An invitation to eat out! We
looked forward to a meal at a home owned café in the adjoining town of
Tonkawa, Oklahoma. This can tell you how into a rut, we really are. Not
that this is so bad. Sometimes, staying on the beaten path in parallel with
the schools, jobs, and whatever else necessary for continuing to survive
isn't all that unpleasant.
Tonkawa is approximately
fourteen miles from here. Interstate is just on the other side of Tonkawa.
To allow traffic to keep coming to our town, a very nice four lane highway
was built. Probably, this is what has kept Tonkawa and Ponca City from
becoming ghost towns. Truthfully, it isn't that much of a situation, but
still, the wide highway makes it very nice for getting on and off the
Tonight, as we zipped along
this road our route took us past the old prisoner of war camp, which is just
a sprinkling of old buildings still left there.
“Look! Look! I caught my
granddaughter's attention. There is the old prisoner of war camp. Your
grandmother lived there during the drought of '53.”
“What's a prisoner of war
camp, Gramma?” My granddaughter asked.
“It is a place where they
kept prisoners during a very big war. We will take a day off to walk through
there. I think the roads are still useable. Hopefully, I can locate the
spot where our apartment was located. I sure would love to see the city of
Tonkawa put a museum in one of the buildings, if there is one left in good
enough shape. Is the tower still there?”
We had a wonderful meal,
Mexican food with a touch of authenticity. The cilantro dip was very good
and the chips along with that was delicate and crispy. It reminded us of
some a Mexican grandmother would have made.
As we drove back to Ponca
City, immediately before our exit, a large deer was down on the road.
Evidently, a car had struck the animal and killed it.
“It's hunting season in
Oklahoma, I'm sure. The deer go a little berserk trying to get away from
the rifles. Poor thing.” This was the height of the evenings excitement. It
was enough to give us a short break, except for the deer all bloody on the
ground beside the highway, everything else was enjoyable.
When we walked into our warm
house it was so nice. I took the opportunity to open a lovely gift sent from
a new found cousin on the Hunter line. “The Bedford Handbook, Fifth
Edition, by Diana Hacker.” What a thrill this was. Also, she included a set
of hand crocheted bags looking like Indian Medicine bags. They are for
saving soap chips. In one of the bags was a bar of Yardley Soap.
“Now how did she know this is
my favorite? What a way of reaching out to me from all the way across the
United States. You see, GGGGrampa David Hunter of Hopkins county, Kentucky
is still alive and taking care of me via his bloodline. Through meeting and
getting acquainted with her I have a glimpse of his personality.Absolutely
phenomenal, I'm thinking, as I admire the cranberry colored medicine bags!”
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