I’m leaving my native land. I always knew that I’d leave, but I’m still not prepared. When I left Oklahoma for Texas, it felt temporary, as all military moves do. And north Texas isn’t that different from central Oklahoma – the people sound the same, the air smells the same, and the sky still goes on for miles.

 My great-grandma’s birth certificate reads “born May 18, 1896 near McAlester, Indian Territory.” She was 11 when Oklahoma became a state, and she remembered feeling ambivalent about it. She was an Indian first, one who was proud of her braids and the fact that she could outrun the boys and hurdle over fences better than them, even in her dress and petticoats. Her parents were in the Territory because her father was a Sooner – he did not know that a date had been set for settlement. He had just heard that there was land available. Her mother was there because her parents had survived the Trail of Tears – the last leg that moved the Cherokees to the Territory to join the four other “Civilized Tribes.”

My connection to the geography is strong. I learned all the little towns from watching the weather during tornado season. My friends and family were scattered all over the state. The ruts from the Chisholm Trail were still visible in the neighborhood where my mom and stepdad lived.

Those ruts are visible in the town I’m leaving here in Texas. If I followed them, I could get home. I can always find my way here, because I can always see the sun. For someone accustomed to a skyline and a canopy of trees, the open sky of my home would probably be disorienting – vast, blue, desolate. For one like me, it’s a map leading homeward. From my new home, I can see the Chicago skyline. Folks there orient themselves according to buildings and landmarks. It’s dizzying to me. On a street corner downtown, there is a memorial plaque built into the sidewalk. Thousands of people shuffle over it daily, maybe never noticing that it commemorates the site of Ft. Dearborn. I have a strange connection to my home’s past. I’ve heard many of the stories first-hand. My great-grandma, who lived in comfort in our large home in a country club neighborhood, also lived in a sod house. She picked daisies off her own roof and swept her dirt floor. I’ll miss the historic sites where I once went to feel a sense of belonging, of kinship – the Harn Homestead, Spiro Mounds, the Cowboy Hall of Fame.

I’ll always be an Okie, but my child will not. I can tell her the stories, I can take her to visit, but she’ll always be a tourist. A second-hand Okie. I know I’ll never live there again. I hardly recognize the city now – it’s experiencing a second boom, much like the one that ended in the 80’s. I’ll make a new home with my family in Illinois, but I’ll never be mistaken for a native. My accent, rather than my words, will be my shibboleth. I may have to conquer my fear of heights. I know I’ll want to see the sky, uninterrupted, again. If I climb high enough, I think I can. I’ll place the stars by memory, even though I won’t be able to see them. I’ll tell my child where they are supposed to be.

My child was just watching the Hansel and Greta opera with rapt attention. She has lately been greeting me with air kisses on both cheeks. She has also expressed a desire for a dressing area with a screen and a pouf to sit on.

 

 Good lord, I'm raising a budding socialite.

Sooo, while I was driving back to Texas from Chicago last week, someone else was using my name and my mom's cell phone number to sign up for information from a university in Colorado. Strangely, they provided an address in Del City, OK - about 20 minutes from where my family lives, and a completely foreign, but apparently valid, e-mail address.

 Ack! Someone is attempting to enroll in a mediocre technical university under my name! They did not, however, provide a SS number.

 I was a credit and collections manager for a few years. I've seen this before. It's likely an exploratory, soft attempt at identity theft. I've taken all precautionary measures necessary, probably causing myself grief when applying for credit for the next 50 years. The people at the FTC are surprisingly competent, patient, and personable. Yay for a functioning government department!

Happy Birthday, GirlWho.

She is celebrating by wildly swinging her new lightsaber and terrifying the dog.

Lovely, historic Oak Park! It's just outside the city - in rush hour it's only a 20 minute drive to Navy Pier. The schools are top-notch - seriously some of the best in the nation. There's a freakin' city ice rink.

 Our apartment is awesome - it's the original aesthetic from when the building was built in 1916. It's roomy, has huge bay windows and beautiful beams on the ceilings of the living, dining, and sun rooms. The building is a vintage courtyard style, with large yards in the front and back.

