Visiting the place of my birth

I am still recovering from the trip last week, and I don't think I can really do it justice. Suffice it to say that we had a great time. The music was good, the visiting even better, and it was tainted by minimal drama and a touch of rain.

I was born in Fort Sill Army Hospital because (good guess) my father was in his 2 year stint when I was born. I don't remember anything about living there, and I have always wanted to see it. My sister and brother were born at hospitals down the road from where we grew up, and it seemed weird. As I have grown attached to Oklahoma through this annual festival and Woody Guthrie, my Okie roots have become more important to me. However, it is more than a short drive from where we stay to
where I was born. My friend T. agreed to go with me this year. The trip from our hotel to Ft. Sill and then to the airport was supposed to be 3 1/2 hours. We left the hotel at 8:30 in the morning, thinking we would have about an hour to see the hospital and living quarters--then head to the airport to pick up the friends arriving at 1PM.

Well, as you may have guessed, it was a bit more complicated than that. I think it took longer to drive to Ft. Sill than the map seemed to indicate. We arrived at the base and found armed guards. We immediately wondered if we would even be allowed on the property. They scanned our driver's licenses. I got a green light and my friend got a yield sign. Evidently, she has a name and ID number very similar to hers who perhaps is not the most upstanding citizen.

Everyone was very nice and helpful. When I asked where the hospital was, they asked, "The old one or the new one?" I said the old one, but it missed me by a couple of years. Mine was the one built in 1962, just 3 years before I was born.

We then found out that Geronimo has a grave site there, and it became a mission. It was about 4 miles off the map, and we passed it without seeing it the first time. When we asked some guys doing construction if they knew where it was, they literally pointed over their shoulders.

Geronimo's grave was decorated with a pyramid of red native stones and a statue of a bird. People had left trinkets ranging from peppermints to tobacco to figurines. I was pretty impressed to see the place where he had once been held captive be treated with such respect.

Okay, from the rambliness of the post, I can tell I am still too tired. More from me later.