Fort Reno calling

Do you know what this is? If you do, you're not young. I found this relic today in the welcome center, for administrative building at historic Fort Reno, west of El Reno.
The place is much improved since the last time I visited, and I'd urge you to go. The welcome center is also a museum, full of history about the Fort, established in 1874, and continuing as an Amy post through WWII. 
Some great people have been here, including General Goerge Marshal, Will Rogers and others, including Indian scouts. It was also the home of the Buffalo soldiers, and soldiers at the Fort were instrumental in maintaining order in the Oklahoma Land Run. 
During WWII, the fort also maintained a POW camp for German and Italian prisoners, some of who are still buried in the Post cemetery about a mile west of the main fort. 
I learned a few years ago, when working on a story about Fort Sill, that the first telephone line in Oklahoma territory was strung between Fort Reno and Fort Sill.
Which brings me back to this doodad on the second floor of the welcome center.
Yes, it's an old telephone pedestal set in the wall, with a little alcove for the phone. Underneath is a hinged compartment that leans outward with a place for another relic--telephone books, and the wiring for the phone.
I remember when lots of houses had these nifty conveniences. Do you?
Oh, the photo in the alcove is of Black Jack, an army rose, who carried the empty saddle  and reversed boots behind the flag-draped coffins of JFK, LBJ, Herbert Hoover and Gen. MacArthur.
History calling! Go see it--it's free.
(P.S. Army installations are Forts, also referred to as "Posts." It is not an Army "base." Only the Navy and Air Force have "bases." Also, if someone dies, and the flag is lowered, it is only at "half-mast" on a Navy base. Everyplace else, it's at "half-staff.")

When the world was young, and so were we

Fifty years ago today...tread lightly

I can not watch any of the almost unending coverage this week on the 50th anniversary of Kennedy's assassination, especially the black and white TV footage, or the many old men talking about that day, and the historical events. It's too personal.

The day dawned bright at Oklahoma Christian College in Oklahoma City 50 years ago. It was homecoming, and I'd come with friends from Albuquerque to visit friends from a year ago, and to see a special person. I'd attended OCC the year before as a freshman, but went back home to a semester at UNM because of finances. But I never forgot this high school senior I'd met at church.

Snapshots by a friend in Dallas, Nov. 22, 1963

The day turned black. Many students were gathered in the student union that morning, when terrible news from Dallas changed the mood. The Young Republicans...of whom I'd been a member...immediately draped a wall with a photograph of President John F. Kennedy, assassinated a few hours earlier.

I remember little of the rest of that day, except for my date with the special person. Later than evening, outside her home in Bethany, Oklahoma, she accepted my marriage proposal. 
The day turned bright. I remember little, and when children were mentioned, she said "four." So it was over the following years.

When there was hope and joy, and Jackie

Back home in Albuquerque, while black and white TV droned on and on with the funeral, friends commented how great it was to hear my voice full of hope and joy. The next semester, I returned to Oklahoma, to Central State University, and marriage that summer.

The years were good, and not so good, as with wine, and some were bad, and there were also mistakes and sorrows. But thankfully, the four children are healthy, smart and terrific, and today there are eight grandchildren, two of them bearing their grandmother's name.

Thus it is, that every Nov. 22, in spite of forgetting other dates, I always remember--tragedies, hopes and joys, and sorrows. Journeys ended then, and also began.

America lost hope, and I found it. As with my country, there have been bright days, and fewer dark days. Today, I'm thankful for all the bright days, and the many lives and memories  that have followed.

When the world was young, and so were we.