Storms of the Past

Several days have passed since the Christmas Eve Blizzard of 2009 but there is still ice and snow on the ground, another snowstorm predicted for later in the week. When I first moved to Oklahoma City, cold weather and snow was common. This year’s snowstorm is a rare occurrence and reminded me of some of the storms from my past.

After divorcing my first wife, it took a while before we sold our house. I wanted to move into an apartment complex called Woodlake that featured multiple swimming pools, tennis courts, both inside and out, racquetball courts, weight rooms and many, many singles. Not unexpectedly, it was full and there was a waiting list so I moved to another complex.

The apartments where I moved still exist. When I was there, the name was Chandalaque. I lived on the bottom floor of the two story complex and soon learned that it had little, if any insulation. Not only was it cold and drafty, you could almost hear a pin drop in the neighboring apartments. The winter that I lived at Chandalaque, snow covered the ground for what seemed like months. I remember because the complex sat off the road in an incline and I would have to help people get out of the icy parking lot every morning.

Chandalaque was across the street from Deaconess Hospital and many nurses lived there. My bedroom wall abutted the bedroom wall of one such nurse. She was blonde and pretty and had lots of male friends. At all hours of the day and night, her bedstead would begin banging against the wall, rocking my own bed, her moans of pleasure awakening me and usually preventing me from returning to sleep – at least quickly. I don’t know if she knew that I was an unwitting participant to her sexual activity and doubt that she cared even if she did.

Fresh out of my marriage, self esteem began slowly seeping back into my body. In the days of disco and before AIDS, easy sex and one-night-stands were common and I soon had female company of my own, giving the nurse a taste of her own medicine. I only lived at the complex for six months. I never met the nurse but she always frowned when we passed on the sidewalk.

No matter how deep the snow, it always melts when spring arrives. When my lease expired, I learned there was an apartment available at Woodlake. Renting a U-Haul truck, I backed up to my door and began loading, not worrying how I would extricate my couch and bed without help. Before I got that far, my close friend Mickey arrived. Maybe it was ESP because he knew I needed assistance and I had not called him – at least by phone.

Years have passed since that snowy winter spent in a drafty apartment complex behind the world’s horniest nurse. As I glance out my kitchen window and see the two feet of snow still on the ground in my backyard, I think about Chandalaque and it makes me smile.

Eric'sWeb

Bar Hopping With the Old Man

I visit my dad at least once a week and I try to take him somewhere every Sunday, usually to a seafood restaurant overlooking Lake Hefner because he likes watching the sailboats and seagulls. This past Sunday, I decided to take him to a new place.

Lake Hefner is a large, manmade lake that supplies Oklahoma City with fresh water. Because of the prevailing winds, it is perhaps the best inland sailing lake in the United States. I can attest to as much after spending an exhilarating afternoon on a super-fast catamaran with my friend David Beatty. It is also the deepest lake in Oklahoma, nearly a hundred feet in places. This past Sunday, I decided to take Dad to another restaurant on the lake.

There are at least three Louie’s restaurants in Oklahoma City and Edmond, one less than a mile from my office. My friends Jerry and Terry and I go there almost every Thursday after work, the food and drink tasty and relatively inexpensive, the friendly female waitpersons always easy on the old eyes. Since I had never tried Louie’s on the lake, I took Dad there last Sunday.

Dad and I sat in the bar area, looking out the large picture window at passing joggers, walkers and cyclists, and the gorgeous inland lake. We ordered chips and dip. I had a Sam Adam’s beer while Dad drank decaf. As I sat on the high bar stool, looking at my smiling father, obviously having a great time, I thought about the absurdity of the moment.

My Mom was, and Dad still is a teetotaler. Both disapproved vociferously their wayward son when he was placed on disciplinary probation as a sophomore in college for drinking beer in the dorm. Neither ever tried alcohol, much less frequented a bar. Seeing the confusion in Dad’s eyes made me grin as I finished my Sam Adams and paid the tab.

Eric'sWeb

White Coyotes and Other Ghostly Specters

Barely October, central Oklahoma’s weather has already turned chilly and misty – perfect Halloween weather. As a Halloween baby – well, almost, I was born on the 30th – I love this time of year. As a writer, I feel like penning a few ghost stories. No time for a full-blown short story, but I will tell you my inspiration for one when I get around to writing it.

Marilyn and I live on the southeast edge of Edmond, America. Unlike much of Oklahoma, Edmond is hilly and has many large trees. Creeks dissect the hills and many wild animals populate these creeks. The other night, I saw a particular animal outside my front door that you wouldn’t believe, even if I had managed to grab my trust camera and snap a picture before it ran away.

I feed my cats in the front yard and they don’t always finish their food. I know, I know - I can already sense my email heating up with veterinarians and other animal professionals telling me what an idiot that I am. Yes, I know about rabies but I love seeing these wild creatures up close. Last night I saw a wild creature that I didn’t expect.

It was a coyote, yes a coyote and not a fox or a dog. My cat Fang didn’t seem to notice, or to care, as the coyote ate cat food from his dish. Maybe he didn’t notice because the coyote was solid white. The animal either didn’t know that I was observing it through my storm door, or else didn’t care.

Not twenty feet away, I watched as the beast finished the cat food in the bowl, glanced around to see if anyone was near, and then disappeared into the darkness.

Was it a ghost coyote? I don’t think so. I saw it and so did my dogs in their nearby fenced area. They never stopped barking. Still, the coyote was ghostly white.

Barely October, our weather is already chilly and misty, and I am wondering what other specters of the night I will see before Halloween. I can hardly wait.

Gondwana

Murder in OKC

When I moved to Oklahoma City in 1973, the downtown area was a victim of urban sprawl. Many stores and businesses had moved out of the City’s original area for the more affluent outlying neighborhoods. Downtown OKC had long since fallen into disarray and disrepair. There was no new construction, no new businesses and little sentiment to revive this crumbling portion of Oklahoma City.

Like other cities, OKC had its skid row. In the seventies, and to a large extent today, beggars, panhandlers, winos, prostitutes and runaways congregated in an area near the downtown bus station. Hotels, many built shortly after the beginning of the city, remained along the Reno Avenue corridor. Most were run down, shabby, and homes for gamblers and prostitutes. One of these hotels was the Tivoli Inn on W. Sheridan Avenue.

The Tivoli was built in 1922 as a grand hotel. It went through several transformations but in October of 1972 it had degenerated into little more than a flophouse for transients taking a detour off I-40, one of the interstate highways that bisect the city. On October 13, 1972, the desk clerk of the hotel met her untimely death.

I hadn’t yet moved to Oklahoma in 1972 but I remember hearing about the murder of Phyllis Jean Daves. Daves, age 49, was the desk clerk at the Tivoli Inn the night of her death. According to accounts in the Daily Oklahoman, she was beaten, robbed and strangled to death.

On October 13, 1972 (yes, it was Friday) she was dragged into the elevator and apparently still fighting for her life when she and her attacker reached the sixth floor. Her nude body was found under a bed in room 607 and rape was likely attempted but never consummated. Two former employees of the Tivoli Inn were suspected but later cleared of the crime when they failed to provide a match to bloody hand prints held as evidence.

I remember hearing stories of blood covering the lobby walls from the horrific struggle that ensued. The crime remains cold, never solved. Urban renewal of downtown Oklahoma City began in earnest during the latter seventies, the Tivoli Inn razed in 1979 to make room for the Myriad Gardens.

Nothing remains today of the old Tivoli Inn but memories and some old photographs. Most Oklahomans don’t even remember it, nor does anyone remember Phyllis Jean Daves, or worry much about who killed her, or why.

Eric's Website