Bring Detergent: A Mule Rider Crosses Into Oklahoma
PublishedSeptember 10, 2004
I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.
The sign in front of Arkoma’s school says “Ice Cream Social” followed by a date and the words “Bring detergent.”
We’ve made Oklahoma.
Maggie grazing on the state line.
It’s late in the day for mule travel. Two hours before sunset, you’d better have a place to stay or you’ll be driving your tent pegs by starlight.
I continue down Highway 9A, out of town. An hour later, I find lodging with Jason and Stephanie Shelton.
Jason’s a fellow traveller. The only difference between he and I are two years, a Harley Davidson and Stephanie.
Stephanie’s his wife. She teaches at the school in Arkoma, the one with the cryptic sign.
They told me I was welcome to camp at their place. As I was picketing Woody out, Stephanie brought me an ice cold bottle of orange juice and I asked her, “So what does that mean, ‘Bring detergent’?”
“Oh, that’s for the football team,” she tells me, “to wash their uniforms.”
“Yeah, it’s funny,” Jason says, “out here they have eight man teams,” and he tells me about the three players absent from the usual eleven man squad.
That was my first hint at just how big Oklahoma was.
The land is so big out here it stretches football teams and requires outside help to launder their uniforms. Folks with sense like Jason ride Hogs instead of mules to cover the land.
But there’s still room for travellers on horseback. Thanks Jason and Stephanie and Billy Jack for making us a spot.
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