I've learned...

….that declarations of love and adoration are only good when you WANT to hear them.

In matters of dating I’m a cynic. I’ll openly admit that. What I won’t openly admit is that I’m also a closet romantic. My favorite movie of all time is “When Harry Met Sally”. I love the witty banter. I love that the two main characters start their relationship completely annoyed with each other. I love that Sally’s friends are constantly pining for love…and that secretly she is too. I love the cinematography of NYC in the fall. But most of all, I love that they actually get together in the end. I doubt that movie would have been nearly as good if they had both gone their separate ways but still been “friendly”.  If she had gone back to President Ford’s son or if Harry had continued to sleep his way through all the single women on the Upper East Side it would not have made it on my “Best” list.

Secretly pining for love is clearly NOT the subject of Disney/Pixar’s new movie “Brave”. I saw it recently because I’d been told it was the best one yet. I loved the premise of the story…”young princess is faced with finding her true self when her parents try to marry her off for the good of the kingdom.”

I like stories about self-reflection. I also like stories about princesses. But I really like movies with British/Scottish/Irish accents. So I was excited about seeing this movie. I’m not gonna lie. I left the movie feeling a little gypped. Why? The story was good. The animation was state of the art. The music was catchy. I left that movie unsatisfied because there wasn’t a “prince”. She didn’t wind up in the end with anyone. Sadly, the closet romantic in me craves the girl-gets-boy happy ending and this film just didn’t deliver.

***Snip**Snip**Snip** - that my friends is the sound of Susan B. Anthony, Margaret Sanger, and Gloria Steinem furiously cutting up my Feminist Club Card.

Where I’m going with this long movie intro is here:  I’ve had raunchy luck with men and yet I still hold on to that faint (and somewhat tarnished) hope that true love is out there and all good people are entitled to finding it at least once.

Don’t get me wrong…I love men. I have two younger brothers that crack me up, drive me crazy, and inspire me all at the same time. They “get” me. I also have a wonderful father who I’m sure keeps thinking…”someday Sissy-pie will find a nice guy who will spray her house for bugs and trim all her trees so I can stop doing it.” I appreciate men.

So why it is so challenging for me to find a sane one to date is beyond me, but I keep trying. The hopeless romantic in me keeps plugging away at it. I go on blind dates. I go on double dates. I try online dating. I’ve even let my mother set me up for crying out loud. But to no avail.

The latest debacle was promising at first. We were mutually paired on an online dating service. We exchanged emails and texts then a few phone calls. We moved on to meeting for drinks. I feel like meeting for drinks is pretty non-committal and nearly fool proof. I mean, if things aren’t going well at least you didn’t waste much time and you got a drink or two out of the deal.

We decided to meet in Stillwater because I was there on a Saturday for sorority business and he was going to be there for a friend’s engagement party. My first red flag should have been when he told me who the friend was and I immediately thought to myself…”Ew! That guy’s a douchebag!”  The second, and more glaring, red flag should have been when he unjokingly asked me to come with him to the party because he didn’t want to go by himself without a date.

We met for drinks at this cute little wine bar. By the time I got there at 8pm he was already (clearly) several Jack & Cokes into his evening. The guy, who we’ll refer to from this point forward as Short Stop because he played HS baseball, was not unattractive. He was a nice size for a man his age (43) and seemed to keep in good shape without looking like one of those gym-rat-idiots who compulsively flex their biceps. I sat down and ordered a glass of wine. He ordered another J&C (I’m guessing #4). We do the preliminary chit chat. I asked about his family, school, etc. He nervously played with his swizzle sticks. I continued to ask questions. He never once asked about me. His collection of swizzle sticks continued to amass so I ordered another glass of wine.

We are now a little over an hour into drinks. And let me clarify that I don’t consider that a “date” because there was no food and he didn’t officially “ask” me out. I have literally only known of this man for a couple of weeks. I’ve actually known him less than it takes my dishwasher to do a load of dishes. So you can imagine my surprise when he clumsily grabbed my hand and said enthusiastically…”I have a really good feeling about you. I really hope you’re my last first date.”

