Snow

Here in Canada, it is very snowy and very cold, as you can see. But ironically enough, in the last week Oklahoma City has been even more snowy and cold, as you can see here.

Looks like we got out just in time!

The Reverend Frankton Muncie and friends

On Monday we arrived in Canada, where we're spending Christmas and New Year. The drive up from Oklahoma took two and half days, much of it through very boring scenery, and I found myself passing the time by inventing characters based on the roadside direction signs. These signs typically have two place names on them, which are the towns you would get to if you got off at the next exit, turning either left or right. The following are all real examples, from the I69 north between Fort Wayne, Indiana and Lansing, Michigan:

Frankton Muncie - the vicar in Pride and Prejudice ('While you were out, Miss Bennet, we received a visit from the good and distinguished Reverend Frankton Muncie.')
Marion Montpelier - used to sing cabaret songs with Richard Rodney Bennett (no relation)
Quincy Coldwater - produced Michael Jackson's first album
Three Rivers Jackson - early delta blues singer
Okemos Mason - world heavyweight champion, 1956

Well, it amused me at the time.

Cheese

I like to think I'm pretty easy-going when it comes to food - I enjoy most things, but one thing I've never liked is cheese. I don't mind a bit of cheese flavour in things and I can manage pizza (though not the 'four cheese' variety), but anything stronger than that I just don't like. Cheese, to me, tastes and smells like milk which has gone off. Although I know this is a relatively unusual quirk, I've always managed fine in the past - at restaurants, for example, I will avoid any dishes which contain cheese and likewise for products at the supermarket.

But that doesn't work here, because Americans put cheese in everything, and they don't tell you. Your innocuous can of pasta in tomato sauce, which looks just like Heinz spaghetti, will taste of cheese, and when you check the ingredients, yes, there it is about half way down. The meal I have ordered in a restaurant precisely because it does not, according to the menu, have cheese in it will appear at the table covered with a liberal sprinkling of grated cheddar. The stuff is everywhere.

Today I was at the supermarket looking for a sandwich to take with me in the car for later. The choices were beef and cheese, ham and cheese, cheese, or tuna. Checking the ingredients on the tuna sandwich revealed it had - yes, cheese in it. They had slipped it in surruptitiously and tried to hide it from me, but I foiled their game. In the end I bought a ham and cheese sandwich and took the cheese out.

What is it with Americans and cheese?

The beginning of the end

Well, my Oklahoman oddysey is coming to an end. I've got a new job to start in January in the UK. The house is on the market, and we're making plans to move on.

I feel somehow that the blog should end on a high note - perhaps a poem or even a musical number. But it'll probably just fizzle out in some kind of unsatisfactory way.

Soup of the day

Why is the 'soup of the day' in every single American restaurant always chicken noodle?

Phone frustration

Why, when you phone Bank of America's number for checking suspicious transactions, is the last item on the second automated menu (after you have keyed in your account number, date of birth, social security number etc.) 'Press 8 if you want to wire money to Mexico'?

Free tree surgery

This morning, when we woke up, we noticed two large orange trucks parked across the road, bearing the legend 'ASPLUNDH tree expert co.' As I've been working this morning, I've heard various sounds of power saws, bits of tree being thrown to the ground, and occasional shouts in Spanish. It's now mid-morning, and I've just looked out of the window into our back garden, and noticed a man sitting in our large pecan tree with a power saw, along with various ropes and pieces of equipment, and lots of branches and leaves all over the ground. There are other men doing similar things in neighbouring gardens. Presumably they've been sent from the electricity company, in order to cut back the trees from the overhead wires. Which is fine, but in the UK, they would at least have knocked on the door and asked if we minded them coming onto our property first, not to mention hacking bits off our tree. I've noticed that Americans are quite cavalier about the concept of personal property: for example, it's not considered rude here to drive your car into someone's front drive in order to execute a three-point turn.

Added to which, we could have saved the trouble and expense of getting our trees cut back approximately six months ago.

Measurement

America is still completely wedded to the imperial system of measurement, and even if the whole world ends up going completely metric, I'm quite sure they will never change. (Who cares what the rest of the world does, anyway?) No American has any idea what a centimetre or a kilometre is. Distances are measured in miles, lengths are measured in feet and inches (even down to small, precise measurements like an eighth of an inch), the weight of everything is expressed in pounds, and liquids are measured in gallons.

I have mixed feelings about this. Like most British people of my generation, I grew up in a strangely conflicted environment, where I learnt about (and did calculations in) centimetres, litres and kilograms at school, but talked about inches, pints and pounds at home, because my parents and grandparents only really thought in these terms. Indeed, they were still only just recovering from the shock of adapting to decimal currency, and my grandmother never really accepted the fact that 10p was 10p and not two shillings. But there was no real choice about this for me: the old system was entirely obsolete by the time I was going into shops and buying things, so I only ever learnt about it second-hand (and imperfectly). But in other areas of life this was not the case, and even now I can only conceptualise height expressed in feet and inches, distances in miles, speeds in miles per hour, and drinks in pints. As for weight, I don't really understand that at all, and to this day remain hazy about whether a pound or a kilogram is heavier.

Which, you would have thought, should have set me up well for life as an American: but it's not that simple. The imperial system is endlessly complex, and incorporates several units which are pretty much obsolete, or only reserved for specialist uses, in either or both of the UK and America: furlong, pole, perch, gill. A gallon, for example, is something I previously associated only with buying petrol - here, it's used for mineral water, milk and orange juice too, so I can now, for the first time in my life, visualize a gallon in terms of size. On the other hand, the stone (as a unit of weight) is not used here, so I am forever trying to divide by 14 in my head whenever somebody is referred to as weighing so many pounds.

The ubiquitous use of the imperial system in America has its benefits: there is none of the confusion between generations or even within one individual which exists in the UK; everyone knows and understands one system. It has even resulted in certain accepted terminologies to describe things beyond the units themselves: a 'two by four', for example, is a standard size of wooden plank measuring two inches in height and four in depth (and varying in length according to need); everyone in America knows what this is, but I had to learn. But, as Europe worked out some time ago, the system is horrendously complicated and fiddly, and its retention here is one of the principal things which makes America feel a little old-fashioned and complacent to me.

Panhandle

Dave Gorman points out, in his book 'America Unchained', that there are three US states which claim to have a panhandle, but Oklahoma is the only one whose panhandle really does look like the handle of a pan. I quite agree.

Actually, the story of why that strange slice of land is stuck on to the northwest corner of Oklahoma is quite interesting - I learnt it not long ago from a colleague who teaches music at the Oklahoma Panhandle State University (yes, really - despite my initial misgivings about that particular institution). Apparently, in the 19th century as America expanded west, the states of North and South Dakota, Nebraska and Kansas were created by drawing latitude lines at equal intervals running south from the Canadian border. At that time, Oklahoma was still known as the 'Indian territory' or the 'unassigned lands', and was the area which had been specifically created - 'in perpetuity' - for Native American tribes after their enforced migration from other parts of North America.

The obvious thing was for Texas (which had briefly been an independent country earlier in the 19th century) to claim the land to the west of Oklahoma running up to the Kansas border, but according to the rules of the time, in order to maintain its status as a confederate (slave-owning) state, it was not allowed to claim any land north of the Mason-Dixon line. So all the land to the south of that line became part of Texas (the 'Texas panhandle', in fact, though it looks nothing like a panhandle to me - or to Dave Gorman), leaving a thin slice of land by itself. When Oklahoma was granted statehood in 1907, one of the conditions was that it incorporated this slice of land which up till then, no-one had known what to do with (evidently Texas, by that stage, didn't want it).

According to my colleague, this history has resulted in a certain sense of autonomy and rebellion amongst the Oklahoma panhandlers, many of whom don't really feel part of Oklahoma to this day, and there is even some kind of secessionist movement. It is, as far as I understand it, pretty empty of anything apart from cows, and the Oklahoma Panhandle State University. I met this colleague again yesterday at a conference, which is what reminded me about this issue. I mentioned to him that when the Oklahoma weather comes on TV, the far western part of the panhandle is actually obscured by the TV station's logo. 'Oh, that's all right', he replied, 'no-one lives there anyway'.

