I live on a street of small, older houses in the center of my town which is located in what was once Indian Territory. It was the destination that ended the Trail of Tears, when our government forced Indians to walk and carry their meager belonging, from the Southeastern states. It was begat at the time of the Land Run, in I believe 1879. I moved here four years ago after living In a town called Lubbock, named after a Confederate Colonel in far west Texas. There I lived in a 2800 sq./Ft brick trimmed house for forty-four years, surrounded by Japanese Black Pine, a large well kept yard, with a large S-shaped hill running, diagonally across one side of the front yard. Parents who had played in that yard, run up and down that hill, and climbed those trees with my kids, brought their own children back to see where they had grown up and to run up and down the hill and climb those same trees. That's all gone. I left it to come here to go with the flow. I've been In Norman Oklahoma four years now. I know my neighbors on one side of me now and last month I learned my other neighbor's name when the postman delivered their letter to my house, a young couple who have bought a new suburban, a new pickup, and a new harley Davidson. Since then we have spoken over the fence once when he was mowing his yard. My son and daughter inn law live a couple of miles from me in a large home but they are very busy. He calls once in a while to see if we need anything. This is my last town, the last car I will own, where I hope to die in my sleep. But in the meantime, I'm online looking at all the fun others are having. Cheers.
