Come What May: Turner Falls

Jim Thorpe, Ira Hayes, Sacagawea, Squanto, Sitting Bull, Quannah Parker - you name'em, I cursed them. Every single Native American I could think of was on my short list Tuesday. Irrational? Not at the time. We drove four hours, in two cars, to get to "Indian City, U.S.A." for the end of the unit field trip (out in the middle of nowhere.) The brochure said, "Open 365 days a year, 9-5." We pulled in to one closed museum after another, and a padlocked Indian village. We couldn't even find the restaurant/casino that sold buffalo burgers. I finally channeled my anger at the Kiowa tribe. They seemed to be the main culpret who took over all the shares four months ago, and then shut the doors- without changing their message machine! Meaning, that we spent four tanks of gas to eat off the Sonic dollar menu.
The great news? We discovered the magic of Turner Falls on the way home, and we'll forever be grateful to the Apache and Commanche tribes for selling. It was awesome. And pretending you're a native, living in earlier times, probably goes a lot further in the memory bank than looking at a dusty collection would anyway. And it came none too soon. I had almost fogotten that I loved Oklahoma! It reminded me.

(I had planned to wade in the creek on the way home, but didn't bring a suit. I didn't think there would be much to swim in. The kids brought theirs though. When we pulled up and saw it, I wailed, "Oh dang it! I didn't bring a suit and it's too cold to get my clothes wet." Calder said, "HEY! I brought two, you could borrow one of mine!" There was a pause, and just when we thought he had figured out the modesty flaw in his offer he said, "Oh wait. Would it fit you?" Bwahahaha. Sometimes he cracks me up.)

The only other people on this 1500 acre paradise were a couple getting wedding pictures taken. I was sure hoping it was after the wedding. I don't know how that dress will ever get the red mud stains out of it.