My News Days #5

Sept. 20, 2019... Snyder America!

     Here I sit writing this blog, My News Days, after quitting time from our duties at The Windmill Ranch west of Snyder, Texas. It dawned on me earlier today that the memories and stories I'm posting don't just come to me when I'm seated with a keyboard at my fingertips. The recollections are more like a movie reel on a spastic loop. Sometimes, I'm focused on the task in front of me. Other times, it's like 'poof' here's another memory.
     That's probably the way it is for all of us. We go about our day to day business and then out of the clear blue sky... a memory whether good, bad or ugly pops into our heads. I guess the memories of the news days kept returning enough times that they pushed me toward putting them down in black and white.


Graduation to Ada, Oklahoma, 1987-1988

     The day I got my diploma would be considered a cold day in New Orleans. I didn't take part in a December graduation. I had my diploma mailed to me in NOLA. I remember that because I caught the mailman at my apartment. We actually went to the big box on the corner to retrieve the package holding my diploma that wouldn't squeeze into my mailbox.
     That day or maybe the next, I drove home to Baton Rouge. I was brain-tired, but still ready to get going. So, I went deer hunting with a family friend. I didn't have a gun, a license or anything that said "deer," but everyone at home was out or busy and I had time to spare.. at least an afternoon.
     The Reader's Digest version of this story is: I sat in a deer stand somewhere near Baton Rouge on a cold, Louisiana evening. I had a borrowed gun, looked through a slit in the blind and just kind of "vegged" as we'd say back in the 1980s. I had absolutely no intention nor hope nor inclination to harvest a deer. I was 25 feet above the deck just to get away from the fast(ish) pace I'd been living the last few weeks before completing school.
     I never pulled the trigger, but still saw lots of deer. The stand overlooked a big field. I remember that I was in the trees, but before me was a meadow. That's the only way to describe it. I'm what's called 'red-green' color blind. But even I could see the intense green of this field below my feet. Off in the distance was a forest of trees... too far to see details, but clear enough to see the thickness of the forage.
     "This is pretty good stuff. I've finished college," I said to myself. "I'm sittin up here just lookin around and it doesn't get much better than this."
     Then, something moved. Granted it was at least 200-300 yards away, but something definitely moved. Then, something else moved. And then, something else.
     The borrowed rifle had a scope, but even it didn't zoom in enough for a clear picture. "Man, this thing's got to have a zoom on it," I thought. "Find a zoom, maybe you'll see what's moving out there," I said in my head.
    The scope did have a zoom. I figured out how it worked and then before my eyes, although hundreds of yards across the meadow, were two, maybe three dozen deer!
     I didn't even think about pulling the trigger. I rested the barrel through the blind slit for at least 30-minutes and peacefully did absolutely nothing.

Lubbock, Texas, Today

     I hadn't thought of Ada or Oklahoma lately. But today while on a run for car repairs in Lubbock I had about three hours of driving time to remember those first news days back in 1988.
     We, Teresa and I, had to go to a real city because we bought one of those new-fangled cars with a strange name (Kia) that unbeknownst to us at purchase time came with some unexpected issues. In this case, the diversion was simply taking off the tires to check for a couple leaks.
     We left early this morning and drove to the dealership because we bought a gently used car that somehow didn't include the special key to unlock the fancy wheels on the foreign car. That's probably not a faux pas any small town dealership would make, but still... it couldn't be remedied in our town.
     We had breakfast at The Pancake House, not so good by the way. We did our usual shopping at a real city grocery and then went back and waited for the fancy car. Believe it or not, even the dealership that dropped the ball in the first place, didn't have just plain-Jane lug nuts to put on the car. So, we waited another 30-minutes or so.
     This may sound silly to anyone reading who lives in a town/city with more than 25-thousand plus people. But when you live in a small town, there are many, many things you simply can't enjoy unless you go to a real city.... like Lubbock or in our case Midland, Abilene, San Angelo, etc. For example, there were more eating options in a two block area in Lubbock than we have in all of our little slice of America. Granted a KFC next to a Wienerschnitzel isn't high dining, but that's a lot of variety from our perspective.
     Then, we were back on the road to Snyder, America... The second hour and a half of our three hour drive for me to think about my news days memories.

Ada or Bust, Winter(ish) 1988

     Ada, Oklahoma is the county seat for Pontotoc county. That's pronounced PONT-o-TOC. It's home to the Chickasaw nation.
     I was hired as the bureau chief. Turns out, I was the bureau. We had a receptionist, Brenda. We had a master control man, Ed. And we had a commercial photographer, Jim. I was the sole reporter.
     I drove my own vehicle, a 1987 Red, Isuzu two door trooper. I was given a KTEN-TV magnet to put on the red Isuzu.
     My first day to report to work I couldn't find my keys. Turns out that I'd left them in my apartment door and my neighbor took them as a prank.
     My first story was a reader (no video) with Ada's Chamber of Commerce president. Unfortunately, I mis-quoted him, had to dig the story out from the garbage and immediately write a correction and apology.
     I screamed and cussed so much while editing my first story that Ed, the master control operator, said "My, you have quite a mouth."
     I had a date at "Bandana's," probably like an Applebees these days. Those days, you could smoke inside at your table. I was and still am a smoker. I lit my cigarette in a flashy, cool way by striking the book matches one handed, (a Camelia Grill waiter in NOLA taught me this trick) all the while keeping up my stellar conversation.

     "Bill," she said.
     "Yes."
     "You're on fire."
     "What?"
     "You're on fire. The spark off your match landed in the cuff of your shirt."

     One burnt shirt. One bruised ego. I was off to a good start.

Snyder Later Today

     Geez! As I write some of this stuff, I get that embarrassed shake that rattles my head till my jowls wiggle.
      Even though the rain's finally falling here in an overwhelmingly dry west Texas.. something we need so badly... those 'poof' memories that have no business popping up, still creep back into perfect vision.

Bill Robertson, Ada to Ardmore. Oklahoma is Ok!