I stood by my mom’s bed and reached my hand over and placed it on a baseball-size lump on her head.
       It was late September 2009 and I knew time was short for my mom. Cancer had taken over her body and the diagnosis wasn’t looking good.
       It had been 12 years earlier in August 1997 when doctors first found cancer in one of her breasts. Mom opted to have it removed.
        At the time, my mom chose not to have chemo administered after the surgery. She recalled an uncle and aunt in Tulsa who both died in their 60s a few years apart, and both had cancer.
        They sought the best treatment possible and the cancer won.
        My mom always said, “What the cancer didn’t do, the chemo will finish it off.”
       In the years that followed, Mom would give me a call and update me on her cancer diagnosis following each checkup.
      It wasn’t until 2008 that the cancer started moving again. She’d developed gallstones and was in the hospital in Tulsa at the start of the year.
       I wasn’t until February of that year that doctors tried blasting the gallstones and that didn’t work. I believe doctors tried a second time and it worked.
       It was shortly after the gallstone episode that the cancer started spreading again. It quickly moved into her liver and then her bones. She underwent cyber knife surgery in November 2008 in Tulsa. The surgery is a non-invasive radiation treatment called stereotactic radiosurgery that uses a robotic arm to target cancerous tumors.
        The cancer quickly moved into her brain, thus the lump on her head.
       My folks didn’t let the cancer stop them. Mom, dad and my sister-in-law made the trek from Tulsa to Iowa and spent Thanksgiving that year with Debbie and me. My brother wasn’t able to come as he was hauling fright in an 18-wheeler.
       Family on Debbie’s side came and we had a great celebration. My folks went shopping and bought some new pants, a shirt and some shoes for my dad at the outlet mall in Williamsburg.
       In June 2009, we took Mom to Cancer Treatment Centers in Tulsa. They ran a few tests and said they might be able to help. She agreed to a couple rounds of low dose chemo. It’s didn’t help.
       My mom died on Sept. 27, 2009, one day after my 50th birthday. I’m thankful that she hung on that one extra day for me.
        I was not in Tulsa when she died, but had been there about a week earlier.
      I knew when I left that I wouldn’t see her alive again. That was the toughest part, but I needed to go home. I had been in Tulsa for a week. She was receiving the best care possible from my family and hospice.
      I had earlier written my mom a letter and thanked her for raising me right, taking me to church and teaching me the Good book.
       She was a hard worker and loved her family. She could be stubborn, but she always stood her ground and fought the good fight for what she believed in.
        It’s never easy to lose a parent, especially at 72-years of age.
      My dad died nine months later on July 10, 2010, mostly of a broken heart. He had had some issues with cancer, Dementia and Alzheimer’s as well.
       I made a trek to Oklahoma in the spring of 2010 to see my dad and start the process of cleaning out 52 plus years of life packed in every nook and cranny there was.
       My brother woke my dad up and he saw me and said, “It’s good to see you, son. I got a lot of stuff I want to do around here, but I need to take a nap.”
       He was moved to a hospice house in Tulsa on June 9 that year.
      I was in the room the next evening when he passed and I watched as Jesus himself came down and took him to heaven. That was a peaceful and an awe-inspiring experience.
      I wanted to share this story as I know there are people out there who are fighting battles with no end in sight. I’ve heard the stories and I’ve heard the good reports and the victories.
      Our youngest nephew had cancer two years ago and he is cancer free to this day. I was diagnosed with cancer in March 2025 and I’m cancer free to this day, too.
      Those who see this story, don’t be disheartened. Don’t give up. Keep fighting, keep praying, keep getting up every day and doing good for others.
      If something in your body doesn’t seem right, see your doctor or visit a specialist. Don’t wait until it’s too late.
       In my case, I was suffering from some severe stomach pains and at the urging of Debbie, decided to see a specialist. I’m so glad I did.
      My cancer was found early and it hadn’t broken through the wall of my colon. I had a great surgeon who took good care of me.
       I read a story some years ago about a woman in Houston, Texas who got cancer. Every day she got up, got dressed and went out and prayed for others who were sick. She was healed by faith and lived at least another 30 plus years.
       There is hope!
      Always remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

​        My dad grew up in the sticks east of Tulsa in what was referred to the Verdigris bottoms and the Oak Grove areas of Wagoner County.
      Verdigris was a 300-mile-long river and tributary to the Arkansas River that ran from Southeast Kansas through northeastern Oklahoma.
        My dad loved fishing on the Verdigris River and could sit in a lawn chair or on a five gallon bucket and fish until the cows came home.
        All he needed was a few worms and a bobber.
       I couldn’t do that and would spend the day tossing my bait in the water and reeling in my line and doing it again and again. Needless to say, I didn’t catch any fish and my dad would often catch a mess.
My dad loved to visit with the hardworking fine folks of the bottoms. On occasion, Dad and I would travel to the sticks and visit, including stopping at the Replogle place.
        I always thought that was the coolest name.
       I remember one Sunday afternoon when I was a youngster, my family took a trip to the sticks and stopped at a house where my dad grew up.
      The windows and doors were all gone and the house was nothing but a well-worn frame and a memory from years past. We all sat on the back porch and enjoyed a picnic lunch that my mom had prepared.
       It was at the house in the late 1940s that the Verdigris river got out of its banks, not once, but twice. It knocked down the cornstalks, but didn’t destroy the corn.
