Living and going to school in New York means constantly meeting new people. 99 times out of 100 the next exchange is telling each other where you’re from. Telling New Yorkers that I’m from Oklahoma usually results in either a blank smile or a shocked withdrawal. The first reaction I follow up with “Oklahoma - the state north of Texas.” The second reaction forces me to explain that contrary to most long-held beliefs, there are more than Native Americans, buffalo, and tepee villages (but I don’t tell them that we’ve only made it as far as oil, diabetes, and casinos). At some point during this exchange I’ll try to name-drop Tulsa in there, hoping these erudite and cultured folks have heard of my beloved home town. They haven’t. The next few lines of the exchange are me extolling the virtues of Tulsa as a pocket of arts, culture, and classiness tucked away in the Midwest. By the end of the meetings I try to have made it clear - this Tulsa place is special and unlike anyplace else.

“How do you know?” you ask. Because its home. Because I can find my way anywhere and get there avoiding main streets. Because people I haven’t seen in 15 years have heard from my parents that I’m home and will not be happy until they’ve seen me. Because I can walk into someplace I’ve never been and be certain to see a familiar face. Because I can get off a plane at 10:45pm, be chauffeured to my parent’s new house, walk in expecting to unwind and decompress only to have 12 of my favorite people leap out yelling “surprise!” Ma & Pa moved into this new place over the summer. I liked it fine but it wasn’t home. Home is sitting empty about 2 miles north. I expected a month of unease at calling this new structure “home.” But upon arrival that all changed. The house was warm, alive, and full of practically everyone I could have asked for, and a beautiful Christmas tree glowed in the background. It was as though anything wrong i the world or less joyful than that scene could not ever exist. There was too much to be happy about and thankful for.

Now that I’ve been here a few weeks the usual questions have begun to sprout up: “how’s the city?” and “when/will you come back?” The answers are “it’s a lot like the dog from Sandlot - scary at first, but eventually revealed to be lovable and friendly,” and “later, probably.” Before that happens there’s still much to be done.

By my count I now have 4.5 years  to achieve 3 tasks:

-The Parent Project
-Publish a story, play, or screenplay
-Travel to Africa, Asia, Australia, and Antarctica

And standing immediately in the way of completion is the huge boulder known as school. Its not so bad - comes with some mighty good people, interesting lessons, and daily opportunities to feel brain cells multiplying. But there’s an obligation I feel to complete the goals I set for myself, long before I decided to go be a city mouse. Baby steps, I suppose.

With the 10+ days I have left in the glorious Midwest I’ll chisel away where I can - a list of books for The Parent Project, gathering thoughts upon which to craft a story, and checking out my school’s study abroad options! Thereafter its off to 5 days of good living in the subtropical climate of Los Angeles, with a devastatingly gorgeous hostess: Hannah Miller. I love discovering new places with lovely people. There’s work to be done. Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep, Conquering, holding, daring, venturing, as we go, the unknown ways. Then back to the East Coast and a second semester of school.

2010 was good, and 2011 is shaping up to be even better. There’s no need to hear me bellyache so if you do shoot me a dirty look or remind me that I come from a great place, have the best people one could ask for, live in an amazing city, and have a bright future drawing closer each day.

The 7x7 is creeping along and updates may not happen with much more regularity than an 89yr old man experiences, but fear not! As the feats are accomplished you will be one of the first to hear!

So long and see you soon.