Oklahoma Dreaming: Water

by Donna Schoenkopf

last week: weather

When I was a little girl in Hawaii, my dad built a house on an acre of land at the top of a hill. I still dream about it. Our family would go to the site and watch sometimes as the house was built. One day, the man who was driving a tractor to prep the soil for grass drove over a water pipe. Water gushed. He tied a red kerchief around the pipe. For several years I worried that the kerchief would disintegrate and we would have no water and die of thirst.

Kids.

One of the reasons I am so involved environmentally, is that I am a nut about water. (See above.)

So I decided I wouldn't have well water. So much spraying for pests (both animal and vegetable) and fertilizers HAD to have consequences on the aquifers. Rain soaks through the earth depositing that crap in our water systems. BUY ORGANIC, FOLKS!

After some research I found out that Pottawatomie County had a rural water district (#3), that had been started by NONE OTHER THAN PEEWEE'S DAD, Joe Taron, in 1960.

I told you the Tarons were everywhere.

So I called Geri at Pott. Co. Rural Water District #3 and told her I wanted to connect to the line. She was sweeter than any public servant I had dealt with in a long time. She said it would cost $1200 to connect, that we had to use our own pipe because they were low on funds, and that, yes, it would be great if Peewee could do the digging and pipe-laying. They would put in the meter.

So, Jimmy (my handsome, delicious, wonderful, fabulous, brilliant grandson who visited with my daughter) and I drove to Wanette.

To get to Wanette, you drive south on the 177. There are no houses. There are a few, very few cars/trucks on the road. It is quiet. There is right wing talk radio or church programs on the radio. It is incredibly beautiful. Horses, sleek and shining, stand in glowing green, munching their way through horse heaven. We get to Asher. A four way stop sign is our landmark to turn west. We take a beautiful two lane road, up and down hills, past a barn with a giant happy face painted on its side. We put on classical music. Time stands still.

We turn south into Wanette. It's a one-block-long town. The rural water building is neat and trim, made of brick. Old people live in Wanette. Jimmy and I open the door and meet Geri, face to face. She remembers me, she smiles, she is the NICEST person! I write her a check. We chat. (EVERYONE chats here. Not quick little chats. Long involved chats.) Part of our chat is about the purchase of the Pott. Co. Rural Water District #3 by none other that Rocky Barrett, the chief of the Pottawatomie Indians, builder of two casinos, power guy of the area, and ... old buddy from my high school days. Geri tells me that he said he had only one rule for her when he takes over. Be nice to everyone.

I always did like Rocky.

Jimmy and I leave and drive a new way home, through St. Louis which has a billboard on the side of the road reading, "St. Louis, Pop. 77—75 Nice People, 1 Pyromaniac and 1 Busy Body."

More sleek horses. One is loose. He runs alongside the fence trying to get back to his pasture and his pals. His horse friends see him and run up to the fence, manes and tails flying. He whinnies to them. We hope he gets in. We keep on driving.

Water.

Peewee is digging the trench with his bulldozer. He lets me ride up in the cab when we go to the digging site. Now I know why he loves his machines. I feel like an Amazon!

Peewee asks me to draw a plan of where I want my plumbing. I draw it and tell him not to forget my outdoor shower. His son, Rowdy, will be here tomorrow to put it in. Peewee tells me that Rowdy gets up at 4:00 every morning and gets home at 10:00 at night. Then he sits on the side of his bed and listens to his wife bitch. We both laugh. Hard. Peewee knows what Rowdy feels and I know what Rowdy's wife feels.

The cement guys have built the form for my 1200 sf house. They are fast and strong. It's hot. They don't even notice. I hear one of them laugh at another and say, "Did you go to church Sunday? Did you say dang or damn?" I watch as they use their legs to hold the lumber while they nail it. Peewee told me he couldn't do cement work anymore. Too hard on the back. A young man's job.

Daniel, from the water district, shows up to talk to Peewee. He's young and handsome and drives a classic black Harley. He sweats. Everyone sweats. He's sweet and respectful and tells us this is his first day on the job. Peewee will be helping him figure out how to find the water line.

Peewee can do anything.

Can't wait for tomorrow.

Water's comin'.

Oh, boy.

next time: guys