Thursday, August 21, 2008
We arrived without incident, except ...
(First, just for Geoffrey: All about Slapout, Okla.!)
Now ...
Uno. Somewhere between about all that ever was of Slapout and all that's left of Hardesty, Okla., oncoming traffic started flashing headlights and goin' beyond the usual one-finger-off-the-wheel wave in what we assumed was the universal warning that either a roadblock was ahead or a trooper running radar or something.
So, I backed it down to 65 and kept my eyes peeled. Then, a few miles later, "Hey, those cows look a little close to the road. Hey, those cows are out. Holy crap, all of somebody's cows are out!"
None was in the highway, but there were cows all over both sides of the highway, maybe 50 head -- more than I've ever seen out at one time, and I have seen more than a few bunches of cattle on the roadway. I scattered a small herd that appeared around a curve once in West Texas, and nicked one on open range 10 summers ago in New Mexico.
Between Slapout and Hardesty, I'm thinking either somebody's electric fence failed, or, somebody had cattle grazing in a place no cattle had grazed for years, so there was no need to keep the fence in shape.
Cattle raisers in the Oklahoma Panhandle, which is in a severe drought despite last week's rare deluge, got emergency permission to let cattle graze land they've set aside in the Conservation Reserve Program. CRP fences probably aren't kept up like other fences.
Or, Hardesty bein' where it is, those bovines mighta been ghost cows from the Jones & Plummer Trail!
Two-o. Jesus is moonlighting at a muffler shop in Guymon, OK. The sign at the Midas listed the specials, and at the bottom it said, "Ask for Jesus."
Now, I know the Hispanic population has exploded in the Panhandle, but ... Jesus. Shouldn't there be an accent over the U or something to designate when its Hay-Soose and not Gee-Zus? :-)
Tres. In the restroom at the McDonalds in Lamar, Colo., just as I was wondering, "Where the hell are the urinals?" an older woman stepped out of a stall.
Road-weary and clown-eyed, I sort of heard her say, politely, "Sir, this is the ladies' room." "I don't think so," I actually said, as she opened the door and the skirt on the stick figure, and the "WO" in the word WOMEN, which I'd missed, flashed past my stupor and into my head like lightning.
I rushed out to see a young woman holding fast to her young daughter, saying, "I *thought* I saw a man go in there!" I just darted into the men's room and the situated dissipated. But, gah!
A few minutes later, the older woman told me while we were in line at the counter that I was perfectly legal all the time, since Colorado apparently recently made all public restrooms unisex. Gah, nonetheless.
Four. We drove most of the way with the radio off, enjoying the rare silence, although Dr. ER did watch some DVDs with earphones on. But outside Kit Carson, Colo., with me nodding off again after the excitement of storming the ladies' room at the McDonalds in Lamar like a dang prevert, and digesting a double-cheese and fries, I was nodding off again, so Dr. ER popped in "Dead or Alive" by bon Jovi.
After it finished, I softly started singing "Wike a cowboy, on a ste-ul haws I wide, I'm wanted, dead or awi-i-iive" a la Elmer Fudd, where upon Dr. ER, who loves Jon bon Jovi like no other star, threatened to whomp me. Now, all I have to do to get a yelp out of her is softly sing, "Wike a cowboy ..."
But other than that, it was an uneventful 12-hour drive from one side of the Great Plains to the other. :-)
--ER
Now ...
Uno. Somewhere between about all that ever was of Slapout and all that's left of Hardesty, Okla., oncoming traffic started flashing headlights and goin' beyond the usual one-finger-off-the-wheel wave in what we assumed was the universal warning that either a roadblock was ahead or a trooper running radar or something.
So, I backed it down to 65 and kept my eyes peeled. Then, a few miles later, "Hey, those cows look a little close to the road. Hey, those cows are out. Holy crap, all of somebody's cows are out!"
None was in the highway, but there were cows all over both sides of the highway, maybe 50 head -- more than I've ever seen out at one time, and I have seen more than a few bunches of cattle on the roadway. I scattered a small herd that appeared around a curve once in West Texas, and nicked one on open range 10 summers ago in New Mexico.
Between Slapout and Hardesty, I'm thinking either somebody's electric fence failed, or, somebody had cattle grazing in a place no cattle had grazed for years, so there was no need to keep the fence in shape.
Cattle raisers in the Oklahoma Panhandle, which is in a severe drought despite last week's rare deluge, got emergency permission to let cattle graze land they've set aside in the Conservation Reserve Program. CRP fences probably aren't kept up like other fences.
