Stopped Snowing

Yes, it finally stopped snowing. And, sneeting. Yes, sneeting is a word and you can ask Gary England if you don't believe me. Looking out my window, I see about two inches of snow. It was more in some areas and less in others.

I watched the radar as this snow storm moved northeast. The ticker on the weather channel said "Snow storm stretches from Oklahoma to Maine." Maine?  Oklahoma and Maine are not normally used in the same sentence when it comes to weather. That was a first for me. Thankfully, this storm is dumping more snow in Maine. Sorry, Maine, but I like clear roads.

I woke up last night to the sound of thunder and sneet hitting the roof. As much as I don't like "winter precipitation,"  it is much better than the tornado sirens going off. As with all Okie weather, you never know what tomorrow holds. It could be tornadoes; stranger things have happened.

A Good Okie Wine

I'm a baseball connoisseur, not a wine connoisseur. I know what I like and I know what I don't like. That's all that matters to me. I have varied tastes. I love the fruity ones and the spicy ones. A rich dry wine is perfect for me as is sharply sweet wine. Thankfully, I found a rather interesting wine made right here in Oklahoma. After one glass, it became one of my favorite wines of all times. I'm talking about the jalapeno raisin wine from the Plain View Winery in Lahoma.

If you are looking for fancy "wine words," you won't find them here. I've never written a wine review. In fact, I don't think I've ever seriously read a wine review. I simply drink wine occasionally and I finally found one that is worth writing about.

This jalapeno raisin wine is unlike any wine I've ever tasted before. It isn't spicy and it doesn't have the "jalapeno heat" I was expecting. It is warm though. The aftertaste has a bit of the jalapeno heat I was expecting, but it is very subtle. It isn't something you would notice unless you were really paying attention to it. I suppose the sweetness of the raisin balances the heat and the fruitiness. It reminds me of a smooth bourbon, but with the texture of a wine.

What should you drink it with? I don't have a clue. I drank my with a combination pizza from Mazzio's. I tend to drink wine I like with food I like. Yes, I mix red wine with fish and white wine with steak. Hey, I'm the one drinking the wine and eating the food. Why shouldn't I eat and drink what I like?

I've made that about as clear as mud, haven't I? Let me make it a little bit clearer. It is a good wine and you should try it. Be careful, though. Never drink and drive or operate machine. Sorry, you've probably heard that before. And, if you aren't old enough to drink, don't do it. For the record, my mom hat never comes off. You should know that this wine has quite a kick. One glass and I was done. I had a second because I was at home and it tasted so good! So...

If you're ever in Lahoma, stop in the Plain View Winery and pick up a bottle or two. Stop into your local liquor store and see if they carry it. A little FYI - the Browns Bottle Shop in Stillwater is where I bought it. They even offered a 10% discount off all Oklahoma wines. I now know where I'm shopping for all my Okie wines.

Happy Oklahoma traveling,

Emma Riley Sutton

Oklahoma State of Mind

I recently received a sweet "tweet" from one of my Twitter friends about this blog. The Twitterer tweeted, "It put me in an Oklahoma state of mind." I'm not sure what others consider an Oklahoma state of mind, but I know what it means to me...

I go back in time to gardening with my Granny. We'd poke holes in the red dirt and drop little seeds into it. We'd pull crab grass from around that little patch of Heaven and watch all the vegetables grow. We grew the best tomatoes, green beans and sage ever. I can't find anything that compares to those veggies.

I see myself sitting on my Granddad's lap, driving around the farm on his riding lawn mower. It was a red and there was barely enough room for him, but he always made space for me. I learned to drive on the red lawn mower. We'd drive around for hours, waiting for Granny to call us in for supper.

An Oklahoma state of mind is huddled in the cellar listening to the wind blow and praying we'd still see the house and barns once we heard Gary England say it was safe to come out. I can see the coal oil lamps flicker against the whitewash on the walls. I can hear my Granny read from the Bible about how Jesus calmed the seas and how His eye is sparrow. "God didn't give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind," my Granny would quote. "I'm not afraid of the storm. I have a sound mind and that is why we are in the cellar."

I can't leave out driving to Rush Springs to "pick a good'en." Yes, watermelon is one of my weaknesses. We'd get the best one we could find and drive to a park in Duncan. There we would eat our watermelon and watch the birds in the trees and the squirrels dart around gathering food for the winter. Even the ants couldn't ruin our day. My grandparents had a plan; they would leave a piece of watermelon for the ants a few feet away and those ants wouldn't bother us.