By the way, in case you're wondering, the third 'panhandle' state is Florida.

Badminton

I played badminton yesterday for the first time in about 10 years. Americans don't play badminton - to find a club I had to drive around 40 miles to the University of Oklahoma campus in Norman, and the other players were almost all foreign students at OU - Asians and Europeans. I was the oldest person there by about 15 years and certainly the least skilled, but it was fun.

Teddy bears in the pews

Yesterday I played the organ at a church which had teddy bears seated on all the pews, and where the pianist played all the hymns in a style which sounded like Barry Manilow on speed. The fact that in Oklahoma none of this is particularly unusual is a very good example of why this will never really feel like home.

Greetings

Today, as I was walking across the university campus where I'm now doing some part-time teaching, an attractive young woman, who I didn't recognise, smiled at me as she passed and said 'Hi, how ya doin'?' In the UK, this would certainly be a come-on, but here it's simply a standard greeting between strangers. I think.

Malaysia

I'm currently in Malaysia. I've always really enjoyed my trips to this part of the world, revelling like all Western travellers do in the exotic difference of the culture. But this time it feels different, and I think it's because I'm not travelling from home to somewhere different; instead I'm travelling from somewhere different to somewhere else different, and actually I find myself yearning even more strongly for home.

A dream extinguished

I was so excited to have discovered this place. The thought of real Cornish pasties, Heinz baked beans and pickled onions in Oklahoma was virtually enough to bring tears to my eyes. I even checked on Google maps to make sure it was still there, and it seemed like it was.

Today I drove there, in the pouring rain. It closed down two years ago; it's now a Chinese tailor's.

Hot

People in the UK really should stop complaining about a 'heatwave' when the temperature in London hits 32°C for a week.

(32°C = 90°F. 106°F = 41°C)

'Say something in English!'

This morning, in between playing the organ for two services, I went to a café for breakfast. It was pretty busy (Sunday morning 'brunch' is a popular pastime here) and it was some time before I managed to attract the attention of a waitress to ask for a menu. Just after she went off to get it, another waitress asked me if I needed a menu. I said something like 'yes I do, but I think your colleague's just gone to get me one'. Her expression clearly indicated that she hadn't understood a word of what I'd said - partly the general hubbub of the place, partly my English accent. She looked at me with a mixture of confusion and pity, and said: 'What are you talkin'?' I really wish I'd had the presence of mind to give the obvious answer: 'English - same as you', but I just grinned apologetically and said 'Sorry - I'm from England'. I usually say 'England' rather than 'Britain', which just leads to more confusion.

I had a similar experience a month or so ago when I was in California. After about an hour's drive from San Diego airport, I arrived in the town I was staying in quite late in the evening, and, pretty hungry, stopped to eat at the first place I saw, which was a kind of fast food/diner place selling burgers, pizza and ice cream. I opted for a pizza. The lady serving behind the counter - who I think, like about 50% of the population in that part of the world, was of Mexican descent - asked me what kind of pizza base I wanted, and pointed to a chart on the wall showing the options. I decided on butter, and informed her accordingly. She didn't understand, so I repeated the word. And again. And again. Eventually I was reduced to pointing to the picture on the wall. 'Oh, budderrr!' she said. I suppose my 'proper' English pronunciation of 'butta' must have sounded as far removed from her conception of the word as could be imagined.

All this leads to a dilemma. Once you've been here a while, you know that the way you pronounce certain words sounds odd to the locals. I'm perfectly well aware that if I ask for tomatoes, or refer to my garage, or ask what route to take, I am likely to get a quizzical stare in response. At the very least, I feel self-conscious. But on the other hand, if I force myself to ask for tomaydoes, or refer to my garage, or ask what rout to take, I feel like a patronising fraud. Suggestions would be welcome.

Let me round off with a story which I fervently wish had happened to me, but was in fact told to me by another British person I know in Oklahoma. A friend of hers, visiting from the UK, went into a shop to buy something, and received the inevitable 'Oh, I lurrve your accent? Where are you from?!' 'England', she said. 'England? Oh wow! Hey, say something in English!'

Nobama

OK, time to lay my cards on the table. Politically, I'm left-leaning, or 'liberal', as the common parlance here would put it. So I'm very happy that Barack Obama is the president, and I think that George W Bush was (and still is) an embarrassment who caused untold harm to the world.

In most contexts with which I'm familiar, saying that would hardly be controversial; in fact it would pretty much be assumed. But here in Oklahoma, it's a minority position. Actually, Oklahoma City itself is probably reasonably well-balanced, and certainly during the election last year (see 'Anti-family', 6 October) I saw at least as many yard signs and bumper stickers for Obama-Biden as I did for McCain-Palin; and I've since spoken to a number of people who seem supportive of the new President. But the fact remains that Oklahoma was the only state in the US in which every single county voted for McCain ('Oklahoma facts', 17 December), and there is definitely a very well-entrenched conservative streak here, particularly among the churches.

I wrote a few posts ago ('Organs and Churches', 15 June) about Bill, who told me that 'it's a bit like the Federal Government at the moment - you may not like what they're doing, but you just have to accept it'. Last Sunday there were two other small events which served as jolting realisations of the political culture here. As I drove out of the church parking lot after playing the organ, there was an enormous SUV in front of me with a sticker in the rear window which simply read 'NOBAMA'. And earlier, I had fallen into conversation with a lady who told me she was from Hawaii. 'Oh, like President Obama', I said. Her face looked pained. 'Well, you know there's no record of him having been born there', she said. Evidently there is some kind of right-wing conspiracy which seeks to persuade people that Obama's not really American, but is some kind of dangerous foreigner, and probably a Muslim and a terrorist to boot. 'And he lived in Indonesia, you know. It's like he can't make up his mind'. But she had just told me that she lived in the UK for a few years as a child.

Then you listen to Real Time with Bill Maher, as I do every week, and you become aware of a creeping frustration among liberals - which I share - that Obama's too soft and timid, that he's not going far enough, that the promise of change he brought with him is in danger of compromise. It reminds me of a similar problem I've often encountered as a composer - a piece of music can be thought rather uninteresting, unoriginal and timid when played in a concert of contemporary music, yet dangerously radical and mystifying when played to an audience of people who don't usually listen to modern music. (My friend Derek Bermel made this point very eloquently and forcefully on a recent post on his blog, which you can read here.) You can end up with a profoundly uncertain feeling about where to position yourself.

Wedding

I've just got back from playing the organ at my first Oklahoma wedding, in a Baptist church. I was expecting it to be a little on the, er, saccharine side, and to that extent it did not disappoint. I was, however, genuinely shocked by the Bible reading, which was from Ephesians Chapter 5, and included the following:

"Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore, as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing."

I think someone forgot to tell my wife about that bit.

Senator Jim Inhofe (2)

He's also rude and belligerent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWQotshOSDo&NR=1

Senator Jim Inhofe (1)

Recently Senator Jim Inhofe, the senior senator from Oklahoma, made the national news by criticising President Obama's speech in Cairo as 'un-American'. He said that Obama was wrong to refer to Iraq as 'a war of choice' during a speech on foreign soil, and wrong to imply that torture had taken place at Guantanamo Bay. He added: 'I just don't know whose side he's on.'

The Oklahoman reported this with the headline 'Criticism from US Senator Jim Inhofe echoed by Republicans', which seems to imply that the most significant thing about Inhofe's comments were that they led the way for other Republicans, rather than that they are inherently stupid.

You can read the Oklahoman's story here. (To be fair, the video segment embedded in this page does give a more rounded view.)

I remember seeing lots of yard signs out for this guy Inhofe during the elections last year, and I decided to find out a little more about him. It turns out he is a Bible-thumping, right-wing, global warming denying, homophobic ultra-conservative nutjob.* I refer you to Inhofe's Wikipedia article.

How good to know that I am represented at the national level by this esteemed gentleman.

Bill Maher had a good comment on Inhofe. 'What's he talking about? Obama's speech was thoughtful, well-crafted, subtle, nuanced ... oh yeah, it is un-American.'

*In my personal opinion, in case Mr Inhofe's lawyers are watching.

