Senseless Ramblings

The Hiraeth Series

As is my pattern, I left Santa Rosa at dawn. This stretch of Route 66 should be called El Conejo (el cone-ay-hoe) Road, as I have never seen so many jackrabbits in my life. They are everywhere. Maybe it is a morning thing with rabbits, I don’t know, but it was enough to make sure I kept my eyes open for the little beasts.

This is a long, lonely stretch across the eastern New Mexico plain, but my old friend the railroad still powers along beside me. He and I are becoming regular roommates on this trip. The sun is still low in the sky as I roll into Tucumcari, NM. Tucumcari has a magical ring to me, but magic is not what I felt as I entered town. In few places did the effects of the interstate highway seem more clear to me. Still a fairly good sized town of around 2,000 people, more than half of the motels and cafes as I entered town were boarded up. Only downtown Tucumcari itself seems to have at least made a little bit of a go at surviving and carrying on its legacy of a Route 66 stop.

Somewhere near the New Mexico/Texas border, even my old friend the railroad takes its leave. I guess even it has had enough of these senseless ramblings.

Outside the town of Britten TX, I was quick to notice something that is a bit of a draw on Old 66. It is a water tower, but what sets this one apart is that it is leaning heavily to one side. The painting on the tower says Britten, USA. I was definitely curious to this story, so I decided while I was stopped for the photo I would research the towers story.

It goes like this. Many years ago, a neighboring town was getting a new water tower and needed to get rid of the old. A gentleman who owned a café and motel on Route 66 in Britten purchased the tower and intentionally had it placed leaning to draw in tourists and travelers. Well, the motel and café burned down in the 1980’s, but the leaning Tower of Britten still remains a draw for travelers on Route 66.

This part of the Texas panhandle is clearly a big cotton growing region. I passed acres and acres of cotton fields, their soft snowy puffs just waiting to be harvested, and a few escapees rolling across the road.

As I roll along these miles of highway, from day one until now, I wonder what is that “make or break” point where some towns died with the loss of the highway and others survived. Was it their location to other things? Was it a town that refused to let the change take them down? I don’t really know, but after going through Adrian and Landergin that are barely hanging on, I came to Shamrock, TX. Nothing heading in to Shamrock would have led me to believe that it would be any different. Still panhandle. Still arid and flat. Still cotton country. But Shamrock was more “alive.” The town seemed to be better tended. I didn’t see the dilapidated and boarded up buildings; and as I went through downtown, I was provided with a reminder of making the most of what you have.

Right on the downtown corner was an old Conoco filling station and café. The filling station looked like it might be some sort of museum, but the café was still going. This building was so amazingly restored, you know it is the source of pride for someone, or for the whole town. Again, why here? What made this go and others fail.

Not long after leaving Shamrock, I crossed over into the state of Oklahoma and just further on into Erick. Erick’s claim to fame is as the childhood home of country singer Roger Miller, of King of the Road fame. I wonder what the Erick, OK of the 1930’s must have looked like when he was growing up, because in 2025 it has seen better days. Still alive, but the pulse is faint.

The soil in this part of Oklahoma is very rich red due to a high iron content. Aside from the science lesson, it just is a very pretty color, made all the more evident by the hundreds of small mounds that are everywhere – prairie dog communities. I didn’t see any prairie dogs, much to my sadness. Somehow I thought seeing them would just be cool.

Oklahoma, like Texas, is an oil state. This was very evident in Elk City where Parker Drilling Rig 114 still sits alongside the road for everyone to see. Elk City was a nicely kept town and they clearly embrace their connection to the “mother road.”

As I entered Oklahoma City, I was taken back in time to staying here on a family vacation as a kid. We stayed at a Rodeway Inn and the city didn’t seem so big. Obviously just a kids memory, because OKC is the largest city on Oklahoma, as well as the state capitol. I don’t like cities as a general rule. I don’t like to drive through them. I don’t like the crime and poverty that can be so evident. I don’t feel like I can breathe in cities, but I had a destination in OKC that I needed to see.

April 19, 1995 is a date that is seared into the minds of our nation. Just three months before my oldest daughter was born, I was sitting in my office when the receptionist announced to everyone that an explosion has occurred outside the federal building in Oklahoma City. It would still be days before we would know that it was an intentional act by a fellow American. What we did know was that the entire front of the nine-story building was gone, over 100 people were dead, and many of those were children in the buildings day care center. In total, 168 lives were lost that day and OKC was forever changed.

Today, the site of the Alfred Murrah Federal Building is a memorial park. It was peaceful walking around the site and seeing the memorial to so many innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The area that was the building itself if a lawn, and on that lawn are 168 chairs made of marble, bronze, and crystal. The crystal base of each chair is engraved with the name of a victim. The children’s chairs are slightly smaller than the others. The chairs seem to be a little haphazardly placed, until you learn that the placement represents the floor the victims were on when they passed. Fifth St., which ran in front of the building is now a reflecting pool. At one end stands a large black wall inscribed 9:01. At the other, an identical wall inscribed 9:03. The designer stated that this design reflects that at 9:01am, everything in OKC was as it always had been. At 9:03 was when the city drew its arms around the victims and their loved ones and began to rebuild.

I will forever remember where I was and what I was doing when the bombing occurred. I will forever remember the name of Baylee Almon and the picture of her lifeless body being carried away from the wreckage by a firefighter. It is a beautiful memorial that leaves you with a heavy heart – as it should.

And onward I drive…

Just as the sun was going down for the day, I found myself driving through the town of Stroud. You are reminded that we are headed into the holiday season, as the town is festively decorated and the downtown area was bustling. Stroud has most definitely not been hurt by the loss of the highway (or had a fantastic recovery). The town is clean, festive, and in great condition.

Bristow is another town that is in amazingly good condition. As I drove through the downtown area, about 6 blocks long, I was simply amazed by the charm this town exuded. All the buildings are adorned with lights and it seemed to be a throw back to earlier times – something like the old Jimmy Stewart holiday classic, It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Sapulpa is a town on the outskirts of Tulsa, which is my destination for the night. They still have an operating drive-in theater. I think very few things can be as reminiscent of Route 66 than a still thriving drive-in.

This was very full day and took me from the low of the OKC bombing site to the highs of seeing small towns completely decorated in anticipation of Christmas. As I pulled into my motel in Tulsa, I knew I would sleep well and that the alarm would go off much earlier than I really wanted it to.

Keep rambling…