Now the sound he would have heard, had he been remotely sober and not 4 sheets to the wind, would have been the same sound anyone in earshot of our conversation heard….that of screaming tires plus the rancid smell of burnt rubber as I metaphorically sped away.

About that time I started plotting my exit strategy. I hit the ladies room for a breather and an emergency gal-to-gal talk with myself in the mirror. I needed to work out whether Short Stop was just being very sweet and open and I was being a cynical bitch OR (and this was far more likely) he was sugarplum-fairy-CRAZY and I was simply reacting like any sane woman would. I deduced that I was indeed NOT the crazy one and strolled out to announce that it was time for me to leave.

As I approached the bar I noticed that he was building something, Lincoln Log style, out of his swizzle sticks. The fact that he had enough swizzle sticks (and thus enough J&C in him) to actually construct a structure was beyond unattractive.

“Wha-cha building there?” I asked like an idiot.

“Oh…just our house,” he awkwardly laughed. “So where do you see yourself living in 5 years?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said I. “Probably in the same house I’m in now." My subtle attempt at informing him that we would most certainly NOT be setting up house together in the next five years seemed to fall on deaf/drunken ears so I plodded on.  "So! Are you ready to go? I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to teach Sunday School,” I lied. Side note – I vow to start teaching Sunday school soon so the Lord doesn’t strike me down for using that as my get-out-of-a-date-early card.

Short Stop stumbled me to my car. I asked him if he was okay to drive home. He assured me he was as I leaned in for the sideways “nice-to-meet-you” hug. He clearly misinterpreted my side hug as a sign of affection and decided to plant a big kiss on me. And here’s where this became a debacle.

Short Stop wasn’t a half bad kisser. In fact, he was pretty good. Good enough to elicit a skeptical 2^nd date.

More on the 2^nd date later, but for now I’ll leave you with the wisdom gained from this encounter: Had we been dating for several weeks and I’d had the opportunity to get to know him when he wasn’t drunkenly building houses with his swizzle sticks his “I hope you’re my last first date” declaration might have seemed sweet and maybe even endearing. However, on a first meeting it just seemed creepy and not just a little desperate.

I've learned....

…that you should never take credit for someone else’s victory.

I love the History Channel. Not the crap they have on there though with rednecks fishing for alligators or “noodling” for turtles. I have no interest in that business. However, give me a weekend of Revolutionary War documentaries or anything involving WWII strategies and I’m in nerd heaven.

Last week was the 4^th of July. While most people spent Wednesday morning icing down their beer or getting the homemade ice cream started, I spent the morning curled up on my couch with my coffee watching the first of 12 hours of Revolutionary War documentaries. I didn’t get to see all 12 hours…but to my nerdy relief…found that you can download it from Netflix.

Most of the episodes focused on General George Washington and many of his ill-fated early battles. They went into gory detail about how under-funded our rebel army was and how completely over our heads we were when it came to duking it out with the greatest military presence of the time. Much of what they highlighted was either stuff I never learned about in school or had just simply forgotten.

However, out of the many generals they talked about that I didn’t remember at all…one name came up that EVERYONE knows…Benedict Arnold. This man’s name has been vilified and added to the list of those found in very specific realms of hell along with Judas, Hitler, Nero, etc. Does the guy deserve to be a part of that infamous list? By the history books he was one of the most notorious traitors in our country’s history. What many of the history books leave out is that he was also a highly decorated general in the continental army. He was instrumental in securing the fort at Ticonderoga, he went into debt by donating so much of his own money to “the cause”, and had it not been for his daring leadership the battle of Saratoga would have gone a different direction.

Sadly, throughout his military career Benedict Arnold had been consistently “passed over” for promotions by congress in favor of more politically essential war heroes. At the battle of Saratoga, General Gates not only wussed out and nearly cost us the battle, but later went on to take credit for Arnold’s wise move and ultimate success on the battlefield.

