James M. Redwine

Texas

Palo Duro Canyon

by Leave a Comment

Rim of Palo Duro Canyon. Photo by Peg Redwine

Georgia O’Keeffe (1887-1986) called Palo Duro Canyon a seething cauldron filled with dramatic light and color. Her series of paintings of the canyon while she was teaching art in nearby Canyon, Texas helped make O’Keeffe the founder of American Modernism. When you visit Palo Duro Canyon you will experience the same awe-inspiring explosion of colliding shades of red and grey Georgia did. Thousands of prickly pear cacti appear throughout the 120 mile long, 6 mile wide and 800 feet deep masterpiece of Mother Nature’s artwork. The tiny stream of the Prairie Dog Town Fork Red River that with the wind’s help has spent millions of years carving out the gigantic natural wonder seems woefully inadequate for such an accomplishment.

Palo Duro Canyon is in the panhandle of Texas near the cities of Canyon and Amarillo. It is easy to find, easy to access and costs $8.00 to enter. It has been inhabited by humans for thousands of years and evidences another of those marvelous Civilian Conservation Corps infrastructure improvements from the pre-World War II years. My experience with the quality of CCC projects throughout America convinces me the generation that saved the world got much of its resilience from their survival of the Great Depression and their training gained through the Corps.

From the Floor of Palo Duro Canyon. Photo by Peg Redwine

While one can certainly absorb a large measure of reverie just slowly driving through and around the canyon, the most symbiotic experience is gained by hiking some of the 16 “marked” trails that range in length from .5 to 4.4 miles. That is what Peg and I did on November 23, 2021. We started out with the mildest one we could find then matriculated to the Sunflower Trail upon which not a sunflower was to be found. We did find the coursing little “river” at the heart of the floor of the canyon and we found red sand-stoned embankments glittering with striations of white shale. We also got in touch with our Daniel Boone muse for about two confusing hours.

Daniel Boone may have opened up the Wilderness Trail and served in Congress but even he, while denying he was ever lost, admitted he was once “bewildered” for 3 days. And while my admiration and appreciation for the CCC boys is boundless, they may not have been the best at signage. As Peg and I wandered around the rocky, sandy trails I kept hearing the Five Man Electrical Band singing “Signs, signs, everywhere signs”. My respectful suggestion to the Palo Duro Park rangers is, please remember some of your guests may be directionally challenged and some husbands just refuse to ask for directions. Hey, did Daniel Boone ask?

Anyway, we eventually located our car and got to see even more of the marvelous flora and fauna in the process. If you are looking for a spiritual reawakening or just a short trip of inexpensive inspiration, I recommend you consider what is called the Little Grand Canyon. It is certainly grand and it is certainly not little.

Photo by Jim Redwine

The Play’s The Thing

by Leave a Comment

Charles Constantine was a Greek immigrant who relocated to Pawhuska, Osage County, Oklahoma in 1905. Charles bought the Pawhuska House Hotel that had been opened in the 1880’s and he converted the business to the Constantine Theater in 1914. After Constantine sold the theater in 1926 it was renamed the Kihekah Theater. It operated as a movie house from 1926 until it closed in 1981. It has been beautifully restored by the community and once again serves the public as The Constantine Theater. Numerous volunteers have donated money and countless hours of their time to preserving this iconic community asset. The Constantine will be open to the public free of charge for several hours during the Cavalcade Rodeo weekend of July 16th to 17th, 2021. The Redwine family will be having a family reunion jam session, art exhibit and new book launching event during parts of each day and The Constantine will open its concession stand also.

Mr. Constantine was furthering the Greek theater tradition that began with the western world’s first theater about 500 B.C. It was located in Athens, Greece on the side of the high hill upon which the Acropolis was built and it was named in honor of the Greek god of wine, Dionysus. Playwrites such as Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides and Aristophanes began the ancient tradition of entertainment and enlightenment that carries on to today. Along the way such giants of literature as William Shakespeare in England drew upon the wisdom of those marvelous Greeks. Shakespeare’s theater, The Globe, in London is where Hamlet, Act II, scene 2, said “The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.” Hamlet used a play within a play to expose his uncle’s murder of Hamlet’s father. Human nature has often been examined through art but sometimes art is just for fun; not every play is a tragedy. The weekend of July 16th & 17th is to be one of the lighter variety.