        My dad and his younger brother, Charley, hand-picked the 40-acres of corn and they sold it for enough money that my grandfather used it to buy a used Alias Chalmers tractor and harrow for $1,500 in nearby Broken Arrow.
          I have a set of horse harnesses that were my grandpas that he used during the WPA days to build roads in Oklahoma. I don’t have any documented history on the harnesses other than what my dad told me. I’ve considered donating the nearly 100-year-old harnesses to the Midwest Old Threshers Reunion, but haven’t followed through.
         A trip to the sticks also meant a visit to see Sonny and Ova Smith.
       We often enjoyed big family get-togethers on my dad’s side at the Smiths. Ova was quite a cook and there was always enough food to feed a dozen for a week.
      Sonny died some years ago, but Ova lived a good number of years in a comfortable ranch-style home that the couple built in the 1960s.
      And just down the road was the Oak Grove School where my dad attended through the eighth grade. He never finished high school. Some years later, the Smith’s boy, Mike, turned the school into a house and lived there for a while.
       Every time Dad and I visited the good folks in the sticks, I’d find a comfortable chair and quickly fall asleep. When dad was finished visiting, he’d would wake me up and off we’d go to the next place.
       One of those stops was the home of Nelda and the now late Archie Brown on old Highway 33. My dad grew up with Archie and enjoyed visiting with him and Nelda when visiting the area. The couple had two boys and I believe a daughter. They used to own a DX service station up the road from their home.
      It was one of those places where you could fill up your gas tank and your stomach with a deli sandwich, a bag of chips and a cold bottle of Pepsi from the cooler.
      My dad also had family living near Locust Grove, Okla., near the Boy Scout Camp that I attended from 1972-1976. Locust Grove is about 50-miles east of Tulsa.
      When in the Locust Grove area, a stop to see Fannie and Bowman Grimes was always on the agenda.
       The couple built a new house in the 1960s and there was no toilet. They still used the outhouse and water from the well to drink and do dishes when I was a kid. The couple had one son, Robert.
      When I was a youngster, probably age 7, I found an old antique wood burning stove iron in the barn and took it home. When my folks learned of the error of ways, they made me take it back and fess up to my sins. It didn’t bother Fannie and Bowman a bit.
      There was also Buck Grimes who lived down the road on Highway 82 between Locust Grove and Tahlequah. His daughter, Bernice, married my mom’s younger brother, Leon.
        Buck was as good as they come. His house was small, but was inviting and comfortable. And I can’t forget about Howard Hemphill, a friend of my dad’s. Howard lived in an old shack up the hill and behind Fannie and Bowman’s place. There were old vehicles and junk everywhere. He’d tinker around and build an old wagon and pull it behind a team of horses. I always enjoyed taking a spin in the wagon when we visited.
       In later years, Howard moved into an old mobile home in Rose, Okla., east of Locust Grove, where he oversaw a herd of cattle that my uncle Orval owned. Orval was my dad’s younger brother. Dad and I went to visit Howard one year when I was around age 12.
       As I was milling around outside, I discovered that I was covered in ticks. I said something to my dad and he stripped me down and poured alcohol over me. Later that day, I took a shower and it was brown well water fed. If the alcohol didn’t do it, I’m sure the brown well water finished them off.
       Howard went through vehicles like some people go through shoes. He drove the gravel roads fast.  He’d get to the top of a hill and shut the engine off and coast to the bottom and let out the clutch and start the engine again and off he’d go.
      What I remember the most is when you’d step into his home there on the chair or counter was his well-worn Bible.  
       I have lots of great memories from back in the day!
       Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

         I enjoyed the opportunity to judge 4-H photography at the Southern Iowa Fair in Oskaloosa on Saturday, July 13.
           This year for the first time Debbie came along with me as she had to drive. With my back surgery, I’m not yet getting behind the wheel.
            This is my 13th year to judge 4-H photography in the last 14 years.
            I started my 4-H photography judging experience in 2012 at the Southern Iowa Fair. I remember the experience well.
           I was shaking like a leaf on a tree during a wind storm and struggled to judge some photographs. In fact, on a few occasions, I had to ask for help from a couple other judges.
         What made it more intimidating is one judge, a studio photographer from Southern Iowa, showed up with a small table easel and a rule of thirds marker. I showed up with a love for photography and heart to try this new experience.
          I do remember one young 4-H’er who had photo she had taken from the back of a motorboat with a person skiing. It was terribly out of focus and I said that to her and she proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t out of focus. It was obvious that it was out of focus, but she continued to argue with me.
            Looking back, I should have given her a white ribbon, but I was new and trying my best. I ended up giving her a blue ribbon. I typically give 4-H’ers with out of focus photos a red ribbon.
         It was Kathy Lents, the former Poweshiek County Extension Director, who got me started as photography judge.
          I have since judged in Mahaska County (3 times), Keokuk County Expo (2 times), Washington County (3 times), Poweshiek County (2 times), Warren County (1 time), Marion County (1 time), Iowa County (2 times), Linn County (2 times and Benton County (2 times). I have also judged open class in Iowa County twice and Poweshiek County for about 10 years.
            I had a chance to judge in Polk County this year, but turned it down due to my back surgery and the travel time from Montezuma to Des Moines.
