My BFF Sterlin and I are both from the tiny, rural town of Holdenville, Oklahoma. And we both now live in the thriving metropolis of Tulsa. The difference is that lately he wants to move back to that small town lifestyle. He is happy in Holdenville; he is inspired there. He has almost 100% fond memories of his life there. But me? The thought of living back there makes me queezy and limp in the knees and hyperventilate a little. I mean I love, love, love some things about the country (see my last post). But, I just want to visit Hville, not live there. I never felt completely comfortable there; some of the discomfort was, to be sure, just the universal awkwardness of growing up. But some of it was an indescribable stifling that I blame on my particular small town experience. Anyway, Sterlin and I got to talking about our different experiences of growing up in small town, OK, and here is what was said:
Me: Okay. We both come from a small town, but you have a much rosier picture of the small town lifestyle than I do. Don’t you?
Sterlin: Yes. We have very different versions of the same place… I think.
Me: What do you mean?
Sterlin: I mean, we both grew up in the same place and knew some of the same people, yet you could let it get sucked into a hole in the ground whereas I would move there tomorrow.
Me: Well, I always felt suffocated by the lack of opportunities and by the lack of diversity. Take religion. I mean, there are absolutely no Jews or Buddhists. There are hardly any Catholics. Pentecostals but everyone makes fun of them. I read about different religions and cultures in magazines, but that was it.
Sterlin: I don’t know… I feel like I had a lot of diversity religiously speaking. My family always held native beliefs and held the traditional ways in high regard. I spent most of my youth at an Indian Baptist Church (more than one, actually), and I was also an altar boy at my Grandma’s Episcopal church when I stayed the night at her house. Lighting candles, carrying crosses, and drinking wine.
Me: Hmmm. I guess my time in a Southern Baptist Church really tarnished my view of the space for freedom of religion. Going to Falls Creek and hearing preachers talk about how abortion was murder and a moral sin then going home where my dad was a doctor and kinda a health nut telling me that, no, an abortion was a medical procedure and a very private ordeal. It was a very conflicted environment for me. Quite uncomfortable, as far as morality, religion, spirituality, and all that goes.
Sterlin: Yeah, but you were also REALLY into religion for a while. I feel like me and my friends always held it at a safe distance… just enough to keep us in check but far enough so that we could do what we want. Yeah, so that reminds me. All the Indian churches go to a different Falls Creek. We called it Indian Falls Creek. But we always wondered what “white Falls Creek” was like. I got my first kiss at Indian falls creek. It was a girl from Weleetka.
Me: You’re the devil. White people didn’t do anything at Falls Creek but worship the Lord. Gaw.
Sterlin: I also had friends that lost their virginity at Indian Falls Creek.
Me: Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh! How did you handle that guilt? The guilt that is like ‘Oh, God is watching me, and I might burn in hell or at least seriously disappoint Him for this action that is really just funny kid stuff’?
Sterlin: Didn’t worry about it too much. It was a badge of honor if you came in late at Falls Creek. Especially if you had a hickey. You were talked about for years. I do remember, though, that it was right when AIDS awareness was huge and I was scared you could get it from kissing.
Me: Do you think, then, that some of your positive small town experiences had something to do with you being Indian, or you being male?
Sterlin: Yes, for sure Indian. I don’t think being male made a big difference though I’m sure you would disagree. I, of course, don’t have the perspective of being a girl growing up there. I mean, on the whole, you have to find people that have your similar interests, which can be hard in a small town. I think I was lucky. I also remember you having a lot of fun there. The Indian thing helped for sure. It’s just a different way of growing up and relating to people. My family was my community. Everyone watched out for each other… entertained each other. It kind of breaks my heart that a lot of that doesn’t exist back home anymore. My cousins are gone all over and elders are dying. It gives me a huge urge to want to be home and to not be a part of that community’s demise… I want to be a part of it’s strength and continuation.
