Mustang Sally

Sometimes hidden gems lie waiting to be discovered in unexpected places if we are willing to take the time to uncover them.  Concerts in the park on a warm summer evening are the stuff that dreams are made of.

These hidden gems are the subject of many Hollywood productions.  The series "Gilmore Girls" often showcases live music on the town square highlighted in an ethereal glow of patrons in lawn chairs on a backdrop of green grass.


Such things truly do exist in real life - complete with blankets and lawn chairs and patrons toting picnic baskets on a backdrop of green grass with remnants of the twilight sun setting in the background. 




It's hard to imagine that all of this exists within the big city limits. This is not a charming small town with a quaint square like the fictional realm of Stars Hollow, Connecticut.  This is suburban Oklahoma City, but from the surroundings you wouldn't know it.

Nestled in one of Edmond's most beautiful city parks, this is one of the most delightful Thursday night summer traditions imaginable.  People of all ages sang along to some of the greatest hits from decades past.  The little ones who didn't know the words to "Mustang Sally" just danced along instead.

It just goes to show that you never know what you'll find if you just take the time to look.

Dining In Is Not For the Faint of Heart

The Dairy Queen at noon on a weekday in our small town is bustling.  Almost every table is full and folks are sitting outside on the covered patio eating their burgers and fries in the Oklahoma summer heat.  As we wait in line to order, I notice that the place has literally not been updated since the 1980's.  The tables are all uneven and wobbly and the booths and walls are dingy with age.  No one seems to care.  The food is good and it is the busiest place in town at lunch time.

We snap up a newly vacant table and as we wait for our food.  I hear two men greet each other behind me.  "Hello, Dick." says the first.  "Well, hello, there, Kirk." replies the other.  I turn slightly to see the pair.  I know both Dick and Kirk by first and last name.  I know their children's names and a good share of their family history that, I'm sure, they wish no one knew. 

As we eat our food, I listen to the chatter and banter around me.  Everyone here knows everyone else.  It is not individual tables talking quietly among themselves, like you find in larger cities.  It is patrons carrying on conversations across tables and across the restaurant itself. 

All of this chaos is justified under the premise of enjoying the best burger in town and walking away full and satisfied for the bargain price of $5.


When we leave, I weave around the tables in two different directions to avoid lengthy conversations with people I haven't seen in a long time. 

Climbing into the car, I breathe a sigh of relief.  Small town noon hour dining is not for the introvert or the faint of heart. 
That's what the "drive-thru" is for.