Places and place names

Oklahoma may not be the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan place on the planet, but at least I live in an area called The Village, which sounds a little bit arty. It could be worse. I could live in one of the following real places in Oklahoma:

Cement
Beaver
Wheeless
Felt
Alfalfa
Elk City
Granite
Big Cabin
Commerce
Velma (unaccountably, Shaggy and Scooby don't seem to exist)
Tom
Swink
Slaughterville
Scraper
Pumpkin Center
North Pole
Blue
Hogshooter
Oil Center
Frogville
Sulphur

Other place names, as well as being slightly odd, conjure up more positive, even romantic associations. Imagine the hope which Fort Supply must have instilled in the hardy frontiersman in the 19th century. Other names indicate a spirit of optimism (Friendship, Okay) or wild idealism (Eldorado). White Eagle and Lone Wolf refer, no doubt, to the Native American heritage. Gene Autry is just bizarre.

I like 'The Village', however. All it is really is a little parcel of semi-suburban Oklahoma City, about 10 miles north of the city centre, which has a measure of civic independence. The Village has its own City Hall, police and fire departments, services and utilities. My address, correctly, is The Village, Oklahoma: I don't technically live in Oklahoma City. Apparently, The Village takes its name from 'The Village Store', which was a local meeting place in the 1940s when this area was mostly just farms and open country.

You can read about it here. This history reads like it was written a few years ago by someone old enough to remember when The Village was planned and built, and who now has too much time on their hands. After all, there's only so much you can read about what was said in town meetings in 1953, or the history of the sewerage system. But despite the rather weighty and purple prose, parts of it are interesting, and it gives you a sense of how this area has developed over time. The funny thing is that when it talks about the 1940s and 50s, it sounds like an age ago, but it's not really. Many people I meet every day will remember that time perfectly well. In the UK, that era really doesn't seem like a long time ago, perhaps because so much of what we see around us today was already firmly in place by that time. Here, the scale and speed of recent development is such that this area is no doubt completely unrecognisable compared to that time.

In America people talk about 'The State of...' and 'The City of...' when they want to refer to a political or civic entity. In the UK, we talk about county councils, city councils and borough councils. So, I live in Oklahoma, but the governmental level of the state is known officially as 'The State of Oklahoma'. States are divided into counties, which in turn are divided into cities. The term 'city' here does not carry the same inferences as it does in the UK: for one thing, it doesn't have to be very big (a city can have just a few hundred people living in it). The Village is technically a city, which means that at the official level, it is The City of The Village. Bizarre.

Organs and churches

In recent weeks, I seem to have developed a new career as a professional substitute organist. I have always played the organ a bit, even though I've never considered myself to be particularly good. I first played for a church service when I was 14, as the regular organist for our church was ill and I was asked to step in at the last minute. As I recall, I played the hymns in two parts - the tune in the right hand, the bass in the left - and played some of my graded piano exam pieces as the voluntaries. I then took lessons for two years, but other things (particularly composition) became more important and I stopped learning. But I continued playing: it was a useful way to supplement my income when I was a student, and subsequently I played once a month at the small country church in Oxfordshire where we got married. In the UK, although there is a wonderful tradition of organ playing at the cathedrals and large parish churches, good organists are a rare commodity for small churches, especially of non-Anglican denominations, who can't afford to pay very much, or at all. So even though I could do little more than get through a few hymns and busk my way through a small repertoire of opening and closing voluntaries, I usually found myself reasonably well in demand.

In Oklahoma City, as I have written elsewhere, the churches are many, large, and ostentatious. But I held back from advertising my services, as their websites seemed to suggest that they were already more than adequately provided for, by 'music ministry' teams drawn from their ample congregations. Not to mention a nagging feeling that I wasn't really a proper organist, and wouldn't be good enough. Anyway, eventually, having made a few enquiries, I joined the OKC chapter of the American Guild of Organists and added myself to their substitute rota.

When I got back from my recent trip to the UK in March/April, there were 3 messages on my cellphone offering me work. The only one which I hadn't already missed was a gig playing at a large Presbyterian church in a couple of weeks' time. Subsequent enquiries revealed that they had a membership roll of 1800 and three services on a Sunday morning, at 8.15, 9.30 and 11.15. I swallowed hard, but decided to accept. After all, if I was terrible and died on my poverbial backside, I could just retreat graciously from the Oklahoma City organists' scene and no-one would ever need to know it had happened, apart from the 1800 members of the church. Oh, and the people who watched the broadcast of the 9.30am service which went out on local TV. And my parents, who happened to be visiting from the UK that week.

When I turned up at the church to practise, I found the usual enormous Microsoft-corporate-headquarters-style complex of entrance hall, offices, educational suite, and eventually, somewhere inside, a church - or sanctuary, as they (quite correctly) call it here. The organ was a huge 4-manual beast with ranks of stops, pistons and switches which made it look like the flight deck of Concorde. But I stealed my resolve and attempted to tame it.

On the Sunday morning, I was, to put it mildly, extremely nervous. I didn't play well at the 8.15 service, possibly because there were in fact only about 40 people in the congregation and I had planned my registrations for a full church, so I had to cut back at the last minute. But I got into the swing of things in the 9.30 service (congregation: approx. 300) and by the 11.15 (approx. 200) I was coasting. Lots of people congratulated me and said they'd like to have me back. I breathed a sigh of relief - perhaps I wasn't too bad after all.

Since then, I've had a lot more emails and phone calls requesting my services - some simply having got my details from the AGO substitute list, at least one as a direct result of my triumphant debut at XXX Presbyterian Church (not its real name, I hasten to add). It's summer, of course, and a lot of people are on holiday ('vacation'): I'm actually completely booked out now for every Sunday until I go to Malaysia to examine in August. One church nearby (which has an absolutely delightful, lovely, friendly lady as their regular organist / director of music) has asked me to treat the church as my 'base', with an offer to practise the organ whenever I need to. I'm really starting to enjoy myself.

And it's well paid. The churches here are well-resourced, and able to pay very well. The instruments are in good condition and enjoyable to play. And people seem to appreciate what I can do.

Last Friday morning, I went along to a church where I had been engaged to play the organ on Sunday, in order to practise. I was met by a gentleman who I'll call Bill. Bill is in his sixties, I would guess; he's sung in the choir at this church for most of his life, and he assumes a role of deputy choir director when the regular organist / choir director is away, as he is now (which is why I was playing of course). Bill wanted to go through the service with me, and explain what I had to do, all of which was very helpful. Bill had iron-grey hair which was parted in a razor-sharp line and brushed perfectly to one side; he also had the typical expansive girth of the Oklahoman of a certain age (which is to say, almost any age you like). At one point, apropos of something which I now can't remember, he said 'It's a bit like the Federal Government at the moment - you may not like what they're doing, but you just have to accept it'. Ouch. I replied by saying, with a smile 'Well, let's not get into that!' I was worried that if we had got into it, I might have been out of a job for this Sunday.

As it was, I maintained my political neutrality and kept the gig. This particular church had only one service, at 11am. The building would have easily seated 1000 plus, but the congregation (I counted them) numbered around 50, most of whom looked to be over 70. It was just like being back in the UK. After the service, chatting to various people, it became apparent that membership has declined somewhat in recent years. Another church I've visited recently, close to where I live, is clearly in the same position. Maybe the churches in Oklahoma aren't all as vibrant and well-resourced as I thought. Maybe, even here in the heart of the American Bible belt, social trends are going the same way as they have been for years in every other industrialised country in the world.

Having sat through their service, I may have a suggestion as to why. The form of the service, the selection of music (not my own), the content of the sermon and the childrens' address, and the simplistic, sub-Victorian theology on offer, were so dull, uninspiring, and irrelevent to modern life of any description that I couldn't imagine that anyone would find it interesting or uplifting. One of the hymns I had to play (words and music by Clara H Scott, 1895) was the kind of mission-hall drivel which no-one in the UK has sung since 1956. (Actually, I think that's another reason why I'm popular as an organist - I tend to choose good music, like Bach, rather than the home-grown, tinkly 'contemporary Christian' stuff that most churches here seem to restrict themselves to.)