Me: Gotcha. I think you were lucky, too. I remember you always looked so comfortable socially. So free.
Sterlin: I love city living. New York City is one of my favorite places in the world but as I get older I feel like the guy standing on my rooftop looking towards the country. I want chickens. I don’t want to shop at Whole Foods anymore.
Me: Whatever, you love Whole Foods, and you wouldn’t know WTF to do with a chicken!
Sterlin: Yeah, but I’d learn. I would need an internet connection for that, though. And the thing is, my Grandma who raised chickens her whole life is still alive!!! But she lives in Holdenville, and I’d need to be there to learn from her.
Me: So what do you think about raising a 21st century daughter in a small town? Do you think that you would have to pre-emptively prepare or do some padding or work harder to create a positive environment for her? Or to create healthy, sustainable, and fulfilling opportunities for her?
Sterlin: Yes, I think that you would have to work hard to raise a 21st century daughter in a small town but it’s the same in the city.
Me: ‘Cause she’s gonna grow up and leave us someday and become the 1st Native female President of the US, ya know?
Sterlin: Yes.
Me: I’m sure you have a more positive vision of our daughter being in a small town. I tend to think of the problems that could arise like methamphetamines, lack of comprehensive sex-ed, etc.
Sterlin: The thing about having a kid in a small town… or specifically my hometown is that there are things that a parent can never teach a kid. I’ll never be able to teach her what my parents can teach her. I’ll never be able to teach her what her great grandma can teach her. It’s not like they are having lesson time or anything… it’s just that kids can get a lot from their grandparents by just observing them and being around them. I think that’s a very Indian way of community. Not just their grandparents but also their cousins and Aunts and Uncles. I feel like my Aunts and Uncles are second parents. I also think that there’s something educational about growing up in the country. When the shit hits the fan and our whole society breaks down I want to be surrounded by people that know how to manage in the woods. I don’t want to be stuck with lawyers or real estate agents.
Me: I’m with you on that one.
Sterlin: For instance, this past hunting season I butchered my first deer. Now, that’s knowledge that I need to survive. I also recently learned how to start my own blog… and I’m learning how to use my Wacom tablet and draw in layers on Photoshop. The last two don’t amount to a hill of beans compared to butchering a deer.
Me: A hill of beans?
Sterlin: Wouldn’t you agree?
Me: Yes, but I also think that you can learn those survival skills no matter where you are. That’s what’s so fascinating about urban gardening and farming or all these community gardens around Tulsa or building a garden in my very own backyard. Slowly learning these skills, putting in the manual labor and getting paid in food. THAT’S AWESOME! That’s a survival skill that all of us can do no matter where we live. And no matter if our parents and grandparents are still alive or not. Also, you can raise a few chickens in your own backyard in Tulsa. There’s no ban on backyard chickens here. And don’t knock beans.
Sterlin: True. I never trust the soil of the city though. It’s weird, but I worry what’s in it. Just paranoid. I love Tulsa but it does rank pretty low as far as environmental health goes. I guess we just have to plant more trees and make it more like the country… or… I don’t know. I’ll just move to the country. I’m also paranoid about tap water.
Me: Don’t you remember when the tap water in Holdenville was making people sick?
Sterlin: Yeah, but that’s ’cause the city folk came in and made the water filtration system because in their city, they were polluting the rivers with chemicals. It’s the joys of capitalism: cause a problem and then pay people to maintain it… not fix the problem.
Me: Oh. Thanks for the insight.
Sterlin: There are ups and downs of both the city and the country… I just think that the country suits me.
Me: Well, when you find a place in the country, will you report back and let me know how things are going?
Sterlin: Yes, I’ll bring you eggs fresh from my chicken and milk from my cow.
Me: Will you get our daughter a pony?
Sterlin: Of course.
For more musings from filmmaker, writer, dad, and countree-boyee Mr. Sterlin Harjo, you can check out his new blog (!) here.