The Constantine has been the scene of countless performances over the years and Peg and I were honored to have been invited to exhibit our homemade movie and preview our historical novel JUDGE LYNCH! at the first Ben Johnson, Jr. Film Festival that was held at The Constantine Theater June 11, 2011. Our new novel Unanimous for Murder is a sequel to JUDGE LYNCH!. We are looking forward to once again enjoying the historic atmosphere of the Constantine and maybe re-showing our 19-minute movie. We do not need any extras.

Pawhuska’s favorite son, Ben (Son) Johnson, won an academy award for his portrayal of the owner of the sole movie theater in a small Texas village. The movie, The Last Picture Show, was a metaphor for lost innocence and a declining town. When the theater in that small community closed the town died as did the hopes of its residents. But thanks to the efforts of numerous volunteers, Pawhuska’s theater remains vibrant and forward looking. As someone who grew up attending the Kihekah Theater countless times, it feels good to have it still be an integral part of our lives.

Maybe we will see you at The Constantine Theater July 16th or July 17th between 12 noon and 6 p.m.; an informal musical performance will take place between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. on July 17th. Admittance is free to all events.

The Armadillos Cometh

by Leave a Comment

Last week Peg and I drove down I-44 from the eastern edge of Missouri to the eastern edge of Oklahoma. We observed the remains of a few deer, several opossums, one or two raccoons and over one hundred dead armadillos on the roadside. The normal final position of an armadillo was on its scaled back with its clawed paws stuck straight up. Occasionally a beer can would be nestled among the claws. Frequently the carcasses were totally flat. This phenomenon occurred so often it became obvious people went out of their way to squash the critters. Such a violent reaction to the mere existence of the armadillos becomes understandable if one should have to deal with the creatures on a daily basis.

Gentle Reader, you probably grew up as I did encountering an armadillo only when you wandered through northern Mexico or, perhaps, southern Arizona, New Mexico, Texas or California. I recall being amused by the resemblance to something akin to a roly-poly dinosaur. And the sightings were so rare I was excited to come across one of the adorable little oddities of nature.

It was not until the beginning of the 21st century that I began to notice the evermore prevalent incursions of armadillos as they have migrated north, east and west. Peg, who was born in New York and reared in Indiana by way of Massachusetts, used to be amazed at the “little armored ones” as named by Spanish speaking peoples in South America. In fact, as we arrived last week to our cabin in North-East Oklahoma we almost ran over an armadillo waddling along the lane to our door.

“Oh, Jim, look, we have our very own armadillo!” I kept my thoughts to myself but they involved a shotgun.

The day after we arrived Peg was all excited to go to Lowe’s and purchase about $300.00 worth of plants such as herbs, vegetables and flowers. She worked all of one day planting, watering and protecting them from rabbits and deer with special fencing. Actually, Peg instructed me in this regard. Regardless, when we checked on the plants the next day every one had been clawed up by a “cute” armadillo looking for grubs, ants and worms.

Peg’s response was about like one might expect when asking Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi how much she planned to contribute to President Donald Trump’s 2020 re-election campaign. As this article will appear in several family-oriented newspapers I shall not quote Peg’s actual words other than the part where she asked, “Where’s your shotgun?”

Ohio State 13, I.U. 14 (Half Time)

by Leave a Comment

After treating me to 8 weeks of basic training in the Texas summer heat the United States Air Force extended the misery by subjecting me to Indiana University football. In 1963 the Air Force stationed me in Bloomington to learn Hungarian. First they gave me a Top Secret Security Clearance. Silly me, I thought the reason was to keep secrets from the Soviet Union. I discovered the only secret being protected was that there are two halves to a football game; I.U. often plays only the first.