Watching that made me ponder…”Would I have reacted in the same way if my loyalty had been brought into question and the credit for my success been taken by someone else?” In my professional career I have always made an effort to acknowledge the successes of others. I pride myself on being a team player and putting the success of the team above my own personal success. Has it hurt me? Of course! I’ve been stabbed repeatedly in the back by people I thought were friends or at least team-mates. I think as a woman it’s difficult to feel entitled to “toot out own horns”. We’re raised to be demure and unassuming. Boys, on the other hand are raised to relish in their success and tout it…without being a braggart of course.

My point here is this; I’ve learned to never take credit for something I didn’t do or for someone else’s success. By taking someone else’s well deserved, and hard earned, credit you cannot know just how quickly you’ll turn a great patriot into a hated traitor…just ask Benedict Arnold.

I've learned...

…that no matter how“safe” your world is if something happens to your mom...you get worried.

My mother is quite the social butterfly. She was never in a sorority in college and has spent the last 40 years of her life making up for that. She is in every possible “social sorority”, church group, and book club they have in Ada America and this spring she started a Bunko club (because she clearly didn’t have enough to do).

She has lived in Ada long enough to either have taught everyone’s child at school OR know them from when my brothers and I were in school. There isn't a baby shower in Ada complete without her name on the invitation as a hostess nor a wedding sufficiently celebrated without Debby energetically "shaking it" on the dance floor at the reception. She is a five foot-three inch ball of scatter-brained energy…and everyone loves her.

Every year when she gets her new calendar for the year…she takes the old one and transfers all the “important” dates onto her new one. Now for most of us that consists of birthdays and anniversaries. For Debby Wallace that encompasses birthdays, anniversaries, the day that I wrecked my Prism in 1996, the day my brother, Travis, won MVP at the Wrangler Bowl in 1997, the day baby brother Trent graduated from medical school in 2007, my dad’s retirement party in 2010, the day the Pyrex dish exploded in her had in 2010, and various other random family facts.

She is the gal you go to when you can’t remember your address from 12 years ago because she’ll have it written down on some random calendar. She remembers all the names of my friend’s children and pets and remembers to ask about them, sadly more often than I think to ask about them.

She sends me “single awareness day” (aka Valentine’s Day) survival packs and always remembers my dog’s birthday with a box of cookies and a new toy.

Some of my greatest memories of childhood are running up the long driveway from the school bus, bursting through the front door, and smelling the familiar scents of freshly vacuumed carpet and snicker doodle cookies hot out of the oven. Those were the days mom was a stay-at-home-mom.

My mother is a caregiver. When I was schlepping through the months of chemotherapy after being diagnosed with colon cancer, my mom was at my home every treatment weekend. When I could eat…she’d cook. When I couldn’t…she’d make runs to Walgreen’s for ginger ale. When I was tired…she’d clean my house. And when I was awake and alert…we’d watch movies or read People magazines.

I’m used to my mother always being in good health and taking care of everyone else. So when she called me this week to let me know she had been in a horrid car wreck that had totaled her car, my heart immediately took an elevator drop to my stomach. Hundreds of questions zoomed through my mind, not least of which was…”are you okay???”  Although she was highly medicated and still a little shaky from the experience, she assured me that she was indeed okay.

That sudden increase in my blood pressure and immediate feeling of dread that something bad just happened to my momma was a reminder to not take her for granted. It reminded me that no matter how safe I feel in my little cocoon of a world…that in the blink of an eye it can all go south.

But my mother, always the selfless lady, made sure to let me know that while she was being worked up by the EMTs she was taking note of which cute firemen and EMTs were NOT wearing wedding rings. Oh mom…***sigh***.

2012 PEEPS!!!!

***This post has been edited from it's original version.***

Well, as many of you may be aware...I broke my foot about 7 weeks ago. That being said, I received the following phone call Saturday afternoon whilst trying to sneak in a quick nap at my child-free casa.

