As I can't think of anything else to blog about, I'm going to do what I always do in this situation: steal from someone else.
You might have read before kc's excellent post about her front porch. You can call it an allegory for everyday life in east Lawrence.
Now, I have to settle for my mom's porch.
As you can see, it's quite large (That's me helping paint the columns). There's plenty of space, and could fit all sorts of outdoor furniture for plenty of people. It was also one of my favorite playspaces growing up. The walkway that ran adjacent to it was my highway for my toy cars, and when it reached the door the path turned left down an incline toward the street; at that point gravity would sent the cars to the street without my help.Now that I'm back on Sherwood Drive, I've taken to the porch once again. But it's not the same. Really, it's kc's fault. When I visit her in Lawrence we pass the time with a beer or brandy discussing parliamentary procedures. For one, as you can tell the view of the neighbor's back fence doesn't exactly add any charm to the street, and since it's late at night, I'm all alone on the porch. And no cackling girl stuffing her face with sweetrolls, asking whether we have cigarettes or how much the place next door rents for and she's going to drop off some old bread to the homeless shelter down the street, and say it all in one sentence. No eccentric Ed, nor Eddie the dog, faithfully waiting on his porch for his owner to return.
But I do always get one visitor, almost without fail: a gray cat. The kitty never comes over, just sits and watches me, almost accusingly. I think it wonders what the hell I'm doing back in the neighborhood -- I don't belong here anymore.
No, this hasn't been my neighborhood for a while now; the house no longer feels like home. Life as an Okie suburban cowboy isn't for me anymore, no matter how much I thought it was.
But still, it's good to visit the place. And as boring as the neighborhood is, I'd miss it if it were gone. Which it almost was after May 3, 1999, when tornados tore across Moore, and then again in 2003, after this happened:
So the neighborhood rebuilt its homes; I'm getting ready to rebuild my career. Maybe after that, I can work on finding my place to call home.
And you'll be invited to come sit with me on my porch anytime.
19 comments:
Hell, George, just move in with me. I could use a porch-sitting drinking buddy.
Did you take those pictures of the tornado damage? They're amazing. How is it that your family wasn't hurt?
I lived in Tulsa at the time of the later tornado. I remember sitting in the laundry room of my apartment building (semi-underground) with a bunch of my neighbors, and one dude risked the storm to go fetch a bottle of red wine from his room. Idiot. Or saint.
There was little damage in Tulsa, but I was shocked to learn that dozens of people had been killed in OKC. My sister was at some event with her family, where they had storm shelter, but when they went outside the parking lot was like a war zone, cars topsy-turvy everywhere and a dead horse — where did that come from?! — on one of the cars.
Don't tempt me, kc -- you'll find me sleeping on your porch in the morning. Especially the way my mom has been lately. (I thought about blogging about her, but it would just be too sad.)
The pictures, of the '99 damage, are from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Web site. The photos of Highland Park are my neighborhood. If we had been four houses to the north, our place would have taken a lot more damage; six houses up and it would be gone (and possibly one of my sisters, too; my mom was living in Florida at the time). In 2003, about a block south would have demolished the house.
In '99, I was in the basement of the art building at OU when the storms came through. I wasn't hiding -- it was a screening of Film I projects. We had no idea what happened. In 2003 we had plenty of warning, so my mom and I had dinner in Norman to avoid the storms, then weren't allowed back in the neighborhood because of the gas leaks.
Also, I want to see more kid pictures! (what's on your head?)
I think it's a white T-shirt of my dad's that my mom wrapped around my head to protect my hair. I guess being Asian it was a novelty to her that it got curly as it got longer. As the story goes, my dad finally got fed up with me looking like a girl that he stole me away and got me a haircut, which really upset her.
And let me just say that if any kid pictures of me are circulated around the Tulsa World newsroom, the paper will be looking for a new slot editor.
Aagghh!!
Erin stole my response.
Oh. My. God. You were little Lord Fauntleroy.
You should grow it out again.
Was there never anything on that porch? If not furniture, then potted plants? What direction does it face?
Any reservations I had about showing that picture left when I realized, looking through the photo albums, that my hair had never looked better. The worst was the mullet I had in 10th grade, whiich is proof, Ben, that I should not grow my hair out -- it wouldn't curl like that again.
DW, the front porch faces south. When I was small it never had anything on it, maybe because it was my playspace. I could ride my trike on it or play with toys, and my mom could watch me from the kitchen or dining room. Now, we have two sets of patio furniture, one on the back porch, but the other is in the garage -- the only place my sister is allowed to smoke.
Glad you're home, G!
George! How dare you accuse me! (Not to mention threaten me!) If I want to post embarrassing photos of you around the newsroom, I'm not likely to use the ones of you as a tot when you were -- dare I say it? -- adorable. I have a few from college that just might qualify, though. :) Besides, haven't you seen the ones of me floating around here in which I have hair nearly as big as Wynona Judd's?
Embarrassing photos of me from college? I have no idea what they might be, though if you do have any, I think I'd rather not know about them.
Damn you, George, where's that post you promised? Was there some must-see special report on the Playboy Channel that kept you from writing?
Well, as my current crib has some interesting amenities, as you mentioned, one of them is wireless Internet.
However, it was down last night. So I wrote half the post in Word, then watched "Ghost World" (You were right: great movie).
But don't worry, the Playboy Channel won't keep me from having it up shortly.
Whoops! I mean, it'll be up in a timely manner! It's not short, really-
Dammit ... I hate Freud.
Whatever, dude. You love Freud.
Anyway, you liked 'Ghost World'? How did you feel about the ending? (Have you read the comic it's based on?)
I always think of Illeana Douglas when I think of that movie.
I loved the ending. How many times have I wanted to do the same thing? (And I can think of a couple when I really should have.) I haven't read the comic. I might see if I can find a copy on the 'Net somewhere.
Illeana Douglas was great -- her scenes were more what I was expecting from "Art School Confidential." They also reminded me a bit of "Six Feet Under."
Love Freud?! Well, maybe if he were my mother ...
(A psychology joke, for those of you who might be creeped out right now)
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