I wouldn't be surprised if, as in the UK, the only churches which are actually growing here are the charismatic, evangelical, gospel-guitars-and-tambourines, speaking-in-tongues megachurches. If, meanwhile, the mainstream denominations - which at least have a certain dignity about them - could move forward with the sort of progressive Christianity espoused for example by liberal theologians like John Shelby Spong, they might maintain some kind of relevance. But this is basically a very conservative culture, and I can't see that happening. Meanwhile, the younger generation, as they have everywhere else, will find enough alternative excitement and entertainment via technology and the consumer and celebrity cultures, and will simply stop going to church.

Cardinal

I've been trying to get a decent photograph of a cardinal for ages. They are spectacular birds; the male is bright scarlet in colour. Here's a male and female taken from my study window. You can't really see the true colour of the male because of the shadow cast by the tree, but it will give you an idea.

Barber

I got my hair cut yesterday. One of the best things about going to a barbers' shop in America is that the chair you sit in is mounted on a turntable which allows it to be rotated through 360 degrees. So whereas in the UK, you sit facing the mirror while the hairdresser moves around you, in the US the hairdresser stays in the same place and swings you round as required. Not only does this save them the needless exertion of walking around the chair and squeezing into awkward positions to get at various bits of your head (and we know Americans don't like to walk any more than they have to), it also provides some mild excitement and variety of view for the customer. Everyone's a winner.

Changing seasons

Storm

We had a thunderstorm last night. Not an uncommon occurrence here. I took these pictures as it was brewing.

We watched the progress of the storm on TV. When there's bad weather, the local channels suspend usual programmes and provide continous coverage, with live radar information, webcams, and analysis. It's pretty slick (in fact it's frequently far more entertaining than the programmes it replaces). At one point it seemed like a tornado might develop on the southern side of OKC (we live on the north side, luckily, and the weather was travelling south-east) but despite the classic 'donut-hole' formation developing, it didn't produce a tornado.

I'm also entranced by what seems to be a standard gauge for measuring the size of hailstones, which revolves around monetary currency and types of sports balls. Hail is described as 'dime-size', 'nickel-size', 'quarter-size', and then 'ping-pong ball sized', 'golf ball sized', 'tennis ball sized', and 'baseball-sized'. For a while I wasn't sure whether a ping-pong ball or a golf ball was larger, but apparently it's the golf ball. I'm still not sure whether or not a baseball is larger than a tennis ball, maybe because I've had no personal experience of baseball, and don't really have much of an idea how big a baseball is. Assuming it's roughly the size of a cricket ball, then it probably is larger than a tennis ball, but hmm... not sure. One I thing I do know is I wouldn't want to be outside in any of it!

America Unchained (with extra churches)

I've recently finished reading Dave Gorman's book 'America Unchained'. Gorman is a British comedian who decided he wanted to discover the real America. He had spent time in New York, LA and other big American cities, and had also toured America doing a one-man show, but he had become disenchanted with the bland, soulless chain hotels and restaurants of corporate America. So he decided he would do the classic American road trip, driving from coast to coast in a 1970s station wagon, but the catch was to be this: that he would not purchase any goods or services from chains. So the task was to find accommodation, food, gas and all other amenities from independent retailers.

Well, the trip proceeds with unpredictable and hilarious consequences, as you can imagine, and it's a fun read. But I was struck in a way by the similarities which his book has with my blog, in that he's a British bloke of about my age, who thought he knew America reasonably well, discovering things about the places, people and culture of middle America which were new to him. Indeed, some of his observations are uncannily like my own. Take this one, from towards the end of the book when he's driving through Mississippi:

"Outside of the towns Mississippi seemed to be mostly trees and churches. The road we took sliced through a blanket of evergreens, punctuated by the odd rust patch of something more autumnal and then suddenly, there'd be a patch of open land and set back from the road would be an enormous, gleaming white Baptist church. They were mind-bogglingly big places and I couldn't help but wonder where on earth they drew their congregations from. We might drive through a community with a population of less than 400 people and then two or three miles later find ourselves driving past a church that could surely seat 4,000. And then 15 miles later we'd pass another one. These churches weren't relics of the past: they looked new and shiny - white palaces not white elephants - so presumably they'd been built to satisfy demand ... Whichever way I looked at it, I just couldn't make sense of the vast capacity for worship. There didn't seem to be enough people or homes around to make the numbers add up. Maybe the people of Mississippi are really good at hiding? Or perhaps all those trees go to church and nobody told me?"

Although it's an urban rather than a rural area, Oklahoma City is just the same. The ratio of huge churches to residential areas seems strongly out of kilter. Last Sunday I played the organ at a church which has three services on a Sunday morning, and claims to have a membership roll of 1800. (To be fair I wouldn't say the combined congregations that Sunday amounted to more than half that). But what really amazed me was that at one point the minister said that a recent survey had shown that 'in this area' (and I don't know whether he meant OKC in general, that part of it, or just the streets around the church) only 40% of people went to church. 40%?? That's surely nonsense. Everyone in Oklahoma City goes to church.

What I did realise for the first time though was that the actual level of religious involvement of many of these people is quite limited. There was a strong sense which I picked up of a social obligation fulfilled. People filed in to church, sat and listened to the service, stood up and sat down in the right places, and immediately the service was finished they streamed out of the door, got in their SUVs and drove away. It reminded me of one time years ago when I was in rural western Ireland and attended mass at the local (Catholic) church. It was a vast, dark building, completely packed with people. At the back it was standing room only, and I was vaguely aware of the priest a long way away at the front, performing various ritual incantations with incense, bells, etc. As he did so, people would pop in and pop out, chat to their friends about weather and the current prices of livestock, and I'm sure there were a couple of children playing a game together on the floor. Attending mass was clearly part of the culture: something you did because everyone else does, not through any particularly strong personal religious conviction.

I had intended this post to be about Dave Gorman's book but I seem to have strayed into writing about churches yet again. So let me add one more quotation from America Unchained, this time from near the start of the book:

"New York and LA don't really tell you what life in the rest of America is like. To judge America on those two cities alone is to admire a man's bookends without reading any of his books".

How true. But it might be a more apposite metaphor if you imagine a shelf of bookends with a book at either end.

Things to do in Oklahoma City

My parents are visiting from the UK, so we've been going out and about doing those 'touristy' things that you never do unless you have visitors, or are a visitor yourself in some other place. So far we've visited the National Memorial and Museum, commemorating the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing (very powerful and moving), the State Capitol (seriously impressive, especially the debating chambers) and the Oklahoma Railway Museum, where you can have a short ride on a genuine American train, which I got the impression was a first time experience for many of the adults taking part, never mind the children.

Remaining on our list of possible places to visit are the Oklahoma History Center, the Oklahoma City Zoo and Botanical Garden, the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, Science Museum Oklahoma, and the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. I am still trying to persuade my parents to try the Oklahoma Museum of Telephone History and the World of Wings Pigeon Museum, but sadly they don't seem so interested in those...

Breakfast

Not my idea of breakfast...

The Oklahoma Spring Collection

Robert (2), from Yorkshire, UK, is modelling a stylish yet practical OU 'Sooners' anorak - perfect for those Oklahoma ice storms and chilly British spring mornings alike. His sister Daisy (7) is not modelling her 'Wholesome Oklahoma girl' t-shirt.

Wildfires

As if the tornados weren't enough...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7993435.stm

(Midwest City is just to the east of Oklahoma City, about 20 miles from where we are. We bought our car from a dealership there).

I'm good, thanks

Oklahoma-speak - or at least American-speak - is clearly seeping into the discourse of British teenagers more quickly than I'd imagined (see 'How to speak Oklahoman', 6 March). I noticed during the last two weeks, when I was examining in the UK, that most of the candidates answered my greeting of 'how are you today?' with 'I'm good, thanks' or some similar construction. I would always have said - and still would say - 'fine' or 'very well'.

It's like the other thing I've noticed for some time now, but haven't heard anyone comment on - the disappearance of what I think, from recalling my school French lessons, is called the imperfect tense. As in 'X just got better!', which surely should be 'X has just got better'. Or 'did you try the salsa dip?' as opposed to 'have you tried the salsa dip?' Surely the first of these suggests a meal which occured some time ago, while the second suggests a meal which is ongoing - yet in America, and increasingly in the UK, only the first construction is ever used.

