Route 66 with my Boy

I had the opportunity recently to take a roadtrip with my ten-year-old son, Grayson.  It wasn't a long roadtrip:  just four hours.  (My son is taking a couple of seriously long trips later this summer with his dad, whose family is from El Paso, TX, where they will be journeying together.)  We went to northwest Arkansas for just a day and a half.

I wanted to make the trip fun for us, so at the beginning, we started out on historic Route 66.  Oklahoma has the longest unbroken stretch of "The Mother Road" in the country, and it's still peppered with a few nostalgic landmarks.  I wanted him to get an essential Oklahoma experience out of the trip, because being from Oklahoma is a big part of who I am... and of who he is, as well.

"Okies" on Route 66, heading West.

Most people have never been to Oklahoma, and their entire concept of the state begins and ends with the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical of the same name, and/or The Grapes of Wrath.  Those people are very hard to convince that they don't know Jack Shit about Oklahoma.  Mostly because they don't really want to know. It's easier to just feel smug and superior and sneer at us Okies. 




A still pool in the Wichitas.

Oklahomans aren't all that proud.  I don't mean that we don't take pride in our state, I mean that we're not the least bit snotty about it.  You can be snotty about your state (well, you shouldn't be, but you can be) when you're from some glitzy place like California, or if you live in some hotspot of culture like New York City.  But nobody buys it if you're snotty about Oklahoma. Oklahoma is one of those places that most people think of as being somewhere you are from:  as in... you're not there anymore.  But those who know the state – who have lived here or taken the time to get to know us – understand what a good place it is. 

Oklahoma is like the still, certain core of being for me. It's unassuming, diverse, complex, humble, sweeping, humorous, beautiful and true.  It takes a time to get to know her, but she's full of quirks, kindnesses, and comforts.  She's got a big heart, and just wants people to love her.

A stop at Pops

So we hit the Mother Road, and I explained to Grayson why Route 66 was an important piece of American history.  I was afraid it would be hard to explain to a kid who grew up in the age of cell phones and wireless internet how a long strip of asphalt could hold value.  But he seemed to get it.  I think the movie Cars helped.

We made a few stops along the way, to see some of the classic Route 66 landmarks.  We stopped at Pops just outside of Edmond and picked up some funky sodas. We saw the round barn at Arcadia. And best of all, we stopped at the Blue Whale in Catoosa.



Catoosa's Blue Whale. Well loved.  



The whale isn't as old as you might think. It was build in the early 70s, not the 50s. But it has all kinds of nostalgic charm. The homely, rural swimming hole setting, the brightly colored concrete picnic tables and hand-painted signs all say "simpler times."  I shot this photo of G to mimic a photo of me shot in the same place in 1971 or 72, when I was just five or six and the whale was new. I don't really remember the trip, or if I do, it's very hazy.  But I knew my parents would remember the photo, so I made them a new one. 





Grayson seemed to like the whale, though he said it really needed some repairs. And as we left he looked over his shoulder and said he felt bad for the whale, because there was nobody but us there to see it.  I looked back at its big smiling blue face. That whale has been a cultural icon for Oklahoma for nearly 40 years. It has fans all over the world.  It may well be smiling still when I'm dead and gone.  "It knows its loved," I said.