Me: Hello?
Mom: What doing?
Me: Napping.
Mom: Well I just wanted to call and let you know that everyone here (at Trent and Courtney's) has decided that due to your foot we are not going to do PEEPS this year.
Me: Uhhh...the fact that I have a bum foot does not negate the use of my hands. I can still do my PEEPS box.
Mom: Well...we've just decided this year since no one brought boxes...
Me: Bullshit!
***Click***

Considering the fact that Lawson ate all the Orange PEEPS I was going to use for my "Pregnant Snookie" PEEPS in the News box...here is what we were left with this year.

I salute Jackson for doing his very first solo PEEPS Show this year. In sticking to the "PEEPS in the News" theme this year...Jackson did an aerial view of the deck of the Titanic.

You'll notice the deck chairs and the one PEEP that has been shot. Jackson is nothing if not a stickler for details. He wanted to make sure that we all knew that during the abandoning ship phase...some peeps got shot.


Yet another view of the Titanic. From here you can see the water lapping just over the bow.











Considering the fact that we only have two entries this year...we will not be holding the annual PEEPS SHOW VOTING. But feel free to leave any comments you like.

As I stated earlier, Lawson was hog-tied and force fed my orange PEEPS that I was going to use for "Pregnant Snookie" by Uncle Trent in a last ditch effort to persuade me to NOT do the PEEPS this year. However, after 3 years of doing it I realized we had a responsibility to our fans. So I quickly changed direction and worked with what I had at hand. Arguably it is not the best PEEPS Show ever...but you do the best with what you've got. And in that vain I present to you..."The Royal Wedding"...

You'll notice Princess Catherine and Prince William on the balcony of Buckingham Palace just after the ceremony. To her right she has two little bridesmaids. Clearly Pippa is not in this photo as it would have been a little too risque to do a PEEP in her notorious bridesmaid dress.



From this vantage point it might be difficult to see that no detail was over looked...down to Prince William's receding hairline.








Well folks, there you have it. The Wallace Family PEEPS Show 2012! Please tune back in next year for what everyone promises to be a FULL family affair for "Rock-n-Roll PEEPS"! Watch out for laser light shows and smoke machines next year!

Ahh March...In like a lion, out like a lamb? Let's hope so!

Well since my last post much has happened. I went on a lovely coffee date with a lovely British gentleman that didn’t pan out, and oh yeah…I broke my foot. So much for the good Karma I was banking.

I wish I could say that I broke my foot doing something amazing like jumping out of a hovering helicopter onto the white powder of a Colorado ski run, or saving a small child from a speeding bus. Alas, it was nothing that exciting. No I broke my foot walking UP a set of stairs at work. Yeah, real sexy. So now I’m in a bright orange cast up to my knee for the next 6 weeks. Though not conducive to finishing my “couch to 5k” program OR meeting attractive, OKC singles…I am hopeful that it will elicit a few “sympathy gifts” from donors. It’s also proving to be an interesting study in human nature.

Having grown up in “The South” I thought we all had good manners. I grew up believing men held doors and pulled out chairs for ladies. I was taught to respect my elders and help those who couldn’t help themselves, which is why I always hold doors open for people in wheel chairs and give up my seat in a waiting room to an elderly person.

What I’ve found since I broke my foot is that apparently the rules of civility no longer apply in today’s age. On a recent trip to Lubbock I had a horrid male flight attendant who not only didn’t offer any help at all to me but proceeded to make me feel like I was ruining his day…if not his life…just for being on his flight and needing a little extra TLC. I was also confronted with a restaurant waiting area full of men sitting down and not one of them got up to offer me their seat. I was appalled by this for three reasons: 1) they were men. Aren’t men supposed to offer their seat to a lady whether she’s able bodied or not? 2) ANY person sitting who sees someone who is clearly disabled/handicapped should, in polite society, give up their seat for that person; 3) I was in FRICKING TEXAS! Don’t those Texas men pride themselves on being gentlemen???