           In 2019, I judged 4-H photography at the Iowa State Fair. That was a great experience, but I’m not wanting to try that again as I enjoy talking with the 4-H’ers. Judges don’t get that opportunity at the ISF.
           The one area that I believe 4-H’ers need to work on is the write ups. Most need more detail other than, “I just wanted to take a great photo.”
           It was hot and it was a long day at the Southern Iowa Fair, but a good day. I met some wonderful 4-H’ers and saw some great work. I pulled 18 photos out and gave the 4-H’er a purple ribbon and the opportunity to be considered for the Iowa State Fair. Of those, four moved on to the ISF at the end of the day.
            Each county has a limit to how many 4-H photos can be submitted at the ISF. There is a 10 photo limit for the Southern Iowa Fair and the same 4-H’er can only have one photo. I believe each 4-H’er can send no more than two projects to the fair. For instance, a photo and a woodworking project.
Moving on
           And for the first time in 26 years, I did not cover the Poweshiek County Fair or take photos of a hog show, something I’ve done every year since moving here.
During that time, there were two years that I took a brief retirement from the news business (2016, 2017), but I still covered the Poweshiek County Fair hog show.
            I love photographing hogs, swine or pigs, whatever you want to call them.
           I remember one year, this young show person stood at the backdrop holding her banners while two fathers tried to corral the onery hog to get in-line. It took a while, but I got the photo.
The first year I photographed hogs was in 1998 at the Iowa County Fair. It was an afternoon show and for some reason, the powers that be decided to skip the photos at the end of each class and bring all the hogs back to the showring after dark for photos. That was a train wreck waiting to happen. 
           Those hogs were tired and it was late and they had no desire to have a photo taken at 9 p.m. So, the hog show organizers got one hog to stand still and I took about 10 photos of prize-winning 4-H’ers with their banners and the same hog.
           That was quite an experience for a new journalist and city boy. I’d never visited a hog house or watched a hog show at the state fair. My closest experience with hogs was eating pork chops and bacon.
            It was a tough decision not to cover the fair this year. With my back surgery, I’m not quite ready. I’m still using a walker outside and have to have some help from Debbie getting around.
I felt it was best to give my body more time to fully heal and come back strong next year.
         I’ve handled the change OK, but have missed being around the kids. To me, that is what the county fair is all about.
           4-H is a wonderful organization where kids learn and grow and I’m glad to be a small part of that in the lives of many Poweshiek County area youth and those who I have judged their photography in other counties.
          Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

         There are two places that I believe people these days don’t spend enough time sitting a spell and getting to know each other – the porch and the kitchen table.
           My mama had an old metal table with four chairs in the kitchen. We ate most of our suppers and meals at that table together as a family.
            The kitchen table provided lots of great memories as a kid.
            Experts say time spent at the kitchen table offers profound benefits. It serves as the literal heartbeat of the home where families gather to share meals, pray and build lasting relationships. I have to agree.
            It was at the table where I helped snap green beans as a kid from the garden or turn mom’s antique food grinder. It was an aluminum coned shaped device in a three-legged stand that was used to smash and drain tomatoes for canning.
            These days you can buy an electrical grinder that will do the same thing with less effort.
            My folks had a small garden in the backyard of our Tulsa home. They raised a few vegetables including cabbage, lettuce, onions, okra and tomatoes.
            My dad always enjoyed gathering a head of lettuce and some onions and my mom would make him a bowl of wilted lettuce using hot bacon grease. Of course, we had a grease can on the stove top.
           The grease was often used to season fried potatoes or okra. I remember once my mom used the grease to make homemade lye soap.
           In the late 1960s and early 70s, my folks and another family, the Schellhorns from the First Baptist Church, raised a huge garden together on a spot of land in East Tulsa.
            My dad would load his Montgomery Ward roto-tiller in the back of his 1967 Chevrolet truck and carry it to the garden and till the earth.
         They raised everything from watermelons to cantaloupes, tomatoes, okra, green beans, carrots, potatoes, corn, squash, beets, radishes, peas and every other kind of vegetable imaginable.
             I remember many summer days being in the kitchen and hearing the pressure cooker whistling away on the stove. There were two large pantry cabinets in our kitchen that were always stocked with canned goods.
            On Friday nights in the late 1970s, my dad and I would make the five or so mile trek to north Sheridan in Tulsa and stop at the Chuckwagon drive-in. The restaurant was shaped like a chuckwagon and featured drive in carhop and walk up service. It was there that we would order wheel burgers with the fixings and French fries and head home.
            We’d all sit around the table and eat supper while watching the  Dukes of Hazard and Dallas on a small television.
            It was also in the kitchen and living room that I got my backside spanked if I misbehaved. If I got in trouble in school, I was guaranteed a spanking when I got home. I admit, it hurt, but I’m thankful for every spanking I got as it kept me out of trouble.
            We also had a nice size dining room table with two extra leaves and chairs. We enjoyed many holiday meals at that table and it was also a gathering place for when company came over for lunch of Kentucky Fried Chicken after church on Sunday.
            We wrapped presents on that table and celebrated birthdays and I also did homework there. And in the winter months, we hung our coats on the chairs to dry.
            We had a nice size concrete front porch, but I don’t recall using it much as a youngster. However, we did have large concrete deck out back. My dad would fire up the Hasty-Bake charcoal grill and cook a chicken on the rotisserie or grill some hamburgers.
