Tahlequah
I’m in Tahlequah, sharing a room with my brother. The funeral is tomorrow.
I forget, in between visits, how different the reservation is from the rest of the world. In some ways, quaint and charming. In others, not so much. Natural features and cities are named for what they are (Rock Creek, Coal Creek, Limestone Creek), or who lives there (Choctaw, Cherokee, Chickasha) or for what particular individuals might have accomplished (Tenkiller). On Friday nights, high school football stadiums fill up to watch the “Savages” do battle against the “Warriors” or the “Redmen.” (There are plenty of “Tigers” and “Cougars” and “Tornadoes,” too.) Then there’s the poverty, the alcoholism and the casino economies where, unlike tourist attraction-Las Vegas, the day-in and day-out, hardcore players are the people living within ten miles of the neon signs.
For the most part, the people are decent, honest and hard working and, to a man, they loved my Grannie. And that makes me think that, sometimes, Oklahoma doesn’t suck so badly after all.
Email Article Friday, September 22nd, 2006 at 11:21pm Mack Simpson
Filed under: No Really, A Life, Monkey Travel | add this post to del.icio.us
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