The Famous Cock

Just for a change, instead of something amusing about Oklahoma which British people can laugh at, here's something amusing about Britain which Oklahomans can laugh at. I visited this pub in North London last week. For obvious reasons, its name could never be replicated here...

Tornado shelter

Perhaps it's a sign of how assimilated an Okie I've become that I didn't realise until a few days ago how amusing it would be to a Brit that, until very recently, we were seriously considering installing a tornado shelter in our house. The reason we eventually decided against it was that it is, on balance, probably an extravagance we can manage without. But in Oklahoma it's a reasonably standard thing, certainly no more unusual than putting in a loft conversion or installing a new garden shed would be in the UK. However, when I told this to a British friend the other day, she dissolved into hysterics (well, laughter anyway) at the mere idea.

Oklahoma is known as 'tornado alley'; in fact the film 'Twister' is set there, something I didn't know until recently. The fact is that there are tornados, and some of them can be very big and scary. I've already posted a description of a close shave I had a few weeks ago ('Tornado', 10 Feb). As far as I know, that's the only serious tornado there's been in OKC so far this year, although some more were predicted the other day which didn't materialise. So, given that you might perhaps expect to have one go through the city every couple of months while the season lasts (approximately February to November), I think it's pretty unlikely that you'd actually be unlucky enough to get in the way of a big one which would do serious damage to you, your house or car (or which would transport you to the mythical land of Oz - but that's only in Kansas, I believe). Unlikely, but not impossible.

But it's a fact of life if you live here, and my fellow Oklahomans - real ones, who've lived here a long time - are just used to it. As far as I can tell, most of them don't feel they need to go so far as to install a shelter, and are content to adopt their usual quite laid-back attitude to life; they just know that if one is about to hit they need to get in the bath, cover themselves with blankets, and prepare for the worst. This may seem odd given the facts of the matter, but to be fair, the IRA routinely planted bombs in London while I was a student in the early 1990s - I could, theoretically, have been blown to pieces at any point, and indeed one night, while in bed at about midnight, I heard a distant muffled bang which I found out in the morning had been an IRA bomb which went off a few miles from my house. But neither I nor my friends ever thought seriously about the danger. Mind you, this could have been because we spent a lot of time drinking beer, or so I recall.

So what of the tornado shelter? Well, they basically come and dig a big hole in your garage floor (that's garage, of course, not garage) into which they put a large steel box with a sliding lid, and then fill in the rest of the hole with concrete. The plan is that when the twister's on its way you descend into this box and sit tight while your house collapses around you, and several hundred tons of rubble falls on top of the box. When the danger's passed, you winch the lid open from inside and, hey presto, there you are. My parents said it's essentially the same as an Anderson shelter, which were common in Britain during the second world war.

You can find out more about them here. They have several entertaining and informative videos, including some marvellously scripted duologues between a potential customer and the cheery tornado shelter vendor: 'This being a tornado shelter, obviously it would have to take a lot of debris being thrown at it ... is there a way that you test for that?' 'Yeah, there sure is!' I was rooting for him to look crestfallen and say 'Er, no, sorry, we've never done that', but luckily Mr Tornado Shelter has an answer for every tricky sales question. I'm suspicious, though, because the customer appears to be dressed in the same tornado shelter clothes as the salesman.

The videos are persuasive, but personally I think drinking lots of beer might be a better option - certainly more enjoyable, and cheaper.

Home, sweet home

I'm currently in the UK, and I have come to the conclusion that, on the whole, I prefer it to Oklahoma.

For one thing, all my friends and family are here, and I've had a great time catching up with all sorts of people. Almost everyone in Oklahoma spends their time (a) working (very long hours), (b) raising their families, and (c) going to church (several times a week), with hardly any time left over for anything else. And most peoples' social lives revolve around these three things, particularly (b) and (c). So for someone like me, whose work involves travelling and working from home, whose family consists of a wife and a dog, and who doesn't go to church, it's almost impossible to develop much of a social life.

Also, a brief comment on current affairs. Is it just me, or is Tony McNulty's expenses claim being given a lot more media prominence than it deserves? I mean, the planet is melting, wars are being fought, the global economy is in freefall, and the British media is obsessed about the expenses of an obscure government minister?

Spring in Oklahoma

(This is the same tree which appears in the earlier post, 'Fall Colours', 3 November).

How to speak Oklahoman - a short quiz

1. What is the correct response to the greeting 'How are you?'

a) Very well, thank you
b) Fine, thanks
c) Good, how are you?

2. What should you say if you don't quite catch what someone has said?

a) Sorry?
b) Pardon?
c) Excuse me?

3. How do you attract the attention of a man whose name you don't know?

a) Excuse me?
b) Oi, mate!
c) Sir?

4. How do you attract the attention of a lady whose name you don't know?

a) Excuse me?
b) Oi, darlin'!
c) Ma'am? (pronouced to rhyme with 'Spam')

5. What is the correct response to someone who says 'thank you'?

a) Not at all
b) Don't mention it
c) Uh-huh

Clue: the answer is c) in each case.

Hairy Babies

As a dog owner, I've discovered that a common Oklahoma expression, when you want to be cute and endearing, is to refer to a dog as a 'baby'. I was in a pet store the other day buying 'kibble' (dry dog food), and the cashier asked me what kind of baby I had. I wondered if she knew something I didn't, until I realised she was actually asking me what breed of dog I owned.

Recently we've been trying to find somewhere to board our dog when we go away. Today I drove to four kennels to check them out. It became clear that the further out from the city I drove, the nicer they became. The final one I visited was about half an hour's drive south of Oklahoma City, and it was the best of all - lovely facilities in a delightful rural setting, run by an extremely nice lady. I had initially phoned them because I was very taken by the name of the establishment: 'Hairy Babies'. I imagine quite a few of my friends in the UK will refuse to believe that our dog is going to stay somewhere called Hairy Babies, but I assure you it's true. Moreover, when you phone them up, the owner answers the phone by saying 'Hairy Babies!', which is reasonable enough in the circumstances I suppose, but must be very disconcerting if you've phoned a wrong number.

Initial concerns that our dog, being a whippet, might not be considered hairy enough for this establishment, proved unfounded.

Nutters at Oakville

OK, I'm really, really sorry about this, because it will probably offend some people, but I couldn't resist it. I'll change some names to preserve anonymity, but otherwise this is all completely accurate.

Looking for possible job openings yesterday, I found this:

'Christian Faculty Jobs: Music Theory / Composition Professor, Oakville University. A full-time, tenure-track position teaching Music Theory / Composition on the undergraduate level. Secondary areas of teaching may include, but are not limited to: music technology, music education and/or additional areas based on the candidates [sic] strengths and the needs of the department...

'Oakville University is a comprehensive, primarily undergraduate, Baptist university of arts, sciences, and professional programs with an enrollment of over 3,000. It combines a evangelical, non-charismatic, theological position [sic]. Faculty, who must be born-again Christians, must agree with our doctrinal statement, and Community Covenant and General Work Place Standards. In addition to teaching excellence, expectations include Biblical integration of faith/learning, student advising, scholarly pursuits, service activities, collegiality, and church involvement.

'Please direct inquiries to Dr. Simon Walters, Dean, School of Humanities, or his assistant, Ms. Sue Nutter at 123-456-7890 or nutters@oakville.edu. Applications accepted until position is filled.'

Churches (2)

Well, after previous comments I'm delighted to be able to write a positive post on this subject. Yesterday I walked up to a nearby church to talk about occasionally deputising there as an organist.

What impressed me most forcibly was the sheer size and scale of the building, and the whole operation which is run from it. I had seen the church before from outside, but it was only when I went in that I realised quite how extensive the complex is. In fact in many respects it wasn't like going into a church; it was like visiting a swanky set of corporate offices. This is simply a local church, but in the UK you would only come across something like this at a cathedral, or maybe one of the big evangelical churches in London, or the national headquarters of a certain denomination.

When I arrived, I went into a reception area which had two or three desks with official-looking people tapping away on PCs. There was a door through which I could see a corridor leading away to more offices. When the music director met me, she took me into the main church part, which was absolutely enormous, and very beautiful. The organ was built in 1987, three manuals, 40 ranks, perfect condition, beautiful to play. On the other side of the church was a wide 'piazza' space which had originally been outside but was now covered over. Later she showed me the 'educational suite' - a long corridor leading off to several more rooms. There were many more offices, a sizeable choir room ... it went on and on. It is a modern building, I wouldn't say more than 30 years old (just over 20 if built at the same time as the organ), well-designed, light, airy and in impeccable condition.