        We often had family stop and we’d all gather outside to visit and eat. And sometimes we’d have homemade ice cream.
            When we’d go fishing, we often brought our catch home and cleaned them on the back patio. My mom would cook the fish in the iron skillet along with a batch of fried potatoes. It’s hard to beat fresh crappie, catfish or bass with a side of potatoes.
            I remember another time when my dad was mowing neighborhood yards. It was getting late and my mom decided to fry a chicken. It must have been midnight before we ate, but what great memories I have.
             At our Iowa home, we don’t have a front porch, outside of a small concrete pad by the walkout garage door. We do have a nice deck in the back, but it faces west, northwest and gets too hot to sit outside on a summer evening.
            I’ve often dreamed of having a roof of some sort put over the deck.
Last year while going garage sale hunting in Mount Pleasant during the Midwest Old Threshers, we bought two new in-the-box white rocking chairs like they have at the Cracker Barrel Restaurant, only these were from Wal-Mart.
            I still haven’t put them together, but once I do, it will be a nice addition to our deck. I’m going to have to spend mornings on the deck instead of afternoons.
            Life can get busy these days as there is always something that needs to be done. I encourage you to find time to spend with family and friends on the porch or at the kitchen table. It’s time well spent!
            Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

          I experienced the Montezuma Let Freedom Ring Parade from a different vantage point this year – a lawn chair.
         I typically enjoy walking among the floats as they roll along Main Street while taking photos of the crowd, capturing the kids gathering candy and other fun activities.
            Having had back surgery and using a walker outdoors, I was a bit limited this year and found solace at the southwest corner of Main and Third streets.
            I had to deal with the sun and crowds that quickly gathered in front of me, making it nearly impossible to see the floats and take photos.
           I understand, kids and families all get excited about filling their bags with candy and are not always aware of those around them.
              It’s a lesson we can all learn from.
               I still was able to take a few good photos and enjoyed taking in the sunny weather.
         I met a family that was visiting our fine city that recognized Debbie and me as the authors and publishers of our “Family Reunion: Midwest Old Threshers” book.
              The lady talking with me said I took a photo of her son.
              “You took his photo and it’s in the book,” she said. “He was 7 then.”
            That would have been in 2007, so that makes him around 26 or so. He said this year his family will have camped at the Old Threshers for 27 years.
              This year will mark our 18th year to camp at the Midwest Old Threshers Reunion. It would have been year 19 had Covid not halted the reunion in 2020.
            Anyway, there was nice crowd and a variety of floats during Saturday’s parade. It was a nice move on the Montezuma Community Development to honor our local veterans as the parade grand marshals. It was also good to see my dear friend, Ron Hensel, aka Ron the Barber, in the parade. He was seated in his wife, Bea’s, Ford Mustang as they rolled along the parade route.
            Ron had a stroke in March last year and his health had declined rapidly. And most recently, he was diagnosed with ALS. It led to him retiring in early June after 60 years as a barber in Indianola, Des Moines and Montezuma.
            He opened Ron’s Barber Shop on the Montezuma Square in September 2008 and cut my hair more times than I can count. I’ve probably lost a lot more hair than I got haircuts.
            I always enjoyed stopping at the barbershop and chatting with Ron and meeting some of the many savory locals who stopped to shoot the bull, talk politics and gossip a bit.
            Ron, the former commander of the legion who led the charge to build a new legion hall, has always been a defender of all veterans. For years, he’s hosted Memorial Day services and was Johnny on the spot in bringing the Freedom Rock to Montezuma 10 years ago.
            And Bea has been the leader of the American Legion Auxiliary. 
           What a blessing he has been to the Montezuma Community. Thank you Ron and Bea for your service to the United States and to Montezuma.
           This year’s celebration included pie eating and greased pig contests. SUDS foam spray was on hand as a sprinkler was set up for the kids to enjoy.
            There was a dunk tank, bouncy houses, lots of good food, including the annual Lions Club Chicken BBQ feast, and much more.
Moving on
            I always looked forward to the Fourth of July as a kid.
            My dad would stop at OK Fireworks in west Tulsa near where he worked at a factory and pick up one of the advertised special fireworks box filled with Roman candles, firecrackers, bottle rockets, sparklers and more.
           It didn’t take me long to go through the box of firework goodies. My favorites were Black Cats and bottle rockets.
          A box of firework explosives cost around $12 or so in the 1970s. That’s a far cry from what it costs today. 
       I was a bit onery as a youngster and enjoyed blowing up ant hills and also catching and tying grasshoppers to bottle rockets and shooting them off.
          My friends and I would find a pop bottle and shoot so many bottle rockets that it turned the bottle black.
         I don’t shoot off fireworks these days. One of these years I’m going to try and photograph people shooting off fireworks. I’ve never done that.
          A few year ago I ventured down on the Lake Ponderosa Causeway to take photos of the pyrotechnicians getting ready for the evening show.
            That was kind of scary as the fireworks, which looked like bowling balls on a rope, were placed by hand in PVC pipes housed in a wooden frame.
            The wicks were then secured to electronic cables to allow the pyrotechnician to fire them off from a computer relay located nearby on the causeway.
              It’s an interesting process to watch a fireworks show unfold.
            Some years ago, I attended a Civil War re-enactment at the Poweshiek County Fairgrounds. The event was run by one of the local Civil War groups in the county and area and was designed to teach students in fifth grade hands-on history, including patching up a wounded soldier from the battlefield.
