1981, Oklahoma City

In the early 1980s, I moved with my then-husband George from Albuquerque to Oklahoma City, where I got a job managing a backpacking store (Backwoods.. I was assistant mgr. in Albuquerque and they asked me to take over the OKC store). We lived there for two years. Was surprised to find that there was awesome rock climbing in Oklahoma.

There was an old fixture of a place on Lake Overholser, called Pauline's Bait and Tackle Shop. It was a giant barn; part of it was the bait shop and the rest was an old dance hall, since the 1930s. I mean, the real deal. All the decorations from Christmas, 4th of July, Halloween and Easter for many years still hung up, gathering cobwebs between the taxidermy fish, deer, and elk heads on the wall. In the evening, there was a band: this group of elderly men - a couple of em using walkers - who would make their way up onto the stage and then the fiddles, guitars, bass, would fill the place with pounding music you couldn't believe was coming from these old codgers. One was a phenomenal yodeler, too.

Big greasy cheeseburgers and line dancing. George refused to go, so I went with some of the local yokel young rock climber guys who worked for me (a couple of these guys later put up new routes in Yosemite.. they were that good). I learned how to Oklahoma two-step. I loved that place! If people got out of order, Pauline would slap them with a flyswatter.

Finally George got a little insecure about me spending so much time with these brawny young Okie guys, I guess. He was very uptight, but he came with me to Pauline's Bait and Tackle Shop.

So George sat there with a beer and I periodically called guys over, "Hey, Randy! I want to introduce you to my husband, George!" "Jake, I haven't seen you in a while. This here is my husband George." "Oh George, come over here, I want to introduce you to Jimmy..." George was aghast that I seemed to know everybody there.

The cowboys were actually baffled that I knew them, too. I saw a few of them huddled over by the bar together, glancing over at me. Finally one of them approached us and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, ah don't reckon I recall where Ah know you frum..." That's when I told him I was just reading their names off the back of their belts. (In those days, all the cowboy types had their names stamped on the back of their western belts.)Read more