As an operation, it clearly employs a sizeable staff. This was a Monday lunchtime, but there were a number of people buzzing around, including a friendly young lady, dressed rather like a business executive, who was introduced as 'an associate minister' (how many do they have?). Everyone I met was very nice, welcoming and friendly. The music director is full-time; she runs two adult choirs, three junior choirs, and a handbell group, and co-ordinates all the music which takes place in the church; she told me she frequently struggles to get everything done in the time available. She is the organist; they also employ a choir director.

There are two services each Sunday morning; each attracts around 300 people. The really extraordinary thing about this is I happen to know there is another church of the same denomination one block away, which looks to be about the same size as this one. I would be surprised if there were 300 houses between the two churches. Yet there are also, of course, several churches of other denominations too. And we are not even talking about one of the more charismatic, evangelical, populist churches - this is, as far as I can tell, quite a mainstream and liberal denomination.

Looking round this building and meeting the people who work there, I began to understand more about why churches are so important here. If, when you think of 'church', you think of a large, modern, light, airy, spacious, well-equipped and well-resourced building, full of nice, friendly people, buzzing with activity throughout the week, which not only holds services but also has thriving music, educational and community outreach programmes, I suppose it doesn't seem so unappealing as the drafty, underfunded, under-resourced Victorian edifices you often find in the UK. If 'church' is something which is a regular part of life, often the bedrock of one's entire social life, for almost everyone in a community, rather than attracting only a small combination of well-meaning do-gooders, religious zealots and Jesus-anoraks as is so often the case in the UK, it perhaps seems less strange to want to be a part of it.

What is America? - or, Paytriotism (2)

Every so often, you read a book which profoundly alters your way of thinking. That's happened to me recently. The book in question is What is America? by Ronald Wright, which was given to me as a Christmas present by my father-in-law.

Those who like their politico-historical writing balanced and even-handed won't appreciate Mr Wright's book. But it is a pacy, colourful, and fascinating read. It's essentially a re-telling of the story of America, but it glosses over most of the well-known and often-told stories (Columbus, the Declaration of Independence, the Civil War, etc.) in order to explode some of the myths and, as he claims, lies about American history.

For example, he shows that the original European settlers (or 'invaders', as he calls them) arrived not in a virginal wilderness peopled by a few nomadic tribes, but in a sophisticated and civilized country, whose inhabitants had large towns, farms, and established political systems. He goes on to describe the Europeans' treatment of these societies - which included deliberate eradication by disease and ethnic displacement as well as more conventional warfare - as 'genocide'. Later, he expounds on America's imperial strategies in the 19th century, for example invading and occupying Hawaii and the Philippines for no real reason, and of course culminating in the tragic and ill-fated military adventures of recent years - Korea, Vietnam, Iraq. He also shows how the plundering of American wealth - particularly gold and minerals - helped to finance and make possible the Industrial Revolution in Britain.

Of course, there are always other ways of looking at things. I've no doubt many Native American tribes were as bloodthirsty in warfare as popular imagination suggests. And you can't judge morals and prerogatives of hundreds of years ago by the standards of today - for example, the Europeans obviously thought they had a divine imperative to 'civilize' the barbarians, and if they were triumphant in battle, that was the will of God. So I don't necessarily feel personally responsible for what my ancestors did. But at the end of the day - as Mr Wright says - we invaded their country, not the other way around.

Most importantly, what happened did eventually pave the way for the birth of a new country which had a profound effect on the Enlightenment, and set (until recently) global standards for freedom, equality and human dignity - even though the treatment of African-Americans, in particular, has always compromised those ideals.

Reading this book has certainly made me think again about how America got to be the way it is. It may be 'a great country', as I said in an earlier post, but I didn't quite realise before at what cost this was achieved.

Yellow grass

This was the thing I liked least about Oklahoma City when I visited this time last year, in anticipation of my eventual move. All the grass was yellow. Apparently this is quite normal - it goes this colour in the winter, and becomes green again in the spring. I really don't like it.

The grid system (3)

Building numbers on avenues do not go by block - they go by street number. So a building on the corner of 37th street will be numbered 3700 (or thereabouts).

Maybe, in fact, this is also the case for buildings on streets? - but it's hard to tell as the avenues in OKC have names rather than numbers.

I really will stop going on about this now.

Tornado

Well, it's finally happened - I've had my first tornado experience. As I was coming out of the supermarket earlier this afternoon, I noticed that the sky seemed very black, and as I was loading the groceries into the car, the sirens started wailing. I drove home and turned on the TV, just as the weather forecaster said that a funnel cloud was passing right across the nearest intersection to my house. I briefly thought about getting the dog and hiding in our coat closet (it's right in the centre of the house, furthest away from the windows and outside walls, which is where they tell you to go). But in a short while the danger had passed.

More bad weather systems have been forming to the south-west of OKC all afternoon, but they are generally not becoming tornados, and merely remaining as severe thunderstorms with high winds and 'baseball-sized hailstones'. So that's all right then.

I happened to phone our insurance agent a short while ago, and he said that the first funnel cloud had passed right by their office - they all watched it go by, sweeping up various bits of street furniture. It continued north-east to Edmond, a town just to the north of OKC, where it touched down and became a real tornado for about 10 minutes. The TV showed live pictures of it, a massive black twister, with huge bits of debris being thrown around. It went through residential areas and across a motorway. Funnily enough I was supposed to be driving to Edmond this afternoon to teach a piano lesson, but unsurprisingly that's been postponed.

It's only February. Tornado season starts around now and continues to November. I certainly hope we don't get too many more of these!

Work (3)

Before I moved to Oklahoma, a friend from the UK, who had spent a few months working here in the past, told me: 'Oklahomans work very long hours, but they get almost nothing done.'

It's true. The working day typically starts at 8am (even 7am is not uncommon), and often continues to 6pm or later. The salesman from whom we bought our car told us that he sometimes works 90 hours a week - of course he may have been exaggerating, but I think it's quite likely, as car dealerships are usually open to about 9pm Monday -Saturday, and he ususally seemed to be there when we phoned. I suppose he has an incentive to work such long hours as he's paid largely by commission. That's probably one reason why salespeople here are so attentive and friendly - though Oklahomans are naturally friendly anyway, and the service culture is definitely better here than in the UK.

Most people here work full-time, including many people (well) over 65. It's usual for both parents of a young family to work full-time: hence the wasp-striped school buses, ferrying children to and from school in their parents' absence. Part-time jobs usually consist of evening and weekend work, as it's assumed that anyone applying for a part-time job will be looking to fit it around their full-time one.

Add on church (typically two or three times a week, Sundays and Wednesday evenings) and the assumed heavy commitment to one's family, and your time is pretty much fully taken up. I think this is one reason why middle America is the home of the drive-through (fast food outlets, banks, pharmacies) - people simply don't have time to visit these establishments in what I would regard as a more conventional manner.

Other aspects of employment law and conditions don't help. Paid holiday and sick leave are paltry by UK standards, and even a routine visit to the doctor or dentist has to be taken as sick leave. If you're ill for more than about 10 days in a year, you have to take unpaid sick leave; and in a country where there's no universal health coverage (ie. your chances of getting better quickly might be lower than if that was not the case), that's not helpful.

Apparently, Oklahoma is what's called an 'at will state', which means employers can pretty much do what they like. For example, I am aware of a university which is requiring its staff to work 7.30am - 6pm for four days a week, for three months in the summer, in order to save on air conditioning bills. Not only are they allowed to do this (in the UK it would almost certainly be illegal, and if tried, the unions would refuse to comply) but, even more incredibly to me, most of the employees affected seem to think it's a good idea.

