Oklahoma

One of our first stops was Tishomingo, the historic capital of the Chickasaw Nation. The Capitol building was surrounded by reminders of Chickasaw history and culture, but what caught our attention most were the beautiful wood carvings throughout the area, with animals, colors, and symbols worked into the trees. We spent some time learning about the Chickasaw people and paying our respects to a culture deeply connected to this land.

Leaving Tishomingo, the roads opened into long stretches of prairie, farms, cattle, little towns, and sky.

Not far away was Wynnewood, where I eagerly wanted to see what remained of Joe Exotic and the zoo that had kept me company during the COVID pandemic. I wanted to know how the tigers were doing, and perhaps whether Carole was still somehow hanging around.

To my disappointment, the place was surrounded by orange and yellow tape and pretty much closed down. Well, Netflix does not always come to life. Or maybe that was simply the next episode.

On our way toward Oklahoma City, we stopped at a little gas station in a small Oklahoma town for some drinks.

I walked in wearing my yarmulke and immediately noticed an older man behind the counter. He had a little white beard, a bald head, and a stare that did not exactly tell a welcoming story. His eyes reminded me of Ivan, the bad character from the Yiddish storybooks of my childhood. He locked eyes with me and did not look away. Alright, I thought. Not every encounter on the road is going to be warm.

I brought my water and sodas to the counter. As I got closer, he lifted his shirt slightly and I noticed a handgun tucked into his waistband. Then his mouth slowly opened, revealing cracked teeth and one little gold tooth on the upper left.

“We don’t serve you people out here. Get the fuck out of my store.”

Alright, old man. For that moment, apparently I was every Jew responsible for every hardship he had ever experienced. I killed Jesus, charged the interest, and somehow ruined his day too.

I was suddenly not thirsty anymore. I put the drinks down, wished him a blessed day, and walked out.

My daughters were waiting outside for their drinks. Holding back both tears and anger, I simply told them, “They didn’t have the good ones.”

Little did they know that apparently they had killed Jesus too, and were only a few years away from starting to charge the man interest.

I tried not to let that one man define Oklahoma for them, or for me. Most of the people we met were warm, curious, and welcoming. Later, on the way back south, a horse ranch owner even invited us over to see his horses.

But that gas station encounter stayed with me precisely because it was so unusual. Across thousands of miles and dozens of states, we had been welcomed almost everywhere. That day was a reminder that hate still exists.

In Oklahoma City, we visited the State Capitol, continuing our journey through every capital in America. Its large golden dome rises above a city that mixes Western culture, Native American history, art, energy, and a growing modern downtown.

It was also very hot, and by then my thirst had returned. We quickly found a gas station that did serve “my people” and finally got our drinks.

We visited the Oklahoma City Zoo, one of my favorite zoos in the country. The variety of animals and beautiful exhibits made it a great family stop, and the girls had a wonderful time.

We also visited the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Reading the names of the 168 people murdered there reminded me that hate and violence ultimately do not discriminate.

Tulsa showed us another side of Oklahoma. We visited the Route 66 Historical Village, explored the old trains and buildings, and enjoyed a little genuine American roadside culture. The city itself, with its beautiful Art Deco architecture, music, art, and personality, was another reminder that Oklahoma is much more than small towns, cattle, and open prairie.

Everywhere we traveled, Native American history was impossible to separate from the story of the state. Oklahoma is home to dozens of tribal nations, each carrying its own history, traditions, and connection to the land.

Oklahoma surprised us.

Behind the plains was a state filled with culture, history, wonderful people, difficult moments, and stories that required much more than simply driving through to understand.