If nothing else, this temporary handicap has made me vastly more attune to offering help when it looks like someone might need it. No one has ever been accused of rudeness for holding a door open for someone with a handicap. It is also reminding me that I cannot do everything myself. I pride myself on my independence, but at the end of the day I need to remember that asking for help doesn’t make me weak…it makes me human. This time has also allowed me the opportunity to be truly grateful to my friends and family who continuously offer their help and support. Not a day goes by that I don’t have a friend offering to do my grocery shopping for me or a neighbor offer to take my trash cans to the street.

Perhaps the lesson to be learned this month is not to come from my volunteer experience at the hands of others but rather through my own personal experience. Perhaps I need to stop relying on bouts of cancer or broken limbs to push me to a grinding halt long enough to express gratitude for all the extraordinary things in my life. Perhaps the lesson is that I need to be more aware, day-to-day, of God’s little graces and do a better job of expressing my gratitude.

With that in mind here is my appreciation list this week: Opal, the best United flight attendant; Larry for lending me an orthopedic scooter for FREE; Trent for coming to pick me up and get me out of the house before I lost my mind; Luz for cleaning my house; my crazy neighbors for taking my trash to the street; May for bringing me a flower today; my friends for helping me up off the floor last night when I fell; Joyce for offering to go to the grocery for me; my parents for coming this weekend to help with chores; Shannon & Ted for my get well card; Aunt Cindy for doing my laundry; the staff at the Overton for making sure I had a handicapped room; and finally the nice lady in line behind me today at lunch who offered to carry my salad to my table for me.

Single Awareness Day

So way back in my college days, this cynic coined the phrase “Single Awareness Day”. This phrase quickly took off as an alternate for Valentine’s Day. One of my dear pledge sisters and I still exchange Single Awareness Day cards and goodies.

Now don’t make the mistake of thinking that I celebrate the anti-Valentine’s Day by wearing black and totally “gothing out”. As much as I profess to be a cynic…there is a small part of me that still enjoys the contrived celebration of love. (Which is probably why I still subject myself each season to The Bachelor but that’s a subject for another blog.) As such, I still dress up in red or pink or a combination of both in celebration of the promise of Valentine’s Days to come.

Today I awoke with the annual dread of slogging to work only to be bombed from every direction with people professing their undying love and devotion to their spouses or amores on Facebook to seeing vases and vases of flowers coming into the office and carried around by every woman in a 50 mile radius. Ahh…me…ahh…life.

Instead I was greeted with the beautiful hyacinth to the left…given to me by my “totally rad” boss. Still wallowing in the glow of newly wedded bliss…the boss bought all the ladies in the office these beautiful flowers due in no small part to his “feeling the love” in his own life. Whatever instigated the show of appreciation and adoration…I’ll take it. It’s not often a single gal gets flowers on Valentine’s Day!

So Happy Single Awareness day to all my fellow “singles” out there! May 2012 bring you unexpected passion and joy…whatever form that comes in.

"Love is tough!"

Feb. Week 2

“Love is tough.” That’s what I learned last week during my tutoring visit to Northridge. As my group of 5 kiddos and I walked to the library I noticed a little hand shoot out from the girls bathroom along the way and hand Gregory an intricately folded note.

“What was that all about?” I asked.
“That’s Gregory’s girlfriend!” Christacia said.
“No! It’s my EX,” corrected Gregory.
“So what’s going on?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Well, we broke up and she wants me back,” said Gregory.
“They’ve broken up eight times already this year," offered Lauryn. “And she’s YOUR color.” Which I took to mean she is white as opposed to Gregory’s being African American.
“Yeah, she cheated on me and I’m not sure I want her back, “ he said.
“She likes all sorts of guys. She’s a ‘ho’,” offered up Jake.
“Yeah…love is tough,” Gregory said with an exasperated sigh.

Aside from being completely entertained by this whole encounter, I was a little disturbed by what these 3rd graders are dealing with. When I was in 3rd grade I was still playing with dolls. Not Barbies (which I feel are the older girl’s doll) but baby dolls. I was riding my bike with my brothers and throwing rocks in the creek. Worrying about a boy “cheating on me” wasn’t even in my mental or emotional vocabulary. But children mimic what they see adults doing. I mimicked my mother cooking, baking, and generally “mothering”. These kids are mimicking their parents and/or care givers breaking up with spouses, lovers, etc. When did it become okay for children this young to be burdened with the yoke of break ups, deception, and heartache?

