|I would like to introduce you to Rosie. The newest addition to the DMZ.|
Many years ago when I was little I used to love staying at my Aunt Peggy's farm house out in the middle of nowhere in the Oklahoma panhandle. There were only two t.v. stations to watch from a 20 foot antenna and depending on the weather we might accidentally get a fuzzy picture from a third station in Ensign, Kansas so a person had to use their imagination to make the day pass by and my cousins Randy, Billy, and Terry were experts in this particular field of entertainment.
Up in the Oklahoma Panhandle there aren't very many trees across the rolling plains and if you see a clump of trees out there you can just about bet one of two things are going on. The first would be that many farmer/ranchers planted them around their houses to use as a wind break for those harsh panhandle winds that blow through the land or to provide shady cool refuge from the scorching panhandle sun. The second reason you might see a clump (and I use the word clump because forest or grove would over exaggerate the number of trees that actually exist in that part of the world) of trees such as Cottonwood or Chinese Elm that could be seen across the landscape was only because there was a pond, creek, or river near by. Well it just so happened that my cousins Randy, Billy, and Terry lived within 200 yards of the mighty Kiowa Creek which trickled into the North Canadian River (or Beaver River as we called it) which runs through much of the Oklahoma Panhandle and this is where many adventures took place daily. Randy lived on the west side of Kiowa Creek with Billy and Terry living on the east side. All three boys were older than me so I saw it as a great privilege to hang with my older cool cousins. How lucky could a five year old get to hang out with such wise and experienced individuals. I was mesmerized by this fact and would have walked through fire just to hang with them. I followed those guys around like a little puppy excited to see what the adventure of the day looked like. I don't quite remember the details of how we planned out each adventure but we sometimes had top secret meetings in the old storm cellar north of Randy's house which jumped the whole experience into the "Mega Cool" category because none of my other five year old friends had an under ground fort (insert your Tim Allen "man grunt" now). I don't even remember Uncle Bob and Aunt Peggy having a telephone in the house and we cousins must have communicated with each other by Morris Code, Smoke Sign, and probably Mental Telepathy because we all seemed to find our way down to Kiowa Creek at the same time each day and didn't go back to the house until late in the afternoon. I can remember being so excited as I stayed in Randy's hip pocket as we made our way down to the creek. Man those were fun times. We would fish, hunt turtles, tell stories, have stick and dirt clod fights and even wade around in the creek when we got too hot. I'm sure that I got on Randy, Billy and Terry's last nerve much of the time and they probably tried to ditch me a time or two but my brain just refuses to remember those occasions in order to keep all of those Kiowa Creek Adventures in that "Mega Cool" category of my five year old life.