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Donna's Journal
An Invitation to eat out

An invitation to eat out! We looked forward to a meal at a home owned café in the adjoining town of Tonkawa, Oklahoma. This can tell you how into a rut,  we really are. Not that this is so bad. Sometimes,  staying on the beaten path in parallel with the schools, jobs,  and whatever else necessary for continuing to survive isn't all that unpleasant.

Tonkawa is approximately fourteen miles from here. Interstate is just on the other side of Tonkawa. To allow traffic to keep coming to our town,   a very nice four lane highway was built. Probably, this is what has kept Tonkawa and Ponca City from becoming ghost towns. Truthfully, it isn't that much of a situation, but still, the wide highway makes it very nice for getting on and off the interstate..

Tonight,  as we zipped along this road our route took us past the old prisoner of war camp, which is just a sprinkling of old buildings still left there.

“Look! Look! I caught my granddaughter's attention. There is the old prisoner of war camp. Your grandmother lived there during the drought of '53.”

“What's a prisoner of war camp, Gramma?” My granddaughter asked.

“It is a place where they kept prisoners during a very big war. We will take a day off to walk through there. I think the roads are still useable. Hopefully,  I can locate the spot where our apartment was located. I sure would love to see the city of Tonkawa put a museum in one of the buildings, if there is one left in good enough shape. Is the tower still there?”

We had a wonderful meal, Mexican food with a touch of authenticity. The cilantro dip was very good and the chips along with that was delicate and crispy. It reminded us of some a Mexican grandmother would have made.

As we drove back to Ponca City,  immediately before our exit, a large deer was down on the road.  Evidently, a car had struck the animal and killed it.

“It's hunting season in Oklahoma,  I'm sure. The deer go a little berserk trying to get away from the rifles. Poor thing.”  This was the height of the evenings excitement. It was enough to give us a short break, except for the deer all bloody on the ground beside the highway,  everything else was enjoyable.

When we walked into our warm house it was so nice. I took the opportunity to open a lovely gift sent from a new found cousin on the Hunter line.  “The Bedford Handbook, Fifth Edition, by Diana Hacker.” What a thrill this was. Also, she included a set of hand crocheted bags looking like Indian Medicine bags. They are for saving soap chips. In one of the bags was a bar of Yardley Soap.

“Now how did she know this is my favorite?  What a way of reaching out to me from all the way across the United States. You see, GGGGrampa David Hunter of Hopkins county, Kentucky  is still alive and taking care of me via his bloodline. Through meeting and getting acquainted with her I have a glimpse of his personality.Absolutely phenomenal, I'm thinking,  as I admire the cranberry colored medicine bags!”

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