Or, Hardesty bein' where it is, those bovines mighta been ghost cows from the Jones & Plummer Trail!
Two-o. Jesus is moonlighting at a muffler shop in Guymon, OK. The sign at the Midas listed the specials, and at the bottom it said, "Ask for Jesus."
Now, I know the Hispanic population has exploded in the Panhandle, but ... Jesus. Shouldn't there be an accent over the U or something to designate when its Hay-Soose and not Gee-Zus? :-)
Tres. In the restroom at the McDonalds in Lamar, Colo., just as I was wondering, "Where the hell are the urinals?" an older woman stepped out of a stall.
Road-weary and clown-eyed, I sort of heard her say, politely, "Sir, this is the ladies' room." "I don't think so," I actually said, as she opened the door and the skirt on the stick figure, and the "WO" in the word WOMEN, which I'd missed, flashed past my stupor and into my head like lightning.
I rushed out to see a young woman holding fast to her young daughter, saying, "I *thought* I saw a man go in there!" I just darted into the men's room and the situated dissipated. But, gah!
A few minutes later, the older woman told me while we were in line at the counter that I was perfectly legal all the time, since Colorado apparently recently made all public restrooms unisex. Gah, nonetheless.
Four. We drove most of the way with the radio off, enjoying the rare silence, although Dr. ER did watch some DVDs with earphones on. But outside Kit Carson, Colo., with me nodding off again after the excitement of storming the ladies' room at the McDonalds in Lamar like a dang prevert, and digesting a double-cheese and fries, I was nodding off again, so Dr. ER popped in "Dead or Alive" by bon Jovi.
After it finished, I softly started singing "Wike a cowboy, on a ste-ul haws I wide, I'm wanted, dead or awi-i-iive" a la Elmer Fudd, where upon Dr. ER, who loves Jon bon Jovi like no other star, threatened to whomp me. Now, all I have to do to get a yelp out of her is softly sing, "Wike a cowboy ..."
But other than that, it was an uneventful 12-hour drive from one side of the Great Plains to the other. :-)
--ER
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As to the whole numero uno thing - talk about a cattle drive!
As for Slapout - I now make it my life's ambition to visit there. I love the story - "We're slap out of coffee." The fact that Slapout is in Beaver County, well you couldn't make that up, and for someone who can make anything dirty, that's just gold.
Glad you didn't get busted for a Larry Craig-style offense at Mickey D's, and that the good Dr. didn't cuff you a good one for blaspheming St. Jon of Bon Jovi. Glad the trip was successful, and you are both safe, and here's hoping the return is the same.
As for Slapout - I now make it my life's ambition to visit there. I love the story - "We're slap out of coffee." The fact that Slapout is in Beaver County, well you couldn't make that up, and for someone who can make anything dirty, that's just gold.
Glad you didn't get busted for a Larry Craig-style offense at Mickey D's, and that the good Dr. didn't cuff you a good one for blaspheming St. Jon of Bon Jovi. Glad the trip was successful, and you are both safe, and here's hoping the return is the same.
Ha! Did you see this from the Wkiki article on Slapout?
"Tom Lemons, who had bought the Johnson homestead, moved a chicken coup to where the highway passed his land."
LOL. A chicken coup!
"Tom Lemons, who had bought the Johnson homestead, moved a chicken coup to where the highway passed his land."
LOL. A chicken coup!
Have taken that exact route on multiple occasions and don't remember Slapout at all. Then again, last time was pre-grad school, so it could just be one of the many odd bits of information I seem to have lost.
Glad y'all made it safe n sound, and that the cows weren't actually in the road. What a mess that would've been.
Glad y'all made it safe n sound, and that the cows weren't actually in the road. What a mess that would've been.
I missed the attempt of the good chickens of Slapout to revolt. They have nothing to lose but, what, the Colonel's secret recipe? Would that be a coup de foul?
Ha! Slapout is like Platform 9 and 3/4, boarding for Hogwarts. Ya gotta be lookin' for it to see it, and it helps to go through with someone who's been through before! :-)
BTW, I am the proud owner of a "Slapout, OK" gimme cap I got a few years ago at the store.
BTW, I am the proud owner of a "Slapout, OK" gimme cap I got a few years ago at the store.
