California Once More
It took nine days and more than 2,000 miles, but we are back home in Madera County and happy to be here. Our long driving trek from Ames to Madera was exhilarating, fattening and, ultimately, wearying — and it was immensely rewarding.
We left Ames on Thursday, June 23, and headed down I-35 to our first stop — Ankeny, only a few miles away. We had lunch with good friends Cliff and Cindy at a very fine cafe — bid them farewell — then drove to Independence, Missouri — just outside Kansas City — to spend the night. The next day, we drove into the parking lot of the newly renovated Harry Truman Presidential Library just as a gigantic thunderstorm started hurling rain and thunder and lightning all around us. We stayed in our black rental SUV until it let up — and were still there when word came out that the U.S. Supreme Court had done away with Roe v. Wade. Yes, that was quite a day, indeed. By the way, the Truman Library is magnificent.
We overnighted in Wichita on Friday and had breakfast with Al and Sally Buch the next morning at one of their (and now, our) favorite spots. Al was news director at KPNX-TV in Phoenix, and I was lucky enough to be one of his hires. 
He was, simply, the best boss I’ve ever had. Now, whenever Sharon and I are on the road in or near Wichita, we make a point of dropping by to share good food and great stories with this fine couple.
After leaving the Buchs, we made our way to Pawhuska, Oklahoma. This is a town right out of the early 20th century, and it’s been made famous in this 21st century by the Pioneer Woman. You’ve likely heard of her because EVERYONE — except me — knows about Ree Drummond because of her TV show and her books and her blogsite. Ree and her husband live on lots of land just outside Pawhuska, and they’ve made it their mission to restore the town to its early-day look. They’ve succeeded. They have made Pawhuska an attractive stop for tourists like us.
But our reason for going was not to bask in the Pioneer Woman’s reflected glory. It was for Sharon to meet — for the first time — one of her first cousins who lives nearby. And as soon as Robbie walked into the restaurant, it was obvious from their physical similarities that she and Sharon were related. The rest of the afternoon played out as you might expect — Robbie and Sharon talked a whole lot about family history — while the rest of us (Robbie’s partner, her son, his wife and two children and I) — mostly just stayed out of the way. It was a marvelous and emotional visit.
Sunday morning found the two of us in Tulsa where we toured the Philbrook Museum of Art. Suffice it to say, if you’re ever in Tulsa, you should stop and see the museum’s glorious contents and lovely grounds.
You should also plan to eat a tasty barbecue lunch at this place we found called Smoke, in the delightful old Cherry Street district of Tulsa. And if you appreciate history — which is, of course, full of good and bad — don’t miss the Greenwood district of Tulsa. In 1921, it was known as America’s successful “Black Wall Street.” Then a white mob attacked the area, burned it down, and killed between 75 and 300 people, destroying about 1,000 homes along the way. It was one of the worst massacres in the history of U.S. race relations.
Monday found us in Oklahoma City and the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. If you’re in Oklahoma City, you need to go to the museum. 
End of story. It’s the best collection of western artwork and sculptures anywhere, and that’s just the beginning. The museum has Old West town streets and businesses, stagecoaches, cowboy firearms and much more. The adjacent image is the great Buffalo Bill statue on the museum grounds, and you’ll also see the amazing and evocative End of the Trail sculpture — that portrayal of a weary Native American on his tired horse as they come to the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Just go see it.
Monday night found us in Amarillo. Enough said. On Tuesday, we continued on the I-40 toward Albuquerque, but veered off onto a section of the old Route 66 to make our way through Tucumcari, New Mexico. It was mostly a sad sight. Once I-40 was built near the old 66, everything along the old route withered. The old motels there have such now politically incorrect names as the Pow Wow Inn and the Apache Motel, and it’s hard to imagine a time when those names were acceptable.
We overnighted in lovely Albuquerque — traversed its historic Central Avenue — then continued our westward trek on the 40 on Wednesday. Along the way, there were plenty of scenic mesas and buttes — almost pretty enough to make you want to live around those parts. We stopped for lunch at our favorite spot in fabulous Flagstaff, Arizona — a place we had enjoyed before because of its plentiful pizzas and delightful dining on a deck surrounded by pine trees. Between Flagstaff and Kingman, we were lucky to miss several lightning-and-thunder events all around us — though we stayed on the lookout because there were all kinds of flash-flood warnings along the interstate.
And for the first time on our trip, we found a listenable over-the-air radio station — KAHM in Prescott. It played soothing music from the 70’s and 80’s, as opposed to the many brands of country music we’d been subjected to for much of our trek. Don’t get me wrong — I think country tunes are fine. I just don’t want to hear them.
To wrap this baby up — we spent Wednesday night in Kingman — then drove through the desert and quickly passed through Mohave and Tehachapi to Bakersfield, where our motel proudly displayed the sign you see at the top of this story. We were, indeed, happy to be back in our Golden State. Yes, we have plenty of problems here — including high gas prices ($6.88 in Bakersfield, compared with the $4.30 a gallon in Ames) — drought — the threat of wildfires — you name it. Lots of folks don’t like California, and some — including friends of ours — have left.
Well, to this, we say “to each their own.” For us, there’s enough magic — the nearby mountains and Yosemite and the Pacific Coast and easily accessible Los Angeles and San Francisco with all their culture and sports — to make us think — to know — we’re lucky to be here.