Recently, I returned home to the great state of Oklahoma for a trip with my family to Kansas to watch my niece graduate from high school. Below are some thoughts that lingered after a trip to No Man’s Land.
My Parent’s Home
I loathe clichés. When it comes to writing, they can feel lazy and cheap, but damn it they get the point across. “Home Is Where the Heart Is.” Now, let me explain. I never thought I could love a place for my parents as much as I loved their home in Frederick. Yet, with them in Elk City, everything feels different and familiar at the same time. As I observe them at work and at play, I cannot picture them living anywhere else in the world. When I walk through those doors, I am home. My whole heart is between these walls.
Flix on Six
Frederick’s last movie theater closed long before I was born. As a kid, a journey to see a movie meant driving to Altus, Lawton, or Wichita Falls. In Elk City, Flix on Six stands as an opportunity for this cinephile to escape and see a movie. On this trip, I did precisely that. Flix on Six features ridiculously low movie and refreshment prices when compared to Los Angeles. For someone who has seen nearly 800 movies in a theater, I am always baffled by how cheap it all seems. With this said, every time I visit this theater, I end up watching a movie with the worst crowd imaginable; people who don’t understand the difference between a shared public space and their living room.
Kansas is like a fat-free version of Oklahoma. If you think the topography of Oklahoma is boring, Kansas screams, “hold my 96-calorie beer.” Of all the places one could live, my sister and her family have chosen to live north of the Oklahoma Panhandle in literal No Man’s Land where tumbleweeds actually roll across the plains. Every time I visit, I leave with more questions than answers, but most of them center around, “Why?” I have no intention of sticking around for very long to have these questions answered.
Modern day country music is an absolute flaming pile of garbage. I am no purist and have never really been a fan of the genre, but I know it is a gasoline-soaked trash pile visible from space, because after being in a car for six hours going back and forth between the terrible music of The Eagles and modern country I wish I was deaf. In fact, my nephew asked me, “Uncle Nathan, if you had to give up sight or hearing which one would you lose?” I responded hearing! Why? So, I would never have to hear this terrible, poorly written, Johnny Cash grave rolling, inauthentic, cash-focused, pop music rip off, regurgitated horseshit again.
On our drive back to my parent’s home, we were chased by thunderstorms rolling across the plains. As the evening sky darkened, lightning began to dance in the distance amid spirals of rain. A fresh clean smell filled the air and the blackest of night erupted in an orchestra of movement, magic, and music. Oh! How I have missed this!?! I will fall asleep with this drive on my mind. Later, it will make me long for home.
Be good to each other,
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