              These fellows, who are all re-enactors, would bring a real cannon and fire that thing off for the kids.
          I did have some luck photographing the blasting of the cannon. The key in getting a good photo is timing and keeping your ears plugged.
            Now that I’m getting older, I find myself plugging my ears during the Fourth of July parade from all the fire trucks, police vehicles and ambulances blowing their sirens.
            With several sirens going off at the same time, it can be deafening. 
            I hope you had a great Fourth of July and were able to cookout and spend time with family and friends.
          The best part of it all is the opportunity to thank God for his many blessings as we celebrate this nation’s 250th birthday.
            Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

          I enjoy photography and history and when I recently learned about an exhibit called “Faces of the Mother Road: The Lost Portraits of S.J. Tyler,” I had to know more.
               I started researching and learning more about the photography display. 
            It had all came about in 2023 when author and photographer, Adam Forgash, discovered a series of several thousand antique glass photo negatives in a flea market in Manhattan, New York.
Eight months later, while browsing through thousands of anonymous glass photo negatives, Forgash discovered an envelope tucked away between two of the glass negatives advertising Sydney Joseph Tyler’s Photography Studio in Afton, Okla.
            Afton is located in far northeast Oklahoma near Joplin, Mo.
       Forgash reached out to The University of Tulsa’s Mary F. Barnard Professor of Nineteenth-Century American History Kristen Oertel.
         “He just emailed me out of the blue and said, ‘I found these glass negatives at this flea market and I thought they were really beautiful, so I bought them,’” recalled Oertel. “‘Do you think they’re as significant as I think they might be?’”
           Forgash sent the first batch of photographs to Oertel, who noted that they appeared to be taken in the 1920s and 30s.
          “What struck me was how many different kinds of people were represented by the photographs,” she said. “I think we have this impression of early 20th-century photography being of only middle - and upper - class white families who had the money to sit for a photography session. Tyler seems to have gone out of his way to capture every kind of person who was traveling and living along Route 66.”
          In doing research, Forgash discovered that Tyler had a diverse clientele, including Black, Asian, Latino, Indigenous and mixed families. At the time, Afton was a hub of activity, and the surrounding regions brought a lot of tourism to the town.
          In the 1920s, Afton served as a prominent Frisco division point and shipping center. While in the 1930s, the town saw a decline in agricultural jobs, benefiting from Route 66 (Main Street) which spurred commerce.     Today, the economy is more tourist-supported with the creation of Grand Lake of the Cherokees in 1940.
        For three decades, Tyler’s portraits were taken on fragile glass plates, then forgotten for nearly a century. The images are more than photographs – they are a time capsule of early America.
       Tyler moved from Pennsylvania to Afton in 1912 and bought a studio owned by R. A. Younger. He lived and worked there from 1913 to 1949. Tyler’s wife, Nettie, worked at the Afton Eagle as the society page editor. The couple later moved back to Pennsylvania.
     Tyler’s studio was located on what would eventually become part of America’s famous Route 66, undoubtedly contributing to his wide range of clients.
         Route 66 opened in 1926.
       “Although the photo studio was in Afton, this is really a story about the travelers of the Mother Road,” said Forgash. “Most of the photographer’s subjects were everyday travelers passing through the region, making this collection a unique and unseen glimpse into the history of Route 66, northeast Oklahoma, and the people and cultures that shaped the region.”
        In a partnership with the Route 66 Alliance, and author/historian Michael Wallis, “Faces of the Mother Road: The Lost Portraits of S.J. Tyler” exhibit opened at the University of Tulsa in January 2026 and was on display for two months. Since that time, Forgash has been reaching out to museums along Route 66 in hopes of displaying the exhibit elsewhere.
        Forgash, who has been buying, selling and collecting antique photographs and photographic equipment for 30 years, said it’s been tough going trying to find museums to accept the display.
        “I want to get the photo display out of there because it is important,” he said.
         It appears that the main issue is funding.
        “I’m paying for this out of my pocket,” Forgash said in an telephone interview.
        Forgash does have a show booked in New Mexico in the near future and he and an author from Tulsa are working on a book project of the glass negative antique photos. There is no timeline on the book.
        The photos and portraits I’ve seen on Facebook and the Internet are just beautiful. I hope Forgash can get the funding he needs to showcase the exhibit.
         It would be worth a trip to Oklahoma or Missouri to see the photos.
        For more information on the earlier exhibit in Tulsa and the Faces of the Mother Road visit the project’s website at: www.facesofthemotherroad.com.
         If you would like to donate to this project, please contact Forgash through the website.
         Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

        While scrolling through Facebook the other day, I was surprised to learn that the female lioness sleeps approximately 15 -18 hours a day. And the male lion sleeps an average of 18 - 20 hours a day. They do that to renew their strength and conserve energy for intense, explosive burst of activity like hunting prey or defending their territory. The lion and lioness are some of the strongest and fastest animals in the jungle. 
         When it comes to sleep, I am glad to be in good company. 
          I, too, enjoy taking long naps. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.
          I only remember once sleeping more than 20 hours.
        It was a hot July day in my hometown of Tulsa. I had decided to mow the front yard. After making several laps, I got hot and overcome by the heat.
         I shut the push mower off and headed into the house to cool off.
          I found the comfort of the living room chair next to the window AC, which I called my prayer chair. I often sat in that chair and read my Bible and prayed.
