"The Things They Carried.” That’s a title of a book about Vietnam-era soldiers a few years ago; one I’m borrowing for my final column.
In two weeks, I’ll leave The Oklahoman
to become a Journalist (Ret.) (Column, Oct. 7).
Now, I’m cleaning out my desk. Although I’ve changed desks a number of times during the past 39 years, when you’ve lived somewhere that long, the stuff piles up.
There are two fishing rods in the corner; they don’t have reels or tackle, but they had a story.
There’s Elvis memorabilia. I always figured I’d spot him one day in a crowd at the state fair. I must have just missed him.
There are pencils from the Police Athletic League and fancy pens from the Kiwanis Club.
There are photos of me and the late Lucille Hamons, of Lucille’s on Route 66; we look alike.