All these rules (hours, sick leave, etc.) are quite strictly enforced. The one card the employee does have up his or her sleeve is that very often, no notice period is required - you can just decide not to turn up for work one day. Hence, I suppose, the occasional dramatic scenes you see in American films where the employee announces 'I quit!', packs up his things, and strides out of the door. I think of Lester Burnham leaving his boring job on a magazine in American Beauty, or George W. Bush giving up work on the oil patch (as I believe it's called) in W. Not quite as dramatic as the British version, which would be 'Right! I'm giving you my contractual month's notice, which I will work in full as I need a good reference from you!'

At the same time, Oklahoma is enough of a hillbilly state to have a rather laid-back attitude to life. There's never any rush to get anything done or to get anywhere, and things can usually wait; so even though everyone spends a lot of time at work, they're not necessarily being very efficient or productive when they're there. It's rather like someone who keeps their house obsessively tidy, but then you discover stuff is crammed any-old-how into drawers and cupboards. I suppose it's a mixture of the Puritan work ethic and the slow, Southern way of life.

Vocabulary (2)

I really thought by now I must have discovered all the differences between British English and American English, but I've just discovered a new one. Americans do not use the construction 'double' (or 'triple') when reading out a number or spelling a name (eg. 'double zero' or 'double m'). They always say each digit or letter individually: 'zero zero', 'm m'. I've often wondered why I've had such trouble spelling the name of our road, which has two consecutive letter r's, over the phone. Now I know.

The grid system (2)

Regular readers of my blog - and I know there are some, so hello to you - may be interested to know that I've updated the post called 'The grid system' (19 Jan - now retitled 'The grid system (1)') as I had a few more observations and thoughts to make. Sorry, but I find this subject completely fascinating, even though I'm sure many of you don't!

Work (2)

A milestone was passed yesterday - I taught a piano lesson. This is the first official work I've done and been paid for in the USA (as opposed to all the other work, which is being paid for from the UK).

Seeds of Samson

For those who like their cereal bars with a religious theme...

A taxing problem

The deadline for filing UK income tax is 31 January. You can only file online now - the paper deadline passed some time ago. I need to file, as I have employed and self-employed income to declare for the last tax year, when I was fully resident in the UK.

Accordingly I went online between Christmas and New Year intending to file. Lo and behold, you have to register, following which they send you an activation PIN in the post, and only after you receive this PIN can you actually complete the process. Well, I'm still waiting for my PIN to arrive. Apparently it was sent on 5 January. It's supposed to take 7 days to receive - but that's in the UK of course, not in Oklahoma City.

I've also received an email to say that if I don't activate my online registration by 4 February, the PIN will expire and I'll need to start the whole process all over again. This produces the possibility of a never-ending cycle of applying for PINs which then expire before they arrive, stretching away into infinity.

Yesterday I phoned both the Inland Revenue and the online filing company (which, of course, is a separate, private company, contracted by the IR to perform this service) to complain. I spoke to two ladies in call centres, by the sound of it in Glasgow and Newcastle respectively, each of whom told me there was nothing they could do to help, and advised me to phone the other one for advice. It would be quite funny if I wasn't facing the very real possibility of having to pay a penalty for late filing.

Snow and ice

I remember around this time last year, we were aware that there were 'ice storms' in Oklahoma City. These sounded pretty scary - I had visions of sheets of ice cascading from the sky. Well, we had an ice storm yesterday, and it's nothing like that. It's not really a storm at all, in the sense that I understand that word. All that happens is that it rains a bit, then because the temperature is just below freezing, the rain freezes as soon as it hits the ground, leaving a thin film of ice over everything. (Why it would rain when it's below freezing is the bit I don't understand - I'd always understood that rain turns into snow when the temperature's below freezing).

Anyway, this film of ice makes it so slippery that it's almost impossible to drive or walk anywhere, and if the ice accumulates enough it can bring down power lines. Apparently last year some homes were without electricity for over a week - not something you want to happen in temperatures like this. At the moment, because of the weather conditions, most public buildings have closed, and the Governor of Oklahoma has declared a state of emergency in some parts of the state - although I understand that's mainly because it entitles us to financial aid from the federal government.

I took these photographs this morning. It snowed during the night, so you can't really see the effect of the 'ice storm' any more.

Green card (2)

In order that I could get a visa allowing me to live and work in the United States (the famous 'green card'), my wife had to sponsor me. We had always assumed that, being married to a US citizen, my right to such a visa would be automatic should I ever wish to apply for it. But in fact, it wasn't so simple. The application process, which we did through the US Embassy in London, was torturous and took several months to complete. There was a lot of beaurocracy and form-filling; a lot of gathering of documentation and information; a lot of waiting for them to get back to us; some hefty fees; and repeated phone calls to the £1.20 a minute helpline only to get answers which, if they weren't vague to the point of uselessness, contradicted information we'd had earlier. I had to have a medical and a police check. And, as I didn't have a job to go to in the States, my wife had to show that she had the means, and agree to commit, to support me financially - including for a further ten years should we get divorced.

It soon became clear that, although on paper there was no reason why I shouldn't be granted the visa, it was in fact completely discretionary, and depended entirely on a decision made by one immigration official at the Embassy. Well before we got the result, I had resigned from my job, we had sold our house, and my wife had left the country to make preparations for starting her new job - so it would have been a bit of a problem if the answer had turned out to be 'no'. In the event, it was all fine, and indeed the Embassy official told me that the portfolio of documentation we submitted was the most thorough he'd ever seen. That's what you get for being married to a librarian.

On the way to the airport yesterday, the taxi driver asked me about the visa application process. He explained that he was interested because his wife has also applied for the right to join him in the States. She applied seven years ago, and she's still waiting. She happens to be Mexican.

New Jersey

I'm currently in New Jersey - Bergen County to be precise, which is just across the Hudson River from Manhattan and effectively a suburb of New York. It's as different from Oklahoma as the UK is. A sprawling urban jungle; dirty, busy, noisy and smelly; full of rude, offhand people, rushing about and driving terribly. A cultural melting pot: black, Jewish, Asian, Hispanic, Indian, East European. It's invigorating, uplifting, and exciting: I love it.

Decorative Words

This is (to me) a strange idea - decorative words. I noticed them in Hobby Lobby the other day - you can buy them to put on your wall or mantelpiece. They're very popular here. Words like 'love', 'dreams', 'family', 'faith', 'sickly' (OK, I made the last one up). When I first saw them, I had an enormous and sudden desire to commission some which would suit my British sense of irony - 'doubt', 'annoyance', 'depression', 'cynicism'.

But perhaps after the momentous events of yesterday, such sentiments are misplaced.

The grid system (1)

At last, I've worked it out. The enormous numbers which are used to identify houses in the US (and Canada come to that), frequently running into the thousands, have always mystified me. I could never work out why they were necessary. For example, we live at number 2809, but there are nowhere near 2809 houses in our road - in fact there are barely 28. So why such numeric amplification?

I finally realised why the other day. We had a parcel delivered, addressed to the previous occupants of our house. I tried phoning UPS to explain, but after several minutes wrestling with the automated voice recognition system ('Say 'pick up' to arrange a pick up, say 'track' to track a parcel, or say 'lose the will to live' if your enquiry doesn't fit neatly into one of these five very limited options we have decided in our wisdom to offer you') I gave up and decided to deliver it myself. Their new address was not far away, quite close to the 'downtown' (city centre) area.

The road I needed was 15th Street NW. I already knew this meant it would be north-west of the city centre, 15 streets up from the nominal 0th Street, in fact called (slightly confusingly) Reno Avenue here (in the American grid-system, Streets usually go west-east while Avenues go north-south - anyone who's visited Manhattan will know this). So I drove down Pennsylvania Avenue until I hit 15th Street, and turned right (west) onto it. The numbers were far too high and going higher (I needed 1005), so I turned round and started going back (east, towards downtown). I noticed that the numbers on the houses were round about the 2800 mark. What a co-incidence, I thought - similar to my own house. And then I realised that it wasn't a co-incidence. I was directly south from where I lived, albeit several miles south. And the numbers here were the same.

As I drove east, I realised that the first two digits of the house numbers were getting progressively smaller - 27, 26, 25, 24 - more quickly than the quantity of houses would seem to warrant. They do the same thing on our road, going east. The reason why they were getting smaller so quickly was that there were only ever a few houses - say 4 or 5 - for each of these initial numbers. Typically, they might go 2612, 2608, 2604, 2600 ... then you'd get 2512, 2508... etc. I realised that each of these intial numbers (26, 25 etc.) covered a distinct distance. It obviously wasn't a full 'block', as these are a mile square - they were obviously sections of blocks, or mini-blocks.