          Anyway, I fell into a deep sleep and woke up around 10 p.m. at which time I moved to my bedroom and fell back asleep.
         I woke up at 4 a.m. and decided to get dressed and make a stop at the local Quick Trip convenience store a few blocks from my boyhood home.
          I drank a bottle of Pepsi and played a few rounds of pinball before returning home, where I quickly fell back asleep.
           I didn’t wake up until 2 p.m. that day.
           Either the heat got to me or I was really tired.
        Another time, in early December 1975, a rare winter tornado struck Tulsa. I was throwing newspapers with my mom in the morning, so most days after school I would come home, lay on the couch and take a nap. During this particular storm, the sirens went off. I was so asleep that I never heard them. I’m glad my angels were watching over me.
         Not too long ago, Debbie and I were talking to someone we met. We got on the subject of sleeping and this lady informed me that I should never take more than a 20 minute nap. Most of my naps are about two or so hours.
         My dad worked at a factory and everyday he would come into the house and lay down on the hard living room floor and take a 20-minute catnap.
          He’d grab a sofa pillow to lay under his head.
       Then he’d get up and out the door he’d go to mow yards in the our neighborhood. I guess the naps helped.
          That reminds me of the many mornings that I got up with my mom to throw the Tulsa World newspaper at 4:30 a.m. and later the Tulsa Tribune (evening) newspaper.
         It was a family enterprise with my brother pitching in and my dad helping on Sundays. Then we were off to church.
       Our church, First Baptist, in downtown Tulsa shared television rights with three other churches in the 1970s. The services were aired on a local television station. Each church shared the cameras and gear for three months at a time.
         I liked hanging around in the audio visual room with my friend Rob. I asked Mr. Ed, as we called him, if I could operate one of the cameras.
         Mr. Ed was the sound booth director.
     One Sunday morning during the sermon while I operated the television camera, I fell asleep. I had headphones on, but was so out of it, that I couldn’t hear Mr. Ed calling my name.
         He finally gave up on me and let me sleep.
         My time behind the camera came to an end after that ordeal.
       However, I still got to help Mr. Ed take down the microphones after the service and turn all the equipment off.
        And some Sunday mornings I hung around the janitor and maintenance crew in the basement. My dad liked to stop before the sermon and visit with the fellows. I would join my dad and sometimes I would hang around through the church service.
         I could hear the preacher over the sound system, so I got to hang out and hear God’s word at the same time.
         There was a mother and her son who used to clean the church. On some Sundays, the young fellow and I would slip out of the church and listen to rock and roll music in our cars.
          That was probably not approved behavior in my mom’s rule book, but it made for fun memories.
          Anyway, I’m getting a little tired. I think it’s time for a nap.
          I need to gather my strength for the next day’s activities.
          Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

        Being retired from my day job and also healing from recent back surgery, I have had some extra time on my hands of late.
         That has led to me enjoying watching videos mostly on Facebook and some TikTok.
       In May, I came across a video produced by Fenceline Equipment in Onawa in western Iowa between Omaha and Sioux City.
          The business is owned by Ty Smith, 16, and his brother, Clay Smith, 12, who started it a few years ago as a way to make extra cash.
          “The boys started buying old broken down lawnmowers and fixing them up and selling them,” said their dad, Jason Smith. “They then started buying old tractors and fixing those up.”
         Jason is an auctioneer and owner of DreamDirt Farm Real Estate and Auction, also in Onawa with satellite locations in West Des Moines, Storm Lake, Dubuque and Mason City.
            Jason said all of his family has a strong interest in history.
        “Our interest lies in farm Implements, farm power and industrial power such as trains and machine shops,” he said.
         The family also attends the Midwest Old Threshers and the boys volunteer on the train in Mount Pleasant and at the train museum in Sioux City.
               Last fall Jason was working with a family near Denison to hold an auction.
               That is when he came across an old Gilson Hit and Miss engine.
           “I saw it out setting in the woods while walking the property line,” said Jason. “It was scrap to the family and I offered to buy it.”
           The family used the engine to power their sawmill and later used it on a feed grinder. They parked in in the barn in 1945 and 10 years later in 1955, they needed more room in the barn, so the Gilson was moved outside. It had been sitting there ever since.
            The family agreed to sell it and then winter hit before Jason could return and pick up the old engine.
“We had to wait until spring to pick it up,” he said. “We brought it home on May 15.”
           Jason said he posted a few pictures on Facebook of the Gilson and it drew the interest of folks from all over the world. People were commenting on the posts and video and sending emails.
         “We had 16,000 followers on our Facebook page and a month later we had 80,000 followers,” said Jason.
After digging into the Gilson, the trio quickly discovered that it had a broken exhaust valve push rod and the piston was stuck in the cylinder – really stuck.
         Over the course of the next month, Jason and his two boys tried everything under the sun to get the piston unstuck.
            They made and posted video and sought the advice of others.
They used compressed air and about every type of lubricate known to man. They also used hammers, heat and dry ice, all to no avail.
           After creating a homemade bracket that mounted on top the piston cylinder and using a 10-ton press to apply pressure, the piston gave up the ghost and the trio was able to remove it from the engine cylinder on June 14, one month after bringing it home.
            According to Jason, the Gilson is a Style D model made around 1909.
            Gilson collectors refer to it as an early Gilson. Jason said that style was offered for about two years.
