

Plowed red dirt and mile after mile of country roads and barbed wire fence and kids on bicycles in the grocery store parking lot and cheers resonating from the stadium at the Friday night football game...

I couldn't agree more.