I also noticed that all the even numbers were on the south side of the street, and all the odd numbers on the north side - just like our street. The only thing I couldn't work out, and still can't, is why the numbers go in fours, not in twos like the British system. In other words, what happened to 2602, 2606 and 2610? They don't seem to exist. But again, it's consistent - our neighbours are 2805 and 2813, while over the road are 2808, 2812 and 2816.

After I crossed the next major avenue, I noticed that the numbers had gone down to 19, 18... And then it hit me - the distance covered by each is precisely one-tenth of a block, because the initial digit corresponds to the block itself. Numbers beginning with a 2 are obviously 2 blocks away from the city centre - although to be precise, they will be at least two whole blocks away and therefore in the third complete block, because houses in the first block have a nominal zero in the front, so you get numbers like 908, 912 etc. - it's like when you are 37 years old (as I am now), you are actually in your 38th year of life. And presumably really near the centre, there are even coveted two- and even one-digit addresses - wow, imagine the cachet they must bring! - although thinking about it, I suppose they should also exist further away from the city centre, branching off either side of 0th Avenue.

It struck me that the beauty of this system is that if you know that the address of the building you want is, say, 1712 NW 49th Street, you should be able to pinpoint pretty much exactly where it is, on an actual or mental map of the city - 49th street north of the centre, one and three-quarter blocks west, south side of the street. And this will be the case even if - as is the case with our road - the street in question doesn't extend across the full extent of the city, but starts and stops somewhere in the middle. The numbering will start and finish according to its geographical position relative to the city as a whole. In the UK, if you're told that an address is 28 Watson Road, you have absolutely no idea - unless you consult a map or just happen to know - where Watson Road is, or which direction it goes in, or how far along the road the building is (the numbering could start from either end). Having said that, you don't, of course, know where Reno Avenue is unless you happen to know it's also 0th Street, so the system only works in full for numbered streets and avenues, as opposed to named ones. I suppose even Americans find a complete absence of street names a bit clinical.

And by the same token, you often get the same street or avenue name being used in completely different parts of the city, because of course sometimes roads don't extend all the way from one side to another without a break (there are things in the way, such as shopping malls, freeways, railroads, schools, factories, etc.) For example, there are bits of Shartel Avenue running right the way from the extreme north to the extreme south of Oklahoma City, even though they are effectively completely separate from each other, and in some cases a very long way apart. That's quite confusing to a British person, but again, very logical when you think about it.

I remember reading somewhere that the American grid system of city planning was first established in Philadelphia (was it Jefferson who invented it, or someone like that?) and proved so popular that it was swiftly adopted by all subsequent cities. I already knew that the grid system was logical and made it very easy to get about, but I hadn't appreciated before the full extent of the practical ramifications.

One thing still bothers me. Where we live, eleven blocks north of the centre, you get addresses on the avenues like 10100. Logical, certainly - but how do you say this number? I fervently hope it's 'one hundred and one hundred' (like 'twenty seven hundred') and not the persuasively shorter but clearly logically incorrect 'ten one hundred'.

And what about the house I was looking for, 1005 15th Street? It didn't exist! There was a park in the way. I found out later I had the wrong address. But it wasn't a wasted trip!

Misunderstanding

A few weeks ago, I went for a haircut. (Yes, I lead an exciting life). The hairdresser was an Asian lady; in fact I discovered in conversation that she was from Cambodia. We started chatting about life in Oklahoma City as an immigrant, and about how it compared to things back home. I said that in general, the cost of living in the UK was higher than here, but the one really good thing was that everyone got free healthcare.

'Really?' she replied, seeming almost shocked. 'Yes', I replied. "Well, there are charges for certain things, but in general it's free.' She seemed absolutely amazed.

The other week my wife went for a haircut. (She leads an exciting life too). When she got home she said that the hairdresser had been an Asian lady, and they had got chatting. 'Apparently', she said, 'this English guy came in a few weeks ago, and told her that in the UK everyone gets a free house!'

Will Rogers World Airport

This is a picure of Will Rogers World Airport, the main airport in Oklahoma City. Its strapline is 'the gateway to your community'. I'm pleased to say that it also serves as the gateway out of my community.

I like the designation 'world airport'. Presumably it's called this because from here you can catch a flight to any one of, oh, a dozen US destinations, and from some of these you can catch a further flight to somewhere else in the world. More likely, you will have a further change of plane before you can do this. On the same principle, you could call the railway station from which I used to commute every morning 'Goring and Streatley World Railway Station'. You can get to most places in the world from there, but it might not be that straightforward.

Snobbery

It's a common misconception that the British class system is not replicated in the egalitarian US of A - in fact, all my experience suggests otherwise. How anyone can argue that the poor unfortunates living in the ghettos of New Orleans are no different to the middle-class families of suburban America with their perfectly manicured lawns and two kids attending soccer coaching on Saturday mornings is a mystery to me. And the idea that, despite differences in the starting-point, it's more possible here to achieve the 'American dream', through hard work and subsequent social mobility, is laughable when you consider that pretty much the only way to get a college education here is to pay for it - in full. And pretty much the only way to get to a good college is to get good grades by attending a good high school, which means your parents have to live in the right part of town. (Or, indeed, the right town).

And just like in the UK, class snobbery, or something very like it, is endemic. When I was over here in February, while my wife was attending the interview for the job which she was subsequently offered and accepted, I briefly visited Indianapolis on business. Specifically, I stayed in Carmel, which is a small town to the north, a suburb really, very 'arty' and well-to-do. While there, I was invited to a party at a huge private house which stood in a tree-lined drive with a security gate at one end. During the evening I told more than one person that, although I was from the UK, I was soon likely to move to Oklahoma City. The responses I got generally consisted of strangulated smiles and phrases like 'Oh, how interesting! Oklahoma City? I don't think I've ever been there... well, I'm sure you'll find it very... interesting.' It was just as if, as in fact I was once in the position of doing, you told someone who lives in Henley-on-Thames that you were about to move to Slough. 'Slough? Well, it's certainly very... er... multi-cultural.'

I've just got back from a trip to Minneapolis, where I once again had the same kind of response, this time from an academic at the University of Minnesota, during a meal at a Chinese restaurant. On mentioning (inevitably) that I was missing many things about the UK, she replied: 'well, in Oklahoma you'll be missing a lot of things about the USA, too.' It was my turn to give the strangulated smile.

It's clear that many wealthy, educated people in the East Coast and affluent Mid-west view Oklahoma as a kind of redneck backwater, containing nothing but farms, pick-up trucks and Republicans. Well, about 80% of it does consist of farms, pick-up trucks and Republicans, but having lived here for five months now, I am beginning to feel the impetus to defend it - after all, it's my home, at least for the moment. For a start, Oklahoma City itself, in fact, is not at all unsophisticated - there has been a lot of development here in the last few years, and a wander through Bricktown on a Saturday night will offer a goodly supply of lively cafes, bars, restaurants and jazz clubs. Before the election, there were at least as many signs out for Obama as for McCain, certainly downtown. There are several universities, museums, a symphony orchestra, ballet and theatre companies. OK, it's not New York, but in fact when you are less spoilt for choice you tend to make the most of what you have, rather than ending up not bothering because there'll always be something some other night.

What are the other good things about Oklahoma? Everyone is very friendly, likes to chat and pass the time of day. People do seem to really care about their family, friends and neighbours. Never once have I felt rejected or awkward as an outsider; instead, people are generally fascinated that I have come to live here from the UK, and are very welcoming. There is lots of space and it's easy to get about. The economy, despite the current global downturn, is good - in fact I heard on the radio recently that the US states which are doing well at the moment are the energy-producing ones, and Texas, Alaska and Oklahoma were specifically mentioned. Shopping is excellent - a great variety of stores, lots of choice, lots of parking, very good service, and good prices.

OK, I'm not saying that I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Frankly, I'd rather be in Minneapolis (it's a lovely city). And there are many things here that I don't like. But it's strange how you develop an affection for any place that you end up living in.