Of Sidewalk Musicians & Sore Mucles

  Last weekend we drove the flat, boring 73 miles to Oklahoma City, and somehow ended up in a magical, almost whimsical, bit of forgotten life. Downtown OKC seems like a million miles away from the normal, dirty, gang-ridden downtown scene.

  El and I wandered through the narrow streets, listening to the clip-clip-clip of hooves against the brick-paved roads, the high-pitched ringing of bicycle bells, the low rush of water as bright yellow gondolas passed underneath our bridge. There's a tall red-head in a black velvet dress playing violin on the street corner. She has quite a crowd gathered around her, and her small son, dressed in a mini- tuxedo and top hat, is playing with the coins left by appreciative listeners. Just past her is a lanky bicycle-carriage driver. Judging by his passenger’s curious looks and whispers, his dread-locked hair and big smile are fascinating to them. White lights are reflecting off the river beneath us, where a guitarist is singing and couples stroll down the sidewalk with eyes only for each other.

  We stand there for what seems like hours, until El gently tugs on my hand and reminds me that we both need some sleep.

  By the next morning the magical remainders of our night have long vanished, now replaced with a crazy, silly, excitement. Pack the bags, check out, and head to the water park! Windy, warm morning... perfect for hitting the water slides. The sun lives up to expectations, keeping us hot and darkening our previously fading tan. Eight hours, a foot-long corn dog, and the best workout I've had in months, we finally head home to Tulsa. And I can hardly move. Talk about aching muscles! I hurt in places I didn't even know I could hurt.

Our weekend still isn’t quite over… now we're headed to the drive-in movie theatre. and then home. and sleep.

Justice

  Why is it that some people get away with so much, and nobody cares, and others get away with nothing and everyone cares?

  Let's look at presidents versus sex offenders, just as one example. Our presidents can misquote a word, mess up their grammar, pass a law that you don't like, shake the wrong person's hand... and EVERYONE knows and EVERYONE seems to care! It's all over critics' blogs, newspapers, headlines, international TV. Honestly, who really cares? And why does it really matter?

  Newsflash: you are NEVER going to like every bill passed, every policy created, critics are called critics for a reason, and have you ever tried to give 25 speeches in 30 days in front of 6 billion viewers without messing up? Come on... get over it!

  HOWEVER. Sex Offenders are a whole different ballgame. On the local news last night a 2-time convicted child molester was caught with his 3rd known victim.

  In ‘91 he was convicted of sexually molesting a child. Again in 2007. In addition, he has been caught and convicted two different times for failing to register as a sex offender.

  FYI THAT'S A FELONY. Did you know that if you have a felony on your record, and you get convicted of another felony, you are supposed to go STRAIGHT BACK TO JAIL?

  Apparently, that's a laugh. For all of the above charges, this man has only served one sentence. For the first offence he was should have been in prison until 2021, but loopholes allowed him to get out in 2006.

  For all three following felonies, one for molesting a 9 year old girl, and two for failing to register, he was acquitted once and let off on plea bargains twice. He did not serve ANY time for those.

  This past week he was caught with his third known victim.

  Tulsa County District Attorney's comment? "If I knew then [when he was convicted of molesting the nine year old girl, and then subsequently convicted of twice failing to register] what I know now, I would probably have pursued the case farther."

  Mr. District Attorney? My comment back to you:

  It's a little late for that. Thank you for trying to keep our families safe. I know that you didn't view him like you view armed robbers, and mass murderers. I mean after all, a mass murderer's victims die! A rapist, a child molester... their victims are still alive. I know you didn't stop to think that maybe they wished they were dead. I know you didn't stop to think what it would do to you if your little girl was taken by this 'gentleman' and raped. I know you would rather a minor thing like that happen then the downtown gang members get shot. I know its a lot less trouble to just let the poor guy off when he bows down and says he's guilty than stick him in prison for something as silly as not telling people where he lives. I know it wouldn't be a big deal to you if your wife disappeared and you never saw her alive again, all because you didn't know that the friendly neighbor next door was a serial rapist. I know you were putting the well-being of Tulsans at top priority.

  Please, Mr. District Attorney, next time you decide to make us top priority: don't. We’ll understand.

story

–noun

1. a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.

2. a narration of the events in the life of a person or the existence of a thing or such events as a subject for narration.

3. a narrative that follows a set pattern of three main parts: introduction, climax, conclusion.

  Someone once told me that the definition of a story creates simply a story, but the difference between a good story and a masterpiece lies in the phrase "and they lived happily ever after."

  It seems a lot of people have a misconception of that phrase. For some reason completely unknown to me they think that "living happily ever after" should come at the end of the story. I don't understand this reasoning at all. Ok, maybe I should say I don't agree with this reasoning at all. Their line of thinking usually follows along these lines: Happily ever after implies that life is great from this point on, there will never be another unhappy moment, never another argument, never another tear shed or heart broken, or a hint of danger, or a sense of the new or unknown.

Most people believe that the story is over, so they stop writing.

  My line of reasoning is more along these lines: and they lived happily ever after. Whoever heard of a wonderful love-filled life that hasn’t endured heartache and tears, broken people, danger? If you think that those times spell a bad life, then please, put the magic phrase at the end of your story. Stop writing! The only problem with that is... if you stop writing, you die. You end your story. Yes, you may still be breathing, but you have stopped living.
So, back to the beginning.

  Someone once told me that the definition of a story creates simply a story, but the difference between a good story and a masterpiece is that a good story ends with "and they lived happily ever after."
A masterpiece begins with living happily ever after.

4. Life.