10 Years

I graduated from high school ten years ago last May. And in honor of that auspicious occasion, I am loading my car with my boyfriend, my cat, and myself and heading up to Broken Arrow to see how everyone hasn't changed a bit.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am going to my high school reunion. I go with a mixture of nostalgia, dread, and excitement. I want to see the people I spent my time with, although many of those people won't be there. I don't want to feel like a band/academic team nerd amongst the cool people, although I have a feeling that that feeling might rear its ugly head. I do want to see how every has, and hasn't, changed. And, if nothing else, I want to see a football game and see the Pride of Broken Arrow march before their first contest this weekend :-) And the dinner part is at the aquarium, so we can look at the fishies when things get awkward.

No, really, I am looking forward to it. I don't know what it will be like and that's okay. All I know is that I should have some interesting stories to tell when I get back. And you might actually get to hear them.

60 Years Young

Back on July 1 of last year, my Poppa and Granny celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Nine months and 26 days later, my father is celebrating his 60th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!


Robert E. Baxter, Sr. holding Robert E. Baxter, Jr. Or, my Poppa holding my Daddy.


Daddy with his two sisters, Aunt Sherry and Aunt Janny


My Daddy, proof that nerds find love. I mean, my Mom was cool!


I think he still has this sweatsuit...


Always patient, always teaching, or, always sending us to Mom...


And Daddy and his sisters, all growsed up.

I am a Daddy's Girl. My Daddy is the greatest. I know everyone says that, but I had a unique growing up experience. He was there for everything--band, academic team matches, school field trips, all that stuff. He is a consulting geophysicist and works for himself, which means that he made his own schedule. I always felt special because my Daddy could be at everything, even though I had to put on that "why do you guys have to come to EVERYTHING!" attitude by the time I hit intermediate high school. When I went to college, he spent a little over a year and a half in Saudi Arabia working, and no matter how much I love my Mom, it never seemed the same coming home for weekends without Daddy there. My Daddy hates sweaters, but when I bought him one he wore it, just because I asked him to. Everytime I call home and he answers, he immediately asks, "What's wrong?" just waiting to fix something for me, or at least try.

So, Happy Birthday, Daddy! Your Star loves you.

Magic Purple Memory Dots

No, they're not something you see when you've had special brownies or found fun fungi. They're something that my gifted teacher in elementary school used to put on our fingers in magic marker to help us remember things when we got home.

I saw Mrs. Roberts today. She was my gifted teacher in elementary school. Our class was called Kaleidoscope. I spent half a day two days a week with her for five years of my life. Well, I suppose it was only one day a week in first grade, but you get the point. Anyway, I got a phone call while I was in the parking lot at Pei Wei telling me that Mrs. Roberts and a pack of other docents from the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa (Gillies, as they're called) were visiting the museum and she'd asked after me. Now, when most people hear that a former teacher is in town visiting, they think, "That's nice, I need to go say hi." Me? Oh, I went into full-on hyperactivity, back-to-2nd-grade mode. I was that excited, eager to please kid again. I couldn't wait to get back to the History Center and see her.

I saw her, we hugged and chatted, she told me all of the things she's doing since she "graduated." Among other things, she's taking tap dance lessons from the same woman who taught her tap when she was six. In her own words, "You do the math!" Impressive.

We reminisced about magic purple memory dots, dressing up like little Swiss girls (just for you, Molly), being butterflies, the dreaded Connections (who'da thought I would hate logic problems when I analyze everything to death!), and the Voyage of the Mimi. She remembered a poem that I had written in 5th grade about a painting at Gilcrease. Mrs. Roberts let us be creative, let our imaginations run free, but also helped us learn how to harness that imagination and make it productive.

I've had many influential and inspiring teachers, but because I had her class every week for five years of my life, Mrs. Roberts took my impressionable, mushy gray matter and turned it into something that teachers later could actually work with. And she taught me how to stretch it to its limit.



Me in a "little kid ugly" stage--probably the first day of second or third grade. Ready to go find my yellow folder and try to avoid doing as many Connections as possible.