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July 4.
The day's agenda started with a 45-minute drive to Brownsville to check out the city's Independence Day parade.
By the time I parked and walked four blocks into the historic downtown district, the parade was somewhere in the back half.
As I stood at the corner and took in my surroundings, I realized we three gringos from Tulsa were the only non-Hispanics within view.
Read moreIt turns out you shouldn't always rely on Google Maps.
Tuesday morning we went on a hunt for the river. The Rio Grande serves as a natural boundary between Texas and Mexico. It's an area where there is no wall for many miles in either direction.
I drove down a dirt path that Google stated is a public road. It was extremely narrow. No room for two cars. There were times when I had to slowly, and barely, dodge major ruts. The Stooges' "No Fun" played on the stereo as I half-joked we were going to drive up on a bad situation or encounter Border Patrol.
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Tomorrow, I'll travel south to the Mexican border.
First stop is McAllen, Texas. Then it's on to Brownsville.
While there, I will be documenting what it's like to be in the home of the largest immigration detention center for boys 10-17.
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I was probably pooping here.
When I entered the world, my dad was a juvenile delinquent.
He was well known by police in two states stretching from San Antonio to Lawton, Oklahoma. There are so many stories (many I’m certain I still don’t know).
I mean, he was a 17-year-old high school dropout when he became a dad.
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One of my mom's campsites located in north Tulsa. Just out of the frame is a house owned by a felon, who allows homeless to stay on his property for a daily fee of $5 or a pack cigarettes or some food.
So you're homeless.
You've hit rock bottom. You've burned every bridge. Eviscerated every relationship.
You feel alone, worthless, anxious, depressed, disappointed, helpless.
There are days you wish you could curl into a ball and just die.
Read moreThree days ago I posted about my mom being homeless. Within the blog I opened up about my feelings and shared info about her mental health. It was the first time I revealed to the world what I had been going through for 36 years. Previously there were only a handful of people who knew some of that.
I expected the blog to be read by some people. I wasn't ready for what happened.
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My mom around six months after I was born.
The above picture is my second favorite all time of my mom.
She's 14 enjoying a book. She's beautiful.
I was around six months old then.
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Carl Landes in the late 40s when he entered the Army.
Five months ago my grandpa, Carl Landes, passed away. He was a war hero, who served in the Korean and Vietnam Wars.
Today I'm honoring him on Memorial Day by sharing the written version of the eulogy I delivered at his memorial service. I would go on to do a second eulogy at his assisted living center's service the following day. It was quite a bit different than this version.
The service started with a short welcome and then the color guard played taps and performed the 21-gun salute. I nearly lost it, and it was my turn to talk.
Read moreThis morning I had to go by the vet's office and spend $100,000,000 on two flea and tick pills for the dogs.
I craved Old School Bagel. I thought I might grab it while running to the vet. Of course I knew the one in my neighborhood would have a line into the street. I will not idle on Peoria half a block away to go through the drive-through. I always imagine sitting there waiting for my bagel breakfast sandwich and coffee then getting plowed from behind and dying. That would be a bad way to go out. How did Tim die? Waiting in his car for a bagel.
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A mural painted by McLain students as part of a project by Disrupt, a local non-profit.
I love public art. I stare in awe every time I see a new piece pop up in Tulsa.
Go to cities like Philadelphia and Detroit, where the governments have funded projects, and you can see amazing installations that stretch for 10-20 stories into the sky. Maybe more. (I smell another future blog post.)
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