Another Slapout story:
A trip or three ago, as Dr. ER and I were pullin' up to the store, here came a flatbed farm truck barreling out of the cornfield across the highway -- I mean it came out of the field, not a road, with roasting ears and stalks flying, scooted across the highway up to the store, with corns stalks sticking all out from the big front bumper, brush guard and winch mount. A behatted guy, who also was bebooted, and a gal jumped out, ran into the store and came out loaded down with "suitcases" of beer. Got back into the truck and took off back into the field as pretty as you please.
A trip or three ago, as Dr. ER and I were pullin' up to the store, here came a flatbed farm truck barreling out of the cornfield across the highway -- I mean it came out of the field, not a road, with roasting ears and stalks flying, scooted across the highway up to the store, with corns stalks sticking all out from the big front bumper, brush guard and winch mount. A behatted guy, who also was bebooted, and a gal jumped out, ran into the store and came out loaded down with "suitcases" of beer. Got back into the truck and took off back into the field as pretty as you please.
Drove across the Navajo Reservation last month. It is open range. Cows, horses, goats, sheep, where ever the hell they want to be. You hit one you buy two. In Chinle AZ, we came out of the A&W Root Beer place and a horse was standing by the passenger side door of our car. Freaked my city raised wife out. But the ole fellow spotted some french fries on the ground and wandered over for a treat and let us get in the car. It seems that horses in particular like to hang out at the eating places in town and catch some free grub on occassion.
It's like a day without sunshine here if there's not at least three reports on the police log of cattle out on the margins of town. Last night a woman hit two critters. Lately the roaming livestock has been several goats that get out of a field behind a gas station on the main north-south highway in town. Which is about 4 blocks from my house. It seems weird anyway.
It's gotten to the point that the police and sheriff's logs just identify the owners by first name -- as in "Earls' cattle got out on Union. Officer put them back in the fence."
It's gotten to the point that the police and sheriff's logs just identify the owners by first name -- as in "Earls' cattle got out on Union. Officer put them back in the fence."
But ... are the goats loaded?
"An explosive situation develops when Cy Hudgins' pet goat Jimmy eats a box full of dynamite. The nervous Mayberryites spend the rest of the day gingerly tiptoeing around the goat, terrified that the animal will blow up 'real good' at any moment. In the end, it is up to Barney to lead Jimmy out of town in a manner reminiscent of Hamelin's Pied Piper (or, in this case, Pied Harmonica Player)."
"An explosive situation develops when Cy Hudgins' pet goat Jimmy eats a box full of dynamite. The nervous Mayberryites spend the rest of the day gingerly tiptoeing around the goat, terrified that the animal will blow up 'real good' at any moment. In the end, it is up to Barney to lead Jimmy out of town in a manner reminiscent of Hamelin's Pied Piper (or, in this case, Pied Harmonica Player)."
After wasting considerable time on the web tracking down some "slapout" origins, I have to ask, where does it come from?
All you have to do, drlobojo, is click the link at the top of the post. ER has provided a very nice wikipedia article on Slapout.
My father's family moved to a little town called Lockwood, NY in 1930, partly because my grandmother could no longer bear to live in the house that used to be home to her now-dead oldest son, and partly because my grandfather had always wanted to be a gentleman farmer. Today, Lockwood is a shadow of its former self, a place of run-down houses, trailers, and unused farmland. When my father's family lived there - and up through the late 1950's - it was a bustling little town of about 300 or 400 people in and around the area; it had a station for the train to stop (a local that ran from Waverly, through Ithaca up to Syracuse, I think my father said, roughly following State Route 34). Even in my early childhood memories, Lockwood was a wondrous place; I kept it in mind when, also as a child, I used to watch The Walton's - it was that kind of place.
Like many such small places, with the demise of two-lane roads, and passenger rail service to and from every small burg in the country, it is withering away. Unlike Slapout, it doesn't have the comfort of color and local anecdote to keep it going. While rarely nostalgic or sentimental about this kind of thing, for Lockwood, at least, I am because I have roots, and memories, and experiences, and even family buried there (my father's brother, who passed away in May, 1999, bought the next to last plot in the Lockwood cemetery; his daughter, my cousin Nancy and her husband, bought the last; Nancy and I have on several occasions mourned the early demise and zombie-like existence of the current state of affairs in Lockwood), though so maybe it's the personal connection that makes me mourn.
