The American Dream is (NOT) dead

Welcome to America, ladies and gentlemen. It’s 2019.

This flag stands at the door of a second floor entrance, most commonly used by me to enter and exit my office at the Okemah News Leader.

The historic building and the family that owns it, the Thompsons, wear their character on a sleeve that dangles in the breeze like this solemn American flag.

They are wonderful people, and I am proud to be a part of their family … at least, those are my words … I’m not saying they claim me as a family member, but I love them.

And I love this building and American frontier-like businesses that are within it to this day.

It’s quite amazing to see the place run each day — smart, educated, classy, and, most importantly, loving people pointedly working inside its antique walls, getting things done with such seriousness, yet also seeming laid back, friendly and welcoming.

The matriarch, as far as I know the family, is named Pamela Thompson, a wonderful being that runs a super busy flower shop, office supply store, general store and variety store (full of amazing products, covering a vast variety of things you may or may not expect to find … point is it’s a great store). The store has frequent, consistent, daily, repeat and first time costumers gracing its doors each day, and there’s nothing she or her store will not do for those customers.

The newsroom, or newspaper area of the historic building, where my office sits, is close to all that goes on each day, and I frequently try and help in the store, the flower shop, or wherever I’m needed. I certainly now buy my Dr. Peppers and pens, pads and stationary from nowhere else but Pam’s store, which is just a walk out the door of my office to get to.

I probably annoy the shit out of Pam and Brenda, the all-around-do-anything-asked-of-her-type person that holds the position of esteemed secretary of everything. I’m sure a lot of days they wish I’d shut up with my fantastical, skeptical and no-holds-barred dreamy conversations. Maybe not, I don’t know. They are all sweet to me, and I appreciate it.

The patriarch — again, as far as I know the family — is a southern man named Roger Thompson, State Senator of the 8th District of Oklahoma. He recently got appointed to the position of Chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee, a rigorous, time-demanding seat in the State Legislature, one of the highest and most important. He is a former pastor, has a doctorate degree and owns the Okemah News Leader and the subsidiaries I’ve thus far spoken of.

If I could imagine a perfect character to play a role as an American senator — twice now voted to the seat of Oklahoma State Senator of the state’s 8th District — in some movie or novel I will someday write, Roger Thompson is the perfect model to base that character on. Everything about him exudes his character — a stern but lovable man with set-in-his-ways-type viewpoints, putting forth respect towards other people and always trying for fairness. The way he speaks and carries himself, everyday sporting a sweet suit, everything about him, says politician, says southern gentleman (both politician and southern gentleman here being something to strive for, not to be used in the way most people would use politician or southern gentleman as if with some negative connotation).

I can only hope that all other state politicians are half the type person Roger has shown me to be in my short time of knowing him from a fairly close distance, as his employee. I know and truly believe he wants to do what is absolutely best, fair and equal — falling within the view of the lenses of his worldview — for the people of the district within this state of Oklahoma that he represents. I’d like to hope the other legislators are as diligent, respectful, honest and sincere as Roger is, seemingly always trying to do what is best for others in his life … a man of the people. But I doubt I’m that lucky. I bet most would fall short of Roger’s character, and that I mean with all my heart.

Finally, the Okemah News Leader, this great newspaper of Woody Guthrie’s hometown … When I first got the opportunity to freelance sports and city government reporting for the News Leader, probably about summer 2016, I did not know at that time the kind of lasting relationship I was taking part in building. At that time, the publisher (editorial boss and everything newspaper related boss) was Lynn Thompson, son of Pam and Roger.

One thing I will right now and quickly note, even without knowing Pam and Roger that well, through their children, Lynn and Kay (who I will get to shortly), I know I am right about their greatness.

Their children have been so good to me — that taking plenty of patience because I’m no easy case to mess with.

Anyway, Lynn taught me a lot and kept me working. I thank and love him for that. I moved on to other things, and Lynn and I kept in touch, even meeting on many a Thursdays at little establishment in the downtown of another city I was working as a sports editor in. He has since moved on to a job that his mother says he really loves, working for a policy, legislative and educational ‘think-tank’ in Oklahoma City, but I am truly so thankful to have met him. It changed my life and led to where I am today.

That’s because, you see, I’ve worked for them ever since — freelancing consistently and off-and-on over the last three years — and now, as of the turn of this new year, 2019, I am their full-time staff reporter, covering everything I am asked to cover.

Lynn passed the torch to his younger sister, Kay Thompson, a young, early-thirties woman with ambition, intelligence and many talents … oh, yes, and she’s beautiful, just to add a cherry on top. I mean that, obviously, with the utmost respect for Kay, and I mean beautiful in all ways it can be meant — forgive the cliché, if you will, beautiful on the inside and out.

She’s one of the best bosses I’ve ever had the privilege of working under, and she, as my boss and publisher of the Okemah News Leader and as a friend, has done so much for me. She’s helped me more than I can ever really repay and made the move to this new city to work for this newspaper one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

She’s also — just in case it were ever believed that I don’t know this — onto any of my bullshit, holding the ability to look right through any weak attempts by me to half-ass anything. I love her most for that. She, maybe without even knowing and probably not caring, will make me a better person, holding me accountable to a standard you’d think a 31-year-old wise guy like me would have down already.

I will never not work for Kay, the News Leader and this family, as a journalist, reporter, as anything I’m needed to be — that is, unless they run me off. That’s possible … but I’m going to try my best to be the best I can be for them.

And plant my roots — even if shallowly at first, growing deeper as I get better at being a human — in this town in which is the home to this American dream and home to the one and only, the greatest activist, Woody Guthrie. It’s truly an honor and privilege to be here. I’ll be a better man for having had the opportunity to work for and continue to work for the Thompson family.

I say all that to say: This is proof; the American Dream is not dead. Look at this small, Oklahoma town family that makes so much happen. They not only are successful, but they are fun and friendly, pious and pretty. They didn’t ask to be those things, for it was a product of the draw. The Thompsons got good cards, but nothing is handed out. They work hard everyday and all day. They represent the America that is there for the taking, but it does take work, persistence, dedication and dignity.

It turns out, their American Dream has become my American Dream. I’m a man that is so peculiar and eccentric. I’ve gone through much — mostly probably self-inflicted — and am the type person that can wear on you. However, this family not only supports me but allows me a place to have my work published and everyday have a job as a journalist, which is something I wear like a badge with such pride.

Mainly, they do it all with humility and kindness. I know this and say this because I see it everyday, and that, inasmuch as it can be described and even if I am a white, cisgendered, privileged male in the South, still means something. It does mean something. I’m not saying the Thompsons are perfect or above any other person or persons, but I am saying they are America. They represent — at least in this little essay — the conservative, hardworking America I was raised up hearing about, raised up within and around.

A small town newspaper kinda flourishing, despite the difficulties of that in 2019, and a flower shop, print shop, office supply store, variety store and, basically, a general store that runs busily everyday, again, despite the difficulties of all that in 2019.

It’s wonderful to watch. It’s even more wonderful to be a part of. All I’ve dreamed about is being a full-time writer, using my words to make my living, since I can remember. I get to be that everyday. My American Dream is still alive and bubbling over, despite anything else. It’s, at least in some large part for the time being, because the Thompsons are living their entrepreneurial American Dream.

I am awfully grateful to them for do

ing that.

Cheers to the American Dream.