More Morning Skies

Twelve morning minutes
Twelve miles into the dark sky
Ever brightening blue

 

Early in the Morning Gray

I like this particular shade of gray,
Which usually takes my breath away
As I drive to face a busy day.

Land of Cotton

A New American

Yesterday was a red, white, and blue day at our house. My brother's wife, Hazel, got her American citizenship and was presented papers at a ceremony in Texas. It has been a long, sometimes difficult process. About ten years ago, my brother advertised online at a pen pal site, for someone he could e-mail and get to know; He was hoping to meet a young lady who would eventually marry him, but it seemed a long shot. Through a short, serendipitous free offer, at an internet cafe, far away in the Philippines, a young girl took a giant chance and responded. She was looking for a friend, but more than that, a Christian man, one who would treat her with respect and provide a way for her to help her family survive, one who would not abuse her, sell her or abandon her. My brother got her address and they began a correspondence that would last five years, first by e-mail, and later through a phone he provided her. After three years, he persuaded my dad to accompany him to the Philippines and meet her family. For a year after that visit, Hazel tried to get her papers so she could come to the United States and be married here. It didn't work. She was rejected.

People warned my brother: "She's just trying to get to America. She'll abandon you once she gets over here." He said he was willing to take that chance. Her friends warned her, "You never know about those Americans. You'll get over there, and they'll sell you to a slave market." But she trusted God that this man was genuine and really loved her.
So my brother, my dad, and my mom flew to the Philippines for month and they had a huge wedding over there. Then, armed with a marriage license and an album full of wedding photos, Hazel re-applied. This time it worked. Almost five years ago, just before Christmas, she finally arrived in the United States.

So yesterday we stood in the courthouse. There was no room to sit. The rows were full of new Americans--from countries that encircled the globe: Kenya, Congo, Russia, Columbia, Mexico, China, Burma, India, Iran. Standing there watching them was one of the most wonderful things any one could do in a courtroom.









Some were proud, self-assured, and bold when we pledged allegiance. Others sat quietly, withdrawn, with who knows what haunted visions. Some smiled easily; others only once--when they held the papers in their hands.

There were families with children, all waving American flags. Interesting profiles from all different races.
















They had to repeat a long oath of allegiance, promising to defend this country and abandon their former loyalties.

We heard America the Beautiful, listened to a short address about the freedoms promised in our constitution, the responsibility to participate in the judicial and the electoral process, and the priviledges of being an American.  Then, as names were called, nearly 80 candidates came forward to receive their papers of citizenship. This lady could hardly walk, but she was determined to receive them into her own hands.

This family came hesitantly forward, but, encouraged by the warm smiles of the judges, lawyers, and court personnel, they smiled and left for the foyer and the cookies provided by ladies of the DAR.

I was particularly impressed by this gentleman, the only representative from his country, one known for its oppressive government and for the magnitude of human suffering seen there. He seemed to absorb the ceremony and breathe it in.  Though it was dark in the courtroom and my pictures were grainy, I managed to catch this joyful expression when he went forward.

Hazel was estactic, as were we all--her new family in America.
She has proven a wonderful sister-in-law, a help and encouragement to my mother and father, a good wife to my brother, and a bright, animated, industrious, friend.

So what of her family, left to fight their way through the poverty of their village? Did she abandon them? Not at all. For them, she has been an angel, helping her parents build a small home of their own, paying for her Mom's tuberculosis medicine, for her brother's college tuition, her sister's board exams. She arranged for the planting of one hundred coconut trees on the small plot of hilly land owned by her disabled father, and she sends boxes of goodies to her home church and pastor--vitamins and notebooks for the children.
How has she been able to afford such benevolence? My brother is not a wealthy man. Well. She has a steady job at Wal-mart, a simple job but it pays her more than all the combined incomes of her family back home. She is a blessed woman. And we are one blessed family!

I know it's fashionable to criticize this country, to disparage the founding fathers and question every motivation of government, but I'm still optimistic. I believe in what our constitution stands for... this nation of immigrants who yearned for freedom, welcoming difficulty, and risking peril, all for hope of a better life.

Medicine Park

Not so very far from Lawton, Oklahoma, huddles a sleepy little resort town called Medicine Park.  It was first created just after the nineteenth century jumped eagerly into the twentieth, and politicians wanted a place to rest from the tension of making laws and running for office.






A lot of water pours through little streams and wide, shallow rivers onto the tilted plain of Oklahoma. Left to its natural inclinations, this water wouldn't linger, but rush self-centeredly onward to cast itself into the Mississippi and from thence to the sea.  Fortunately for Oklahoma, some of the aforementioned politicians decided to dam the rivers and create a jillion little reservoirs to water the villages during our not-so-uncommon droughts. They also built lakes and ponds to supply a few large cities.


One of these reservoirs was just perfect for the building of a little resort. Hence, Medicine Park.  For a few years, it thrived. People built tiny cabins from the round stones manufactured in the area, or they camped out by the pond-river and fished. There was a large restaurant and a plethora of social events.


Medicine Park was the place to visit, and everybody who was anybody in Oklahoma spent time there.


Then a few events transpired: The Great Depression, World War I, and World War II to name them.  

The town fell into disuse. Walls made of wood and canvas rotted away, but the stone
foundations remained.










Animals moved into the semi-shelters. The restaurant failed, as did the grocery store. For years and years, Medicine Park was a poverty-stricken ghost town. Then, in the optimistic 1990's, some clever developers discovered the place and promptly turned it into "the place to be" again.
There was a mad scramble to buy all the original structures...

... build large cabins over and around them, being careful to preserve any round stones, which had become the status trademark of this new, popular hide-away.

Teeny little restaurants opened on the week-ends, and visitors sat out in the Oklahoma shade and talked about how hot it was.

Condos re-opened under modern management, and they were no longer out-dated; they were quaint and rustic.

Some cabins overwhelmed the original buildings, but, as long as they had a round-stone foundation, they were accepted as part of the elite avant-garde society.






Down by the water, weeds were cleared away and landscaped plants were carefully positioned to look like natural growth.

A trail was blazed to follow the "river"s edge.

And antique-looking lamp posts sprang up under the cottonwood trees.

Abandoned wagon wheels were manufactured to become the support for serendipitous park benches, where one could stare longingly at one's fishing bobber as it refused to submerge.

Ducks and geese soon took advantage of the swimming hole, conning the visitors out of Cheetos and potato chips.

But the visitors didn't mind. They only wanted to frolic in the water as it poured over the walls and sit in the sun, listening to music on their cell phones or texting all their friends about how great life is when we get back to nature.

Rest and relaxation are good medicine, after all.

I visited Medicine Park recently, and enjoyed the shady trail beside the water,

which ends abruptly near the dam, in a flight of stairs leading up to main street.

I particularly admired this house, and the way the builder used old stones to reconstruct the stairway.

Artists and musicians have moved into Medicine Park, making it a venue that is "sought-after".

Statues abound--a cougar, a giraffe, and a native buffalo.

Down by the water, Oklahoma children play.

The restaurant is thriving once again.

And the hamburger stand serves real buffalo burgers.








It's a fine place to visit on a cool summer day!