My father's family moved to a little town called Lockwood, NY in 1930, partly because my grandmother could no longer bear to live in the house that used to be home to her now-dead oldest son, and partly because my grandfather had always wanted to be a gentleman farmer. Today, Lockwood is a shadow of its former self, a place of run-down houses, trailers, and unused farmland. When my father's family lived there - and up through the late 1950's - it was a bustling little town of about 300 or 400 people in and around the area; it had a station for the train to stop (a local that ran from Waverly, through Ithaca up to Syracuse, I think my father said, roughly following State Route 34). Even in my early childhood memories, Lockwood was a wondrous place; I kept it in mind when, also as a child, I used to watch The Walton's - it was that kind of place.
Like many such small places, with the demise of two-lane roads, and passenger rail service to and from every small burg in the country, it is withering away. Unlike Slapout, it doesn't have the comfort of color and local anecdote to keep it going. While rarely nostalgic or sentimental about this kind of thing, for Lockwood, at least, I am because I have roots, and memories, and experiences, and even family buried there (my father's brother, who passed away in May, 1999, bought the next to last plot in the Lockwood cemetery; his daughter, my cousin Nancy and her husband, bought the last; Nancy and I have on several occasions mourned the early demise and zombie-like existence of the current state of affairs in Lockwood), though so maybe it's the personal connection that makes me mourn.
OK, this is a concept that has never dawned on me: "the next to last plot in the Lockwood cemetery." Cemeteries get filled up? Wow. Hard for me to imagine even in a part of the country where there are usually more dead than living in what's left of many towns.
And: Bird's biological male parental unit lived for a time in Horseheads, N.Y., Dr. ER says.
And: Bird's biological male parental unit lived for a time in Horseheads, N.Y., Dr. ER says.
You have to see how the cemetery in Lockwood is laid out, and the fact it sits on a little plateau on the downslope of a hill. Physically, the land apportioned for the cemetery has run out, with my cousin Nancy's purchase of her double plot with her husband.
Horseheads? Right up the road, between Elmira and Corning. Route 17 used to have actual traffic lights on it as you went through, but a bypass has rid drivers of that oddity. For a prize, can your lovely bride give the source of the town name, Horseheads, or another Elmira/Corning area town, Painted Post?
Horseheads? Right up the road, between Elmira and Corning. Route 17 used to have actual traffic lights on it as you went through, but a bypass has rid drivers of that oddity. For a prize, can your lovely bride give the source of the town name, Horseheads, or another Elmira/Corning area town, Painted Post?
She says she doesn't know.
"Corning is my favorite place ever," she said. "There's a lot of either Remington or Russell at a museum in Corning."
My guess is it's Remington. Russell more or less BECAME the West, and Remington, I think, always kept one foot in New York ...
"Corning is my favorite place ever," she said. "There's a lot of either Remington or Russell at a museum in Corning."
My guess is it's Remington. Russell more or less BECAME the West, and Remington, I think, always kept one foot in New York ...
Now, I haven't checked Wikipedia to see if my recollection of local stories is correct, so bear with me.
During the Revolution, George Washington consigned failed general John Sullivan to Fort Tioga in what was then the frontiers of PA, now the southernmost tip of the borough of Athens (my father's hometown), to fight the Indians. The Iroquois were being bribed by the British and coming down out of Canada and harassing settlers on what was then the fringes of American civilization. Sullivan was charged with chasing them out. He had one pitched battle with them, in Newtown, just outside what is now Elmira, but they slipped away. Later, he had them surrounded on an ox-bow in the Chemung River, but rather than fight, he tried to starve them out. He laid siege, and it almost worked, but the combined Seneca/Mohawk group managed to slip away after slaughtering most of their horses for meat. They left behind . . . the horses' heads.
Later, one of the leaders of the Iroquois died from wounds received in a skirmish. His blood was put on a pole, thus the "Painted Post".
Sullivan was largely successful, harassing the Indians, but giving up around what is now Geneseo, just south of Rochester. The Indians didn't bother settlers again.
It's Frederick Remington that is housed in a Corning Museum. Corning is also home to Corning Glass Works (which, among other products, produces Corningware dishes and a type of fiberglass insulation), which also has a wonderful Museum of Glass, including the largest telescopic mirror, which they made, but had a fatal flaw making it unusable. I have been surprised at the number of people who have been to Corning.
Personally, I prefer Ithaca, current residence of my own commenter Democracy Lover.