          The engines were produced by Gilson Manufacturing Company in Port Washington, Wisc. and Guelph, Ontario.
         Hit and miss engines regulate their speed by literally “missing” power cycles.” When the engine is running too fast, a mechanical governor locks the exhaust valve open. Because the valve stays open, there is no suction to draw in fuel, and the engine simply coasts without firing. When the speed drops below the set limit, the valve closes, the engine “hits” (fires) and the cycle continues.
            When asked, Jason said he and his two boys plan to rebuild the engine, a project he said will take three – six months.
         “That thing will run again,” said Jason. “We got some issues ahead. The exhaust push rod will need repaired and a new exhaust valve will have to be made.”
             I love sharing stories about old farm equipment. Having grown up in the big city, I knew nothing about farm equipment and steam and old hit and miss engines.
            It’s fun to learn along the way and maybe someday I will have my own hit and miss engine.
           Jason said to keep an eye on Facebook and follow along on the journey to bring the old Gilson back to life.
            One of my next goals is to make a trip to Owana and see the Gilson and meet the family.
            Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.

        I had just completed my junior year in high school when one of Oklahoma’s still unsolved murders of three Girl Scouts at Camp Scott near Locust Grove, Oklahoma took place. Someone raped and murdered three Tulsa area Girl Scouts on their first night at camp on Sunday, June 12, 1977. 
         The bodies of Lori Lee Farmer, age 8; Michele Heather Guse, age 9, and Doris Denise Milner, age 10, were found by a camp counselor on a trail leading to the campsite’s showers about 150 yards from their tent. They were all stuffed in sleeping bags. They had been sharing Tent #7 in the camp’s “Kiowa” Unit, which was located the farthest from the camp counselor’s tent.  
         At around 6 a.m. on June 13th, a camp counselor on her way to the shower saw a girl’s body in her sleeping bag in a wooded area just outside of the tent area. It was then discovered that all three girls from Tent #7 were missing. As counselors began searching, they discovered that all three girls had been murdered. Two bodies were inside a sleeping bag, crumpled toward the bottom of the bag. And one body was visible on the outside.
         Subsequent testing showed that they had been bludgeoned and strangled. All three girls had been raped.
          A large red flashlight was found on top of the girls’ bodies. A smudged fingerprint was found on the lens, but it has never been identified as it was too smudged for a positive identification. A footprint from a 9.5 size shoe was also found in the blood in the tent.
           The case was classified as solved when Gene Leroy Hart, a local jail escape with a history of violence and rape, was arrested. It took 10 months to find Hart after the murders when he was discovered living with a medicine man.
            Hart had been at large since 1973 after escaping from the Mayes County Jail. He had been convicted of kidnapping and raping two pregnant women as well as four counts of 1st degree burglary. Hart was raised about a mile from Camp Scout. Hart was a member of the Cherokee Nation.
         Hart was tried in 1979. Although the local sheriff pronounced himself “1000 percent” certain that Hart was guilty, a local jury acquitted him. 
         As a convicted rapist and jail escapee, Hart still had 305 years of his 308-year sentence left to serve in the Oklahoma State Penitentiary.  
          On June 4, 1979, two years after the murders, Hart collapsed and died of a heart attack at the age of 35, after about an hour of lifting weights and jogging in the prison yard. 
          Following the murders, Camp Scout, which opened in 1928, was closed and is no longer used today. 
In recent years, there has been efforts to do DNA testing on evidence found at the crime scene, but no new evidence has been found.
          After Hart was acquitted, no one else has ever been convicted of the crimes. 
         I attended Camp Garland, a Boy Scout camp about five miles north of Camp Scott, from 1972 to 1976.   So, when the murders took place, it really hit home.
          In addition, my dad had family members who lived near both camps. 
        In the years since, there has been a number of books written about the murders including Shattered Justice: The Oklahoma Girl Scout Murders by J.D. Morrison; The Camp Scout Murders: The 1977 Murders by C.S. Kelly; The Usual Suspect by Gary Pitchlynn; Tent Number Eight: An Investigation of the Girl Scout Murders and the Trial of Gene Leroy Hart by Cloyd McCoy; Someone Cry for the Children: The Unsolved Girl Scout Murders of Oklahoma by Michael Wilkerson and The Girl Scout Murders: A True Story of Violent Death and Indian Justice by Charles W. Sasser.
         In addition to the books, there have been several documentary television shows made and aired. The latest, Keeper of the Ashes, aired on ABC/Hulu in 2022.
          In 2011, an ex-con named John Russell Penn was working on an indie film, Candles, and stated that he would reveal the perpetrator of the Girl Scout murders in the film. Penn, who was previously convicted of check fraud, claimed that the true killer admitted to the murders in a drunken stupor one night in 1978 while both men were detained in an Ottawa County jail cell. I don’t believe that film was ever finished.
          There is much more information about the case and investigation if you are interested in learning more. There is a website, Abandoned OK, that features photos and the history of Camp Scott. Another website to check out is girlscoutmurders.com. 
         There are many people, especially those in the Locust Grove area, who knew Hart and still believe to this day that he was not guilty. There are others who are convinced he is guilty. And after 49 years, the case still remains unsolved and there is still no justice for these three girls who lost their lives way too soon.      

        Route 66 was one of the stars of the day in my hometown of Tulsa, Okla.
