I grew up in the little town of Wagoner, Oklahoma.
My dad was the mayor when I was born and then was our State Representative for the next seventeen years.
My mom opened her own Montessori school when I was five.
My dad had been the best looking guy in high school, from the best family in town and my mom had been the beauty queen. She was thirty when I came.
They traveled a lot, went to Europe.
I knew the Governor on a first name basis.
Our town was so small that when a McDonalds finally came sometime in the late 1990s it put the Kentucky Fried Chicken out of business.
You just can’t make stuff like this up.
My dad still lives in the house we were raised in.
My dads parents had a big ranch outside of town.
It was around 20,000 acres or so.
I think it was the first house west of the Mississippi to have indoor plumbing.
It was also the part of Oklahoma where the Trail of Tears ended. A forced march of thousands of Indians, men, women and children, in the winter from Georgia and all over the South by white men. Oklahoma was intended to be Indian
Territory but that ended in 1907 when white people decided to settle there.
What an incredibly disgusting part of our history and humanity.
There were always Indians that would never come into the ranch house.
To this day no one is convinced its not haunted.
At one time my grandfather owned a dairy.
When they moved to the ranch, he kept a milk cow named Rosie.
The reason was, he hid his bottle of whiskey out in the barn.
There were many days Rosie got milked a lot.
Grandma Jessie was a staunch Baptist and there was no alcohol allowed in her house or in her presence.
Jeff and his family live there now.
The milk barn fell down after the last tornado went through.
Jeff has built one that’s bigger and has a man cave.
I think Granddad would like that.
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