This courthouse was a bit more interesting. It reminded me a lot of the West. West Texas, I mean. It’s a little strange to see something like this in Eastern Oklahoma, but I guess this was the frontier, too, and for a lot longer. There’s something about the roughhewn stones that give it a certain character. It’s not elegant or even architecturally interesting by any means, but it feels more honest and forthright. Hardened men and women received decent, common sense governance from a building like this and the men (but not likely any women [sorry about that]) who worked from here. Of course, realizing that people then were little different from people then, this very assertion is now and probably was then quite laughable. For some reason, I don’t think I’ve ever really seriously examined the myth of solid governance that courthouses represent and perpetuate. They give a feeling that at some time in the past, things were better, more sure. In reality, they just demonstrate that, at some point, people knew how to build a building. This is an idea that deserves further consideration and reflection, but not while I’m standing out front with 35 degree wind cutting through me.
The cache was a pill bottle at a telephone pole. Since it’s part of a series devoted to Bigfoot, I was afraid I’d have to tromp around in the trees at night looking for something. Luckily it didn’t turn out that way, though I bet the guys back at the gas station across the street were looking at me, wondering “what the heck?” Didn’t matter, found cache. And, with my signing done, I was off again, curving to and fro on dark, twisty roads, and made it, warm and unscathed, to a stop in…
Geocaching While Black 