From my first IU football game in 1963 through 7 years on campus up to last night, August 31, 2017, I have repeatedly had my hopes raised in the first half only to see them crushed on the shoals of reality. At least IU has often been inventive and original in finding ways to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

My most painful memory is the game we lost after it was over. Yes, over! What happened was Indiana went ahead with less than thirty seconds left to play and was so excited, and surprised, to be ahead the team started celebrating during the kickoff and the other team ran the kickoff back for a go-ahead touchdown as time ran out. That was the first IU game I saw. It was an omen, a harbinger, a curse.

On the other hand I have watched numerous football games where we led at half time. What is it about IU football and the second half? We often play well and smart and tough the first half then have to invent a way to lose in the second. Perhaps our approach has been misguided.

Indiana University is a fine academic institution with a beautiful campus and generous support from Hoosier taxpayers. We have smart students and even smarter professors and we require our football players to go to class. Maybe we should demand a rule change based upon the empirical evidence. I suggest we simply walk off the field at half time and not come back. Then such debacles as 13 (Ohio State) to 14 (IU) at the half will no longer turn into 49 to 21 at the end.

How To Carve An Elephant:

by Leave a Comment

Take a block of marble and chip away everything that isn’t an elephant. The same principle applies with chili made by Yankees.

When the United States Air Force stationed me at Indiana University to study Hungarian I arrived with a solid foundation in chili. My previous life had been pretty much confined to Oklahoma and Texas where chili was to cuisine as basketball was to Hoosiers. There was none of this nonsense that chili is to be eaten only in wintertime.

In the southwest we ate chili year round and all day long. Chili on eggs at breakfast. Chili poured in a bag of Fritos for snacks. Chili at wedding receptions. Chili at church potluck dinners. Bricks of frozen chili at scout camp.

Chili was a health food. It was served to colicky children and constipated seniors. If the ancient gods of the Greeks and Romans had discovered chili they would have looked askance at ambrosia. The true Land of Milk and Honey can be found in the chili parlors along the banks of the canal through downtown San Antonio.

So, Gentle Reader, you might grasp my befuddlement when I ate my first meal at Indiana University and saw a sign on the chow line announcing that chili and grilled cheese sandwiches were being served, but when the nice lady behind the counter handed me my bowl of “chili” it had large red and white things floating among the greasy gunk.

“Ma’am, I don’t know if you noticed but there’s some strange stuff in my bowl.”

“That’s chili.”

“Uh, it has red and white globs swimming in it.”

“Those are red kidney beans and macaroni.”

Then I met Peg who not only was from east of the Mississippi she was also a Yankee from above the Mason-Dixon Line. Fortunately for me, we got married before she ever cooked for me the first bowl of what she called “chili”. She added celery to the kidney beans and macaroni. At our home, a pot of chili calls for two pots now: one for the chili I make and one for whatever you call what Peg makes.

Over the years I have spent in this Hoosier heaven for everything but chili I have had friends serve me chili with tofu, eggs, potatoes, kidney beans, white beans, chicken, sugar, macaroni, spaghetti, and a lack of cayenne pepper. Enough! Chili is shredded beef or hamburger, browned then drained. Sautéed onions, water, salt, black pepper, chili powder, garlic, cumin, cayenne pepper, tomato sauce and, for some, chili beans are slowly added to the sizzling meat and then masa flour added at the very end to thicken the mixture. It is simmered for a minimum of two hours then served with Fritos or corn tortillas with hot sauce, preferably Tabasco, chopped raw onions and shredded cheese on the side. THAT IS ALL! That is chili!

(Folks, this is Peg. I’m the lucky person who gets to type and edit these Gavel Gamut articles. I just can’t let you get the wrong idea this time. I had never heard of chili with macaroni or spaghetti either until I moved to Hoosierdom! In Yankeeland we made our chili with browned and drained hamburger, kidney beans not chili beans, tomato sauce or tomato soup, a little bit of ketchup, chopped celery and onions, salt and pepper and maybe a dash of chili pepper if we felt daring. Chili is served with Saltine crackers, not Fritos. That’s the difference between Yankee chili and my Dear JJ’s southwestern chili!)