In celebration of the 100th anniversary of Route 66, community leaders in Tulsa spearheaded the Capital Cruise on Saturday, May 30, breaking a Guinness World Record for the longest car parade with 3,596 vintage and historic vehicles.
        The record was previously held by Puerto Rico who in 2017 held a parade with 2,491 vehicles.
The event drew an estimated 100,000 spectators that lined the 5.5 mile route along the famous highway (11th Street) in Tulsa.
       According to news on the event from Tulsa, organizers said more than 5,000 vehicles registered for the event, with participants traveling from 42 states, Canada and France to take part in the record-setting parade.
        Apparently there were some traffic issues and not everyone was able to partake in the event. According to one Tulsa television station, there were some participants who were turned away at the gate due to bottlenecks and traffic jams on the routes leading to Expo Square (Tulsa State Fairgrounds) where the cars were staged.
        There were a lot of negative comments about the logistics of event on social media. Some folks were quite upset. Many car owners sat in their cars from two – four hours waiting to get into the fairgrounds. I’m sure If I drove a vehicle to Tulsa and was turned away, I’d be upset, too. I don’t know if anyone will have satisfying answer as to what happened.
          Derek Bieri, owner of Vice Grip Garage, a vehicle rescue business in Lewisburg, Tenn., and a member of the parade grand marshals, apologized to those who traveled to Tulsa and were unable to participate in the event.
       “I am deeply saddened, completely gutted, and ultimately embarrassed that thousands of you were denied the opportunity to participate in the world-record parade run and were turned away at the gate,” noted Bieri in a social media post.
        Other parade marshals included Tulsa Mayor Monroe Nichols, Route 66 historian and author Michael Wallis, Oklahoma Lt. Gov. Matt Pinnell and family members of Route 66 founder Cyrus Avery.
         Avery (Aug. 31, 1871 – July 2, 1963) was a businessperson, oilman, and highway commissioner who is noted for creating Route 66 as a member of the federal board appointed to create the Federal Highway System. He then pushed for the establishment of the U.S. Highway 66 Association.
        The lead vehicle in the event was a 1929 Tulsa Police Model A named “Justice.” The vehicle was completely burned and totaled in a massive shop fire in December 2025.
          Despite the setback, Tulsa Police Officers Charles and Samantha Ramsey bought the vehicle back from salvage and worked day and night for three months to rebuild it in time for the parade.
         “Their hard work paid off, and the fully restored “Justice” successfully lead the pack of cars in the parade” noted parade officials.
           Other vehicles  included the “Herbie Love Bug 53,” “Ghostbusters,” the “1966 Batmobile,” Jurassic Park,” and a replica of the “Back to the Future” car.
The final car in cruise was an authentic, Route 66-era 1937 Oklahoma Highway Patrol vehicle.
The Admiral Twin
          The Admiral Twin is a historic twin drive-in movie theater in Tulsa that celebrated 75-years with a double feature of “The Outsiders” and “Cool Hand Luke” on Friday, May 29.
             The “Outsiders” was a movie made from a book with the same name by Tulsa author S.E. Hinton, who attended my high school, Will Rogers. I’ve never met Hinton as she’s about 15-years older than me. I have reached out to her for an interview without success.
            Writing about the Admiral Twin reminds me of a story I heard from Iowa City author Larry Baker. Baker was a guest speaker at the 2015 All-Iowa Writers’ Conference held in Montezuma.
            In the late 1960s, Baker lived in Tulsa and was the manager of the Admiral Twin. He shared a story about the time that a dead body was discovered in the women’s restroom after a movie goer complained of a smell in the toilet.
            Baker wrote about the incident in his book, “Flamingo Rising,” which fictionalizes a true event as the Admiral Twin is never mentioned.            
            After consoling with his family, who helped run the drive-in, Baker wrote that it was decided to wait until everyone had cleared out before moving the body from the women’s restroom to her vehicle, a 1968 Ford station wagon, dark blue with fake wood siding. The dealer tags were still on the vehicle’s window.
           “If the police are called with this woman on the toilet, she has died on our property,” Baker wrote in his book and noted in sharing his story. “If they are to investigate a dead woman sitting in her car, then she has died on her own property.”
           Several hours had passed from her discovery and rigor had set in until family helped move the body. 
        “She will be stiff, but she will be stiff in the sitting position. Makes it easier to slide her back under the wheel,” Baker went on to write.
         The book goes on to share about how the family successfully moved the dead woman to her car and then called the police to investigate.
          “Logic was not my strong suit,” Baker wrote when I reached out to him about the event. “I rationalized it by thinking that I was doing her a favor, so that her family’s memory of her death would not become a bad joke (dying on toilet, etc.).”
           I guess there are stranger things in life.
The Blue Whale
           A couple months ago I wrote about the Blue Whale on Route 66 near Catoosa, northeast of Tulsa.
          On the afternoon of May 30, a groundbreaking on a $2 million upgrade to the iconic Route 66 roadside attraction was held, which included construction of a new visitor’s center, new neon signage, expanded parking and updated restrooms.
      There’s lots going on in the Tulsa area and all along Route 66 in celebration of the highway’s 100thbirthday.
          Next time Debbie and I are in the Tulsa area, we plan to stop and check out the new updates and maybe pick up a new T-shirt of the Blue Whale.
          Remember that Good Things are Happening, every day and always.