Woody Guthrie Museum

My wife and I decided to take a short road trip