What does it say about us, as adults, that we unintentionally (or otherwise) burden our children with knowledge that is far beyond their comprehension? Do we forget that they do not have the life experiences that we have had? Do we neglect to offer them the same uninhibited, drama-free childhoods we had?

Earlier last week I found myself apologizing to a friend for not being more conscious of the language I used while on the phone with her. I didn’t realize her two young children were in the car with her and that I was on speaker phone. My parents did a wonderful job “watching their language” as we grew up. I rarely remember hearing my parents utter a foul word. Certainly NOT the colorful expletives my generation uses on a daily basis...not for impact but rather as daily adjectives. So sad.

I offer up that we, as adults, should take on the burden of being…well…adults. Let’s conscientiously limit the heartache our kiddos endure by thoughtfully limiting their exposure to situations, words, innuendos, etc. that are completely out of their realm of understanding.

Wouldn’t we rather see 3rd graders mimicking super heroes on the playground rather than the emotional drama they see at home? Let’s learn to respect our children’s childhoods and learn to close the door on adult situations.

February

Northridge Elementary

So this month I started volunteering at Northridge Elementary School. My dear friend, Mrs. Harstad, teaches 3rd grade and invited me to join her class every Tuesday for the month of February to tutor a few of her kids in reading. Thank God she picked something that I’m good in. I would have had to turn her down if she said she needed a math tutor as I fear that my math skills have possibly deteriorated past the 3rd grade level.

Even though my mother has worked in elementary schools forever, it seems, I haven’t actually been in a classroom in ages. The first thing you notice when walking into any elementary school is the smell. The smell of sweaty little kids and lunch. Northridge Elementary is no different. Have you ever noticed that little kids have a very distinct smell of sweat, fresh air, possibly laundry detergent, and some mystery scent? It’s almost as if there is a special perfume…au d’elementary.

Lunch is a whole other story. No matter what they are having, whether it’s mac and cheese and chicken nuggets or pizza…all school cafeterias smell the same. And that smell doesn’t change. I swear Northridge smelled exactly like Hall Halsell in Vinita, OK did when I was there 28 years ago.

My escort was an adorable little girl with a brown bob and glasses. She was quite the responsible little hostess and was very good at walking and conversing. I learned that she loved Mrs. Harstad and really liked math the most.

As I entered the classroom several little bodies shot out of their seats. Do you even remember the last time you got excited enough about something to “shoot out of your seat”? Neither do I. One little guy was so excited that he started to immediately peel off his jacket. Mrs. Harstad explained to me that she had told the children that we went to OSU together and that I now worked for the university and asked people for money. After I assured the children I wouldn’t be asking them for money the little guy in the back who took his jacket off informed me that he was a HUGE OSU fan. And indeed he was, as he was orange from head to toe. I’m not sure that kid could have found anymore orange clothing to wear.

I got my marching orders from Mrs. Harstad and headed to the library with my four students in tow. We spent the next 15 minutes planning a reading comprehension game. Right up my alley! After those 15 minutes we headed back to class where I picked up my next student. We returned to the library where she proceeded to read me a story about a dog who goes to obedience school. I was so engrossed in the story that we almost missed our time limit. There is something so incredibly relaxing about being read to in the middle of the day. I decided I’d be a horrible teacher as my class would simply read out loud all day long and probably never do any math.

Elementary schools across the nation are always looking for responsible adults to volunteer and help in the classrooms. You don’t have to be a certified teacher to help. You just need to be a caring, responsible adult with an interest in supplementing the education kids are getting in the classroom.

There are lots of other opportunities to help with after school mentoring or tutoring programs as well. I hope you would consider taking one hour a week to volunteer in a local school. It’s just your lunch hour. In the time that you would spend surfing the net, online shopping, or running to a fast food restaurant…you could be impacting a child’s education in the most positive way.

January

Well, my ultimate plan didn’t work out like I thought it would. Apparently volunteers are very easy to come by in OKC (which is a good thing) and not that many people were overly enthusiastic about having me volunteer for a month. They were looking for “more of a commitment”. Whatever. The ones who did agree to placate me will be featured here this year.

For January, due to the lost week during the Fiesta Bowl, I decided to focus on my work with the Oklahoma County Tobacco Use Prevention Coalition. Since I am board chair I thought I’d go ahead and toot my own horn on this valuable group.

History
After the big tobacco companies settled their MASSIVE law suits each state got money. Oklahoma did a really great thing and immediately put their settlement into a Trust otherwise known as TSET. That trust now funds several different state coalitions, departments, etc., that focus on the health issues of prolonged tobacco use.

My coalition focuses on Oklahoma County and really is used primarily for education and legislative issues. We show up at health fairs and pass out information on the health risks and how to stop smoking to those who want to. We do several different media events to shed light on the manipulative ways tobacco companies market their death sticks and work with legislators to enact legislation that will improve the health of Oklahomans state wide. We work hand in hand with other groups like the OK County Health Dept, American Cancer Society, the Heart Association, etc.

Currently, in January, we have been focused on gearing up for the state legislative session starting in February. Last week I was interviewed by our local FOX 25 station regarding two pieces of legislation that would restore local rights to municipalities regarding clean air laws. This legislation would not impact the age to sell to, nor the taxes levied on tobacco products, nor even the products themselves. It would simply allow cities and municipalities to enact their own laws (that may or may not be more stringent than the state laws) regarding tobacco use in public places.

Why is this important?
1. Currently Oklahoma ranks in the bottom 10% of states in regard to “health”. Tabulated into those rankings are the rates of obesity, heart disease, asthma, and deaths from cancer (just to name a few). What do high rates of all those things have in common? High rates of tobacco use.

2. In this age of a shitty economy everyone is scrambling tooth and nail for jobs. What do most companies look at when evaluating cities to locate their business in? Quality of living. What is one of the key issues related to Quality of Living? Health rankings. Our high levels of work days lost and high insurance rates are two main things that can discourage businesses from locating in Oklahoma.

Jobs are scarce people. Luckily (thanks to the Oil and Gas Industry) Oklahoma has weathered the storm pretty well. But every state is scrambling and offering all sorts of tax incentives and breaks to get companies to locate their jobs in their state. We are competing every day against Texas for new businesses and jobs. Texas keeps winning out for several reasons…least of which is that they enacted preemption laws several years ago.

3. Cities and municipalities across the state have the ability to set their own ordinances regarding fire protection, police, EMT, etc. All preemption would do, would be to allow them the same ability to enact ordinances that relate to clean air in public spaces.


Grassroots at it's best
Like I said in the first blog entry…this journey this year will hopefully inspire you to engage in community and non-profit projects in our OKC community. If tobacco use prevention or local rights issues are your thing please look at getting involved in this issue.

There are many ways in which to get involved. You can contact any of the organizations listed below for more information. You can also contact your state representative and senator and let them know you whole heartedly support HB 2267 by Rep. Cox (a physician no less) and SB 1032 by Sen. Simpson. If you don’t know who your legislators are you can easily find out by going to www.oklegislature.gov and typing in your HOME address. Always remember that who you vote for is determined by where your house is located…not business.

Also, Smoke Free Oklahoma will be hosting a lobbying day at the state capitol February 21, 2012. Pre-registration is crucial so make sure you visit their website to sign up.

Organizations
www.smokefreeok.com
www.occhd.org/oklahoma-county-tobacc-use-prevention-coalition
www.occhd.org/community/wellnessnow
www.cancer.org
www.heart.org

Remember this is just a sample of the groups who work on tobacco issues. For groups in your specific area and for tobacco issues outside the state of OK do a Google Search of local coalitions and groups.