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Tag Archives: OKC Dining Out

Life after Bobo’s

28 Monday Dec 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Bobo's Chicken, Everyday Life, Journalism, OKC, OKC Dining Out, The Daily

Bobo's Chicken

Until last September, I had never heard of Bobo’s Chicken.  I didn’t know about the red trailer parked a few miles from my house  where six were injured in a drive-by shooting in August  2008.  I didn’t know any legitimate business  opened only on weekends between the hours of 8pm and 4 am.  Most of all, I didn’t know my son Kyle had been asked by The Daily — the OU student-run newspaper —  to show up at  Bobo’s at 2 AM to find a story.  Sometimes it’s good to live life in a protective bubble.

Even before the shootings, the area surrounding  Bobo’s weekend trade was reputed for having high crime.  It’s the  area where my brother once purchased his cocaine.  It’s the part of town where my husband and I paid $600 to get my brother’s car out of hock — even though the business front was a car repair shop, we  had more than a hunch that  the business was little more than a pawn shop for drug addicts in need of cash.  What else can I say but that it’s the sort of area many would think twice about going to — especially at 2 am in the morning.

Kyle wrote what I understand was a tongue-in-cheek story about his Bobo’s experience.  Kyle’s editor called the article, “Chicken To Die For”. Before it was published in The Daily’s on-line edition, the story went through a round of reviews.   I never read the story since  it was pulled within hours of being published.  But I painfully read every letter to the editor, most  which  held no punches in raining down judgment  on Kyle.

There’s plenty of right and wrong to go around when mistakes happen.  But when the chips fall, people do tend to scatter and deflect.  I’m sure Kyle made mistakes.  But I’m also sure that The Daily staff and its sponsors made mistakes too, just as I know that mistakes in judgment were made by everyone who took Kyle to task without knowing ALL the facts…or importantly, the state of Kyle’s mind and heart.

This is not  a defense of Kyle or even an attempt to tell Kyle’s story.  Kyle has publicly apologized and told his own story in the second article he wrote about Bobo’s, which The Daily published (under pressure) a few weeks ago.

Instead, this is a story behind the story; it’s a story of a mom who watched her son go through the worst point of his life without power to help.  I was sad and shaken.  I feared Kyle might  never write again, and I knew that would be a real loss, since writing has been all my son has ever wanted to do.  Even at seven years of age, Kyle was  writing stories complete with maps- a la Tolkien — which he stapled together like books.

It is good then, that Kyle had two caring mentors to steer Kyle through this mess.  Had these two not stood by to cheer Kyle on, the second story would never have been written or published.  I am indebted to both whom Kyle publicly names in his second article.

Not all of the letters to the editor in response to the second article were positive.  But most were.  Most appreciated how tough it was for Kyle to go back to the place where a mistake had been made so that amends could be attempted.

Best of all, there’s some gravy to follow the Bobo’s Chicken story:  Kyle now knows more about who he is and what he stands for after writing both stories about Bobo’s.   And here are the three (a)sides:

  • One, the Dean of O.U.’s Journalism School stopped one of Kyle’s mentors in the hallway to say he found Kyle’s second article deserving of an award nomination.
  • Two, Kyle now has an internship at a highly regarded local newspaper; his Bobo’s experience primed him for the spot in ways that I cannot begin to describe and in other ways that I’ll never know.
  • Three, my husband and I are taking Kyle out to dinner tonight to celebrate Kyle’s first day on the job.  Bobo’s would be our obvious choice; but as it’s Monday, we’re forced to eat at another fine dining establishment.  I’m pretty sure Kyle would have liked Bobo’s just fine.

The Good Old Days

09 Monday Nov 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

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Tags

Birthdays, Carly Simon, Cattlemen's Steak House, Coming Aroung Again, Everyday Life, OKC Dining Out, Parents, Raising Children, Writing

My husband and I paused everyday life last night to mark the birthday of my first-born.  I’ve been a mother thirty-one years now; if you’re wondering, it seems every bit of thirty-one years, as I think on all the intervening events that have marked the passage of time.

We enjoyed a fine dinner in a nostalgic red leather booth at Cattleman’s Steakhouse, Oklahoma’s only claim to fame in the travel book, 1000 Places to See Before you Die. 1000 things Life does have a way of coming fast and furious, especially in your thirty-something years.  By day Kate is a full-time nurse.  By night and day, Kate juggles the competing demands of wants and needs that come with a family of six.

As I listened to her talk, I was struck by how similar Kate’s life was to mine at her age.  Newly married for the second time, her challenging career, her challenging home life with all the children’s activities — well, it’s enough to lose sleep over.  And Kate does.  She mentioned at dinner that she was unable to sleep the night before;  ironically, Kate was watching a television show on travel destinations in the middle of the night.

