I grew up in Alaska and Montana. When I was 12, we moved to small-town southern Oklahoma. My father worked for the Park Service, and this move got us closer to my mother’s home territory. Her parents lived in Oklahoma City and for six years, we finally lived just 90 minutes from them, instead of four time zones away.
We arrived in Sulphur, Oklahoma, in July of 1979, and I started 7th grade that fall at the middle school. The whole thing was a bit of a shock. I had never even heard of, much less eaten, chicken fried steak or fried okra before I hit that school cafeteria. I had never heard the incessant buzz of cicadas all summer long. I had never heard kids holler, “Y’all quit that!” at annoying classmates. In addition, I was underwhelmed with Chickasaw National Recreation Area. I came from big mountains, pine trees and deep snow in one state and arid plans with canyons carved from stone in the other. Quietly bubbling springs of sulphur water and summer swimming at Little Niagara amongst the chiggers were a bit anticlimactic.
However, I can never forget the people.
We visited both Methodist churches and the people were friendly. I attended youth group through high school with other kids who became my closest friends. In 8th grade, I asked my Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Howe, if we could meet. This kind woman who ran a ranch with her husband said yes. She picked me up after school I don’t know how many times, often buying us Cokes from Sonic. We spent a couple hours sitting in her car in a shady spot in the park, just talking.
My teachers in middle school seemed to actually enjoy putting up with our shenanigans. Mrs. Dilbeck was our 8th grade creative writing teacher, and we had so much fun in her class. We wrote a play for Christmas called “Who Shot Santa Claus?” because “Who shot JR” was the TV question of the year. The characters ranged from the Ayatollah Khomeini to Johnny Cash. I was Chrissie from “Three’s Company.” You put together your own comedy and you will make friends.
My classmates were good people. For the most part, they were kind to a fashion-challenged geek with poor social skills who had never listened to popular music before arriving in town. I had a couple good friends by 8th grade who gave me a buffer from bullying and an entree with the other kids. Heading to high school was an adjustment because somehow my classes weren’t populated with any of my closest friends. My new Oklahoma history teacher, Mr. Frazier, noticed me crying in class about the disappointment. He helped change my schedule so I had one class with friends.
High school was like high school for a lot of other folks in small town America, I’m sure. Friday night football games (in the band), people passing notes in class, boys getting paddled for sundry infractions (imagine!), Nikes versus Keds, crushes, spring fever—all the rest. I had many great teachers, especially Mr. Walsh, the most wonderful art teacher in any state. The staff there were kind also, from the lunch room ladies to the school counselor, Murph.
Despite my lack of enthusiasm at first, I found that Green Country does grow on you. I moved to Mississippi in 1991. When I went back to Sulphur for a visit, how beautiful the low green hills of southern Oklahoma were. Then I knew how much I loved the place: the park in the summer evenings as dusk was coming on with fireflies winking and the creek water chattering.
Unexpected sledding on the hill by the middle school in February when we got a crazy ice and snow storm.
Spring redbuds in their delicate bloom (I never have figured out why these gorgeous trees are called redbuds).
Teachers and families from church all showing up for my graduation open house.
I can’t deny that a town with a population of just under 5,000 has small town problems—primarily gossip. There were more times than one where someone started a rumor which spread quickly and caused painful damage. In high school, one of my friends turned on another friend and started talking bad about her. We always thought it was because she was jealous. But I don’t know. So this small town was no perfect place.
Yet in Sulphur I saw people helping other people when there was a need. Someone’s son had cancer. A fundraiser brought in what they needed. Adults looked out for kids who weren’t their own. Everyone showed up for a funeral. And as with every place within Oklahoma where I’ve lived or visited, people are the most friendly and kind in the US. I’ve lived many other places, and it’s true—Oklahomans help where help is needed.
Now, if you’re willing, it’s your turn to give to the people of Sulphur. I know they will thank you with all their hearts.
Thank you for reading, for donating, and for sharing this article as many places as possible. Even if you cannot donate, please don’t let that stop you from sharing.
https://southernusa.salvationarmy.org/central-oklahoma
https://www.gofundme.com/s?q=sulphur+oklahoma
https://give.mercychefs.com/apr24_torn_web
All BancFirst locations in Oklahoma are collecting donations to fund a 250,000 gift for Sulphur. https://www.bancfirst.bank/sulphur
Joy in the Journey 