I stepped in, then stood silently, surveying the church sanctuary. When the pastor up at the platform, spotted his new visitor, he left the platform and started my way. A
I stepped in, then stood silently, surveying the church sanctuary. When the pastor up at the platform, spotted his new visitor, he left the platform and started my way.
A gray-haired couple had arrived early and had taken their seats nearby. The pianist up front busied herself with sheet music. She leafed through a red hymnal. I had noticed the gray-haired lady held a book of the same reddish tint. Its title – featured in gold lettering underneath three delicately-printed crosses – read, “Melodies of Praise”.
The minister’s handshake and generous smile confirmed what I already sensed – an easy warmth about this place.
“So, Jerry, where do you come from? Where would you call home?”
“Well, I’m from a small place called Okmulgee. It’s in Oklahoma, about thirty miles south of Tulsa.”
The “Okmulgee” reference struck a strong chord with the gray-haired lady holding the hymnal. Mom Starbuck swiveled her head abruptly, her eyes shimmering, her smile betraying sheer delight. In an accent common to my Oklahoma ears, Mom Starbuck announced with little-girl glee, “Okmulgee?!”, followed swiftly with, “I went to high school in Preston!”
The accent rendering high school, “hahskule”, confirmed the lady’s origins. I was dumbfounded.
“How likely is this?”, I thought, “a couple of Okies, – twelve-hundred-miles from our roots – connecting in a place of worship my first week in the Wyoming Rockies. But, here we were – united by a common culture – forty-five years removed. The culture of Preston, Oklahoma, population 400.
Preston, where Instructor Smith introduced me to circular typing keys, their letters, digits and symbols mounted on thin metal stems. I learned in her class to vigorously slide the machine’s feed roller back to each line’s start. And there I entered the magic world of black carbon paper.
Typing I and Typing II had now brought me to Wyoming. To Cody and her warmhearted people, at least here in this room. Lifting my vision toward the church ceiling, I pondered, “God, could you be behind something here?”
Two weeks later found me and my burgundy suitcase at Mom and Pop Starbucks front door.
“Oklahoma cooking. Now that will be nice!”
©2019 Jerry Lout
Writer-Speaker Jerry Lout schooled at Okmulgee’s Wilson Elementary, Preston High and O.S.U. Okmulgee. Jerry authored “Living With A Limp”, from which this piece is edited ( Amazon.com ). Additional narratives are posted on his blog at www.jerrylout.com. He may be reached at jerrylout@gmail.com.
