Hey there boys and girls, what will you be doing while the Huskers are trying mightily not to let history repeat itself Saturday afternoon against the Wildcats of Northwestern.
Perched on a rail in Memorial Stadium perhaps? At the very least you’ll be tuning in to the TV broadcast I bet. (Note to broadcast network: for the love of Pete do not inflict Matt Millen on us again this week. We’re begging here.)
None of that for the Moseleys though, no siree.
If the stars align and the gods are kind, Good Wife Norma, our shared mother and I will be drawing very near to magnificent Guthrie, Oklahoma, by kickoff time.
I say magnificent to give Guthrie the benefit of the doubt, however truth be told (a) I’ve never been there and (b) nothing remotely ‘magnificent’ about Oklahoma has revealed itself in my few excursions to and/or through the state.
I must stipulate to potential bias where Oklahoma is concerned in light of the fact one of those visits involved Army duty inside the wire of a military detention facility at Fort Sill in the early 70s.
But alas, as has become my habit again I exaggerate reality. It was actually fairly cushy duty … except for the narrowly averted inmate race riot. And now that I think about it there was that one suicide attempt when a NCO with a long and flawless military record jammed his hands down inside the back of his pants under a tight belt and leaped from a third story window head-first onto the asphalt below.
Seems back at his unit the poor fellow, in a flash that was all rage and no thought, punched out his commanding officer. The embarrassment of what he’d done was too much to bear for a proud military man well into making a career of it. We never learned if he survived.
Aside from that my experiences in Oklahoma have been in the main benign.
Now that I think about it there was a visit turned miserable by a toxic (now ex) daughter-in-law, although that angst-filled weekend was mitigated somewhat by pity for the sad reality that she couldn’t then - and still can’t - help herself.
The motivation for today’s drive to Guthrie is notably more pleasant. Mom, though 95 years old, is rarin’ to go pretty much any place at any time.
In this instance ‘any place’ is brother Brad and wife Ana’s home near Killeen, Texas, and ‘any time’ is two weeks.
So we get to spend a night there all over again when we return to fetch her home on the 19th.
Hey, wait just a doggone minute here. Maybe we could put a nice spin on this and take in a Guthrie High School game on those Saturday nights. Volleyball perhaps. Tennis or softball maybe.
I can almost hear us now, “Here we go Bluejays, here we go!”