For all of my breaks in college, I'd fly home. I'd watch the travelers at Will Rogers World Airport come and go with all their luggage. I'd make up stories for them, pretending I knew why they were their and what their plans were. That was a great way for me to create characters for all the writing I did. Hugs and kisses with tears of joy and sadness were seen all over the airport.

There is also piling up in the back of a pick-up and driving to the high school football games on Friday nights. "We're big B-I-G and we're bad B-A-D and we're boss B-O-S-S, B-O-S-S, boss!" we'd chant as we pulled into the town of the losing team. I was blessed to attend a school that won state championships year after year.

I remember sitting in the shade of a blackjack tree and watching the clouds. I could see all sorts of shapes and the wind moved the clouds about. Sometimes I'd be in my tree swing, wishing I could swing high enough to jump in the back of the fluffy white turtle cloud. The sun would set and all the colors would swirl around. I'd jump out of the swing into a pile of leaves and run inside to wash up for supper - Granny's soup with homemade biscuits or a big pot of beans. Unless she fixed a "real supper" which is a lot like the holiday meals I cook today. I wish I could make fried chicken, meatloaf and pork chops with all sorts of vegetables and desserts for one meal. My modern life doesn't afford me that luxury.

Oh, the fried pies. I still don't know how Granny made them. She'd go out and pick peaches, apricots and apples and, the next thing I knew, we had fried pies. She made jams and jellies from all the fruit as well. I opened the last jar of her apricot preserves a few years ago. My daughter loved it. It was my favorite as well. There was never a recipe written down so I wont' be able to even try to reproduce her masterpiece. She never used recipes. She could just look at whatever she was cooking or baking and now what and how much to add.

I can't leave out my great-uncle's tent revivals he would have in my grandparent's backyard. We'd place long boards on cement blocks for pews. "Heaven's high and Hell's hot, I'm gonna preach," my uncle would say. He was a fiery Pentecostal preacher that walked the talk he talked. Folks would drive for miles to hear him preach. You'd have to get there early to find a seat. I remember the family picnics before those revivals. It seemed the Riley clan came out of the woodwork to hear him preach. He traveled around the country and seeing him was a real treat; he only made it home once or twice a year, if that. He preached well into his nineties.

An Oklahoma state of mind is driving to downtown Oklahoma City and going to the National Oklahoma City Memorial. I remember bringing supplies to those who were helping rescue people. I saw the paws of dogs bleeding as they searched for survivors of the bombing. People huddled in small groups. Some sang hymns and others just stood silently, waiting for the impact to finally hit them. Folks came from all over to help us. And, we helped ourselves. We banded together and did what we could - still reeling from the shock of the situation.

The smell of a cotton field puts me in an Oklahoma state of mind. I don't see many of them anymore, but I remember them. I also remember the stories about picking cotton my family told me. How the dust bowls hit and some of the men set out to California to be "prune pickers." They worked hard and sent back the money they earned to keep their families and farms going during those dark days. Those stories give me hope. No matter how tough the times are now, I know we will make it through. If they could make, we can as well.

A woman in our community was diagnosed with cancer. Her husband, an oilfield worker, had been laid off and the temporary job he was working didn't offer health insurance. We had countless bean suppers, garage sales and the like to raise money for her treatment. We put together an old-fashion "singing." The Riley boys, my cousins, brought in their guitars, fiddles and other instruments to play and sing. There were lots of other talented folks showed up to "pick and sing" for this lady and her medical needs.

Yes, these are all things that put me in an Oklahoma state of mind. Little pieces of my past that lets me know I'm an Okie. Lets me know I'm proud to be an Okie. I often wonder if other people feel as strongly about their home as I do. Do folks in other states have such stories to tell? Do they understand their rich heritage and use it to make a better tomorrow for themselves and their families? I'm a bit partial so it is hard for me to believe that they have such a history, a history that can put them in to such a wonderful state of mind.

I'm ending it here. I could keep going, but I can't see the computer screen or keyboard through my tears. They are happy ones, though. I have really put myself in an Oklahoma state of mind.

Happy Oklahoma traveling,

Emma Riley Sutton

2009 Oklahoma State Fair

I rolled myself home from the 2009 Oklahoma State Fair, full of all the "fair food" I could have eaten one day. Actually, I think I ate more than I could have in one day.

I was also packing memories that will last me a lifetime. Even without all the photos of the fair I took. I met some great folks, saw some great sites and had a terrific time. I would say "just like every year," but, somehow, it gets better every year.