The whole town is walkable and has a bustling, vibrant downtown. It's also a liberal, artsy enclave. Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio are in Oak Park, and several of the homes and one of the churches are Wright buildings. Many of the town's churches have signs denoting them to be "welcoming congregations" - which, in their case, means they welcome all people and families, regardless of sexual orientation. We're only two blocks from GirlWho's school and about three blocks from the Green Line. It's so easy to hop on a train and go downtown.

We found our apartment with the help of an amazing non-profit referral service whose mission is to ensure racial diversity in what is quite a wealthy suburb. I've never heard of a group like this before - I'm sure there are others elsewhere, but they do wonderful work and are kind and helpful.

We think we've found the town we want to stay in.

And, I missed you guys!

Just when it seems safe to announce our plans, the phone rings. With THE job offer of the century in my husband's field of media relations/ public affairs. This is a really high-profile non-profit organization that everyone has heard of and the job is anything BUT entry-level. Holy crap, Batman!

 It's in Chicago. Eep. I'm both excited and terrified. Thank God he hadn't signed the official offer for the other job yet. Sheesh. Our dear friends just moved to Chicago, and DaddyWho would cross paths professionally with one of them frequently. Perfect. I just have NO idea where to live.

Beautiful San Marcos, TX! It's about 25 miles south of Austin and is really a lovely town. We were moving to Austin proper because DaddyWho was taking a job he really didn't want, but was the best deal going at the time. Suddenly, great job offers poured in before he was slated to start to undesirable job. He's going to be working for a company that sells commercial and military diving and tactical equipment. He's used all the gear before and he knows all the people in his territory, so this is a good fit for him.

There were a few foreign possibilities, but those didn't pan out. The Army wanted him back to do his old job, but in Germany, but Army medical would have none of it. He was recruited for a job in Brisbane, Australia, but he would have had to spend considerable amounts of time in, uh, less desirable locations where people would be shooting at him. I'll just let your imaginations run wild on what that job was - it can't be far from the truth. He also turned down a job in Canada.

 We're excited about finally settling down somewhere of our choosing. We could have chosen anywhere in Texas, and we have often talked about how we would love to live in San Marcos. It's a neat college town, and the San Marcos River, a spring-fed, rock bottom river, starts in town and runs through the campus. People tube, float, and kayak between classes. Quite a bit of wetlands reclamation and conservation work is done there as well because of the springs and the Edwards Aquifer.

My husband's parents live there as well. That's a positive thing, most days.

 Now that we know where we are moving and when, I must really start packing. If you don't hear from me for several days, assume I've fallen headfirst into a wardrobe box and am in unrgent need of rescue. Or I might be paddling down the river, beer in hand.

While searching for a house to rent - in a college town where the dorms are full - I came upon this ad. I really hope that the person who wrote this was either a non-native speaker of English or was wielding a thesaurus without a license.

 Rather than link to the ad, here's the funniest part of the text:

 This admirable 3 bedroom house has great curve appeal, reflecting the inside where you can find: Beautiful Title ceiling shipped from Europe. Granite bathroom countertop. Jacuzzi tub with heat. Huge family room. Wall to wall carpeting in all 4 bedrooms living room, and in the hallway

What the hell is a "title ceiling" ? Curve appeal? And can a house be "admirable"?

 I think I'm gonna like this town.

One week ago today I received the call that my grandmother would not live through the day. I raced up to Oklahoma from Texas to see her, hoping to see her alive. She was still fairly coherent when I arrived, but the prognosis was still dire. She lingered until yesterday at 5pm. She had no nutrition and no medical interventions other than basic comfort measures for seven days. No food, no water - she refused any administration of IV nutrition and would not take any by mouth. Have I mentioned before that my grandmother is a bit stubborn? Yes, this is the grandma that was convinced her fish were kidnapped, and that tickling a baby would make them stutter. She is also the woman who raised me, and a woman to whom my child is very close. I haven't told my daughter yet. She is with her dad's parents - I don't think I'll have her come to the funeral. I'm not sure. She is going to be absolutely devastated. The funeral is Monday. After that, I imagine I'll sort a few things out here and head home for a bit. I'm supposed to be packing to move right now. It will get done eventually.