One Pharmacist's View

I know looks aren’t everything. At least that’s what mama tried to tell us when we were living hand to mouth over in Centrahoma. Things went pretty well when there was just immediate family around, but someone always came back.

Bill Cook has long been forgotten by the good people living over in Stonewall. But not by me. Who was this Bill Cook? Bill Cook was a famous criminal back about the time I graduated from Stonewall High School in 1952.

Maybe it is the weather that is doing it, but I can’t seem to get all warmed up this spring. The news last week says we are a full and complete whole degree Fahrenheit warmer compared to just last year but I have to go by what is happening now. All respect to Al Gore, I am cold.

It was 1955 when I first saw this Marine Sargent. He served on my ship’s security detail, the USS Lexington, a carrier that fought in WWII. But it was on a Greyhound bus out of San Diego, California that I noticed he was going my way— east to Oklahoma.

Wayne is out of pocket this week so we are running one of his columns from the past.

For many of us the end of this pandemic is at hand. And I say, “Praise the Lord.” Being cooped up and suffering through one of the coldest winters in history has also been hard on us. I am a guy who loves getting out and seeing my fellow man.

Are we, at last, in the final days of this great Pandemic? Some sources still run on about fresh outbreaks in scattered places, but the overall picture is good. Cases are declining. Each week hundreds of thousands are receiving their shots. Over.

While news about wild partying keeps coming in from Miami Beach, Florida and other favorite spring-break places it was fairly calm here at 601 E. Lee Street in Allen last Sunday.

Driving around Allen on my golf cart I see some green grass. Testing the waters so speak. Also, Fruitless Pears are about to bloom and light everything up with their colors. And some of our winter birds will be packing up and going back north with stories of a very cold time in Oklahoma.

Back in the 1940s I went to a place we called Victor. Like so many places in rural Oklahoma, Victor has completely faded away. Oh, there are still a few people strung up and down Highway 270 just East of the Big Caston bridge but the only place left that I know is my Uncle Herman’s place.