I met Froggie. He is a member of "Bikers Against Child Abuse" (BACA) and a genuinely nice man. We talked as we watched my daughter on the carousel. He told me had just left court; he had been there helping a child that had been abused. I learned a lot about BACA as my daughter waved from her purple horse.

I saw the livestock that was about to be shown. I met a very sweet bull named "Sanddollar Charger" who stole my heart. I didn't know bulls could love having their pictures taken so much. He had to have known what a camera was because he really hammed it up for me. Hammed it up! He's a bull. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh so hard at my own "funnies."

The "nursery" was great. We say baby goats (triplets) that were two days old and piglets that were four days old. We watched a baby chick hatch. The three of us stood in awe as another life entered the world. My daughter announced she wants baby pigs to live in our house. That was when we knew it was time to go to the insect exhibit. The beehive was fascinating, but she didn't want one of those at home.

My husband dragged me and my daughter out of the petting zoo. I knew he would have to that. She loved the camel and thought he was much softer than the sheep. She and I are both curious why a kangaroo and a turtle shared living quarters. They got along great, but it was an unusual combination.

I rode all the rides. I even got on the swings with my daughter. I can ride any roller coaster, "spin in tight circles" ride and the "drop you millions of feet" rides, but I don't do well on the ones where my feet dangle. Strange, I know, but that is me. I need to have a "Zipper" installed in my backyard. I could ride that one forever.

Of course, there was the food. I won't tell you how many of each I had, but I overly-enjoyed all the stuff they had to offer. I would love to have the recipe for fried Oreos and fried Twinkies. Why they aren't a food group all to themselves is a mystery to me. You can't live without them. I did eat some healthy stuff as well. The turkey legs were great as was the corn on the cob.

Unfortunately, the fair is over for this year. It was much more fun than last year which was much more fun than the year before. I sincerely hope I never get to old for the fair. I don't see how.

Happy Oklahoma traveling,

Emma Riley Sutton

Back to The Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum

Wanting to get to the bottom of this little mystery, I packed up my notepad and my camera and back to Pawnee I went. I was hoping to gain a little more insight to my previous adventure...

The staff greeted me, remembering me and my experience. Once again, just as before, I felt very welcome and comfortable. Into the mansion I went, both with an open mind and an open heart. I wasn't sure what I would or would not see, but I was determined to enjoy whatever happened to me there.

I turned on my camera and clicked away. No funny, floaty, filmy lights in my camera's view finder. I did feel a bit strange, but I think that is understandable. I noticed all the pretty items on display - the paintings, the china, the Tiffany lamps. Once again, I was taking it all in. I made my way up the staircase. The eyes of the Indian in the painting followed me, but his eyes follow everyone. Most eyes in painting do that anyway.

At the top of the stairs, I turned to the toy room. There was the old train set Pawnee Bill and May's son played with behind the red rope. Sitting behind the train set and slightly off to the side was a little boy. Plain as day. I guessed him to be about six years old, give or take. He was wearing blue jeans and a light cotton shirt. I could see the dirt on his bare feet.

I know there shouldn't have been a little boy playing back there. No is allowed past the red rope. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them slowly. I looked again, more closely this time. He was still there.

Feeling foolish, I waved at him. He waved back at me, grinning ear to ear. Not just any wave, though. He waved at me as if he was thrilled to see me. Maybe he was waving at me because he was thrilled to be seen. I knelt down on one knee and waved again. He waved also, more enthusiastically than he did the first time.

I took the picture of the playroom. He sat there smiling, more interested in his toys than with me. I made my way down the stairs and then outside. I was leaving with more questions than answers.

Back in the museum, I told the staff what I had seen. They smiled and nodded. I was told I was the only adult they knew of that had seen the little boy.

I told the staff good-bye, drove through the Pasture Exhibit, and then started back home. The first time I left the museum, I didn't have any regrets. I was leaving with regrets this time.

All the way home and even now, several hours later, I regret not talking to the little boy. I don't think he would have spoken to me, but there are things I would like for him to know.

I would love for him to know how nice it was for me to see him. It was lovely to see him playing and being happy.

I also think he needs to know that the lady who walks through his home all the time is there to help care for his home and all the things in it. She is sharing his life and the lives of his parents with people who might never understand their importance if not for her.

I would also like for him to know that all the people who visits him home will not bother him or his things. They are there to learn about what life was like "way back then." I want him to feel secure in the thought that those who work at the museum will do everything they can to make sure that the mansion, all its contents and the ranch are well taken care of.

Yes, I wanted to have a conversation with a little boy that no one else saw. And, yes again, I don't believe what I saw him.

I guess I am going to have to roll with this one. I still don't believe in ghosts. I know the mansion isn't haunted and that evilness is not all around. I also know I saw a little boy playing where a little boy was not suppose to be. I know in my heart of hearts, down in my soul - deep in my bones - he waved at me.

Somethings just aren't meant to be understood. My adventures at the Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum will have to fall into that category. Truth be told, I don't really want to understand it. I just want to live with the fact that I saw what I saw. No one has to believe me. I don't even have to believe me.

I hope to go back and visit again. Should I see the little boy again, I will stop and talk to him. Maybe tell him he should play outside a little, watch the buffalo do whatever it is that buffalo do and go in the museum to see all the things that his Momma and Daddy held so dear. Of course, make friends with the folks who work there. I am sure they will love him as much as they love the ranch and museum.

Happy Oklahoma traveling,

Emma Riley Sutton

Visiting the Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum

I have visited many museums, all over the country, in my life. Despite this, nothing compares to my recent trip to Pawnee in Green Country, the northeast corner of Oklahoma. In the past few weeks, since starting my TravelsOklahoma website, I have been visiting several museums each week. The Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum appeared to be "normal" on the outside, but that certainly wasn't the case.

The museum was full of fun and interesting items about Pawnee Bill, his wife May and their wild west show. Despite being a small museum, there was a lot of information to take in. Well taken care of by a staff that loves the museum, I felt welcomed - almost as if I were visiting someone's home. Walking around, waiting for the tour to of the home to start, I learned so much about Oklahoma, Pawnee Bill and life.

Once the tour of the home started, I was surprised by how well it was maintained and the lovely artwork and furnishings. As a member of the press, I was allowed to take photographs inside the home. Sort of. That is where this trip to a museum gets a bit more than strange...

In the view finder of my camera, I was seeing strange purple filmy and floating lights. I laughed about this as I explained I was probably catching the motion detectors in place behind the ropes that kept visitors from the antiques in the room. I was perfectly content with this explanation; I could have lived my entire life believing that was what I was seeing.

"The motion detectors are on the floor," the tour guide explained, pointing to them inches above the beautiful floors. She was right. Why did she have to right? I preferred my explanation to the unusual lights I was seeing.

Not wanting to speculate as to what my camera was picking up, I continued the tour. I was enthralled by the Tiffany chandeliers and gorgeous artwork. Upstairs an antique train set that was played with by Pawnee Bill and May's son caught my eye. Putting the experience of the purple lights behind me, I pulled out my digital camera to take a picture. No funny purple lights in this room. I pushed the button to take the photo and nothing happened. I looked at the camera - no memory. My memory card holds more than 700 photos. I was not out of memory.

The tour continued. I didn't want to appear uncomfortable (spooked?) to the others on the tour with me. I tried not to think about what had happened. Stepping outside the home, I looked at my camera. The message I was out of memory had disappeared.

"Come back and try again," the tour guide suggested.

I stepped back inside the house and the memory had, once again, disappeared.

"I'm being asked very politely not to take pictures," I stammered to the tour guide, who smiled understandingly.

I made my way back to the museum where I was greeted with "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" by the woman at the desk. I was fine. All I needed was directions to the Pasture Exhibit. I wanted to see the buffalo that still lived on the ranch.

I drove around the half mile dirt road in the pasture. I saw cattle and draft horses. Towards the end of the exhibit, I saw the buffalo. There were several buffalo calves in the herd. Once again, I got out my camera, thinking I would be able to take a few photos of the baby buffalo. The batteries were dead.

Once back in my hometown, I went to the store where I had purchased the camera less than a month ago. The batteries were removed and worked fine in a camera they had behind the counter. A technician looked at my camera. The technical term she used was "fried" when she checked both the camera's internal memory and the memory card. She placed my "fried camera" in a box and gave me a new one. Thankfully, it was still under warranty.

I offer no explanation as to what happened that Saturday in Pawnee. I don't believe in ghosts. Well, I don't think I believe in ghosts. I am currently re-examining my views on that subject.

By the way, I am going back to the Pawnee Bill Ranch and Museum. Once I recover from my last visit. I am going to try to take more photos to add to the slide show at TravelsOklahoma. We will have to wait and see how that works out.

Happy Oklahoma traveling,

Emma Riley Sutton