During the Revolution, George Washington consigned failed general John Sullivan to Fort Tioga in what was then the frontiers of PA, now the southernmost tip of the borough of Athens (my father's hometown), to fight the Indians. The Iroquois were being bribed by the British and coming down out of Canada and harassing settlers on what was then the fringes of American civilization. Sullivan was charged with chasing them out. He had one pitched battle with them, in Newtown, just outside what is now Elmira, but they slipped away. Later, he had them surrounded on an ox-bow in the Chemung River, but rather than fight, he tried to starve them out. He laid siege, and it almost worked, but the combined Seneca/Mohawk group managed to slip away after slaughtering most of their horses for meat. They left behind . . . the horses' heads.
Later, one of the leaders of the Iroquois died from wounds received in a skirmish. His blood was put on a pole, thus the "Painted Post".
Sullivan was largely successful, harassing the Indians, but giving up around what is now Geneseo, just south of Rochester. The Indians didn't bother settlers again.
It's Frederick Remington that is housed in a Corning Museum. Corning is also home to Corning Glass Works (which, among other products, produces Corningware dishes and a type of fiberglass insulation), which also has a wonderful Museum of Glass, including the largest telescopic mirror, which they made, but had a fatal flaw making it unusable. I have been surprised at the number of people who have been to Corning.
Personally, I prefer Ithaca, current residence of my own commenter Democracy Lover.
You know, from Guymon, you have to go through Hooker to get to Beaver. And if you're a traveling sort, you can go to Straight to Hooker to Beaver.
GKS said:"All you have to do, drlobojo, is click the link at the top of the post. ER has provided a very nice wikipedia article on Slapout."
Geez?
"Slapout" origin as in etymology of the word/phrase.
The "town/store" of Slapout I've been to more than once.
Geez?
"Slapout" origin as in etymology of the word/phrase.
The "town/store" of Slapout I've been to more than once.
There are not nearly enough comments about ER in the women's bathroom. I had a good time reading that one. Perhaps I am just easily amused.
# posted by 
: 10:06 PM
: 10:06 PM
Great tale, Geoffrey. I did some grad-level research on treaty-making between the Continental Congress and the Irqoquois.
Re, "Slapout" origin as in etymology of the word/phrase
Maybe this is it:
Slap. adv. Informal.
Directly and with force
"We're slap out of beans today," would be a shortened form of "We've run slap out of beans today" -- "run" or something like it bein' necessary for the use of "slap" as an adverb.
Maybe this is it:
Slap. adv. Informal.
Directly and with force
"We're slap out of beans today," would be a shortened form of "We've run slap out of beans today" -- "run" or something like it bein' necessary for the use of "slap" as an adverb.
Hum, the closest I came to some sense of the saying may have come from reading about Slapout Alabama.
That mentioned slapping out of a tune, as in slap out a rythm. But that didn't quite fit.
That mentioned slapping out of a tune, as in slap out a rythm. But that didn't quite fit.
(Going totally off-topic here)
In re your studies of the treaties between the fledgling Congress and the Iroquois, both the Senecas and the Mohawks in particular have been successful in recent years arguing those treaties are still in force. The Senecas, who have a reservation in western New York, through which I drive on my way home, managed to win a court battle to open a casino on their land even though such is illegal in NY.
It's nice to know that the Indians have decided to fight the US in court. The Sioux like to say they are the only Native peoples who have not lost a war with the US. Wrong; the Iroquois have not either (I think the chase up the Finger Lakes by Sullivan can be considered a draw).
Also, I seem to recall, back in the late 1980's, a court challenge by the Mohawks to certain provisions of a treaty they had with the US Congress under the Articles of Confederation, because the lands they were given cross the current US-Canadian border. Interestingly enough, I seem to recall that protest was actually first started in Canada!
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In re your studies of the treaties between the fledgling Congress and the Iroquois, both the Senecas and the Mohawks in particular have been successful in recent years arguing those treaties are still in force. The Senecas, who have a reservation in western New York, through which I drive on my way home, managed to win a court battle to open a casino on their land even though such is illegal in NY.
It's nice to know that the Indians have decided to fight the US in court. The Sioux like to say they are the only Native peoples who have not lost a war with the US. Wrong; the Iroquois have not either (I think the chase up the Finger Lakes by Sullivan can be considered a draw).
Also, I seem to recall, back in the late 1980's, a court challenge by the Mohawks to certain provisions of a treaty they had with the US Congress under the Articles of Confederation, because the lands they were given cross the current US-Canadian border. Interestingly enough, I seem to recall that protest was actually first started in Canada!
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