Though I suffer my fair share of sleepless nights, it’s worse to imagine your children fighting the same battle.   Usually, after an hour of tossing and turning, I get up to read a little.  Or like tonight, when my head is so full of thoughts of Mom’s storage shed and Kate’s birth night, I find it best just to release the spinning thoughts and anchor them to a line of words.  It’s an act of discipline, as if to write is to mutter sleepily….”Now stop your whining.”

I always lost sleep towards the end of a pregnancy.  My mother was living six hours south when I went into labor on a Wednesday night thirty-one years ago.  Kate was born early Thursday morning  — 1:28 am to be precise — and I recall being so tired and sore after it was all over, all I wanted to do was sleep.  Had it not been for the nurses who came in to check on this or that, I would have. 

My parents and sister arrived soon after Kate’s birth.  And Mom stayed behind a week to help me ease into my motherhood groove.  I’ll never forget those first days with Mom and Kate; even now, I can see Mom busy working in the kitchen, helping me with all the laundry  — how can one little baby cause so much dirty laundry?  —  and when all the work was done, Mom kept her hands busy by making a few crafts, including a nice big Christmas stocking for Kate.

I take out the memory of those days again and hold it up to the light.  How young my mother was then — both of us really, though it didn’t seem so with Mom now a grandmother and me now a mother.  Why is it that we never quite see life as it really is, while we are in the midst of living it?  Why does the passage of time and hindsight make the past more clear and even more precious? 

These thoughts remind me of a few words from a Carly Simon tune where she continues to refrain that these are the good old days.  These are words I need to hear and bear in mind as I continue to live my everyday life.  These are the good old days.

Yet, as good as the message is, it’s not a ‘just right’ fit for Kate’s 31st birthday and where she is in life.  Instead, I offer a variation on the same theme, from another Carly tune that I think she’ll recognize.  The words of this song, published in my 31st year, remind that if we’re willing to play the game of LIFE, that second and third chances happen; that the best kind of travel is our own time travel though life; and that seasons and reason to celebrate are always coming around again.  Just like a string of birthdays.

But in the meantime, I hope Kate relishes this one.  Because from where I sat, this birthday is already a good old day.

Simple Hospitality

24 Saturday Oct 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, Mesta Park, Soul Care

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Everyday Life, Life Cereal, Life Lessons, Mesta Park, OKC Dining Out, Soul Care

Last night we completed our first season of Moveable Feasts, where once a month, we take time to convene family around a dinner table.  As the name suggests, this family feast is on the move; it has places to go and food to taste with our only constant being the group of familiar faces gathered together.  

Blog_09_1024

February at Mesta Park: Maddie shines as "Hostess with the Mostess"

Each month the host changes — each of our children and their mates, plus my husband, his mother and I take turns playing host.  This adds up to ten months of moveable feasts, with two months off in November and December, when the holidays naturally bring us together.  This year we’ve eaten our way through one brunch, two lunches and seven suppers, involving two home-cooked meals and dining out at seven restaurants across the Oklahoma City area and one old saloon in Okarche.  It was a strange stew of Italian, Indian, Cajun, Brazilian, Chinese and mouth-watering Southern fried chicken.  

It was my idea to do this, my way of  bridging the widening gap between my best dreams — having all my chicks home every Saturday night in my Mesta Park nest — and my worst nightmares — never seeing the faces of my flown-the-coop children again.  But unexpectedly, what began as a gap closing measure may have turned out to be better than my best dreams.  Because no longer am I slaving away in the kitchen to feed eleven to fifteen hungry appetites.  No longer am I in charge of aligning the moon and the stars in hopes of gathering six family units together at the same time and place.  And best of all — no longer am I in charge of resolving that age-old question:  What should I fix for dinner?

And guess what?  Just like that old Life cereal commercial that sprang out of the 1960’s, which featured little Mikey and his skeptical-of-Life big brothers — just like Mikey who faithfully tried and liked his bite of Life  —  my family tried the Moveable Feast and… they liked it.  They liked it so much that they are ready to do it all over again.  It may take us different places perhaps, but always with the same faces — and the possiblity of one more if my son Kyle is so moved.

This year’s final act was to write down ten months on a napkin, tear them into pieces and take turns drawing.  And so goes life and the lessons it brings, even if it’s just relearning the same old lessons; home-spun goodies like the simpler the bettter and hospitality begins at home.

But being the contemplative that I am, I ponder now on what personal lesson I gained from this spiritiual exercise of letting go.  Ultimately, of course, it’s a who-but-God-knows.  But for now, perhaps it’s this simple:  When I relax my grip to release my best dream, I open my hand to receive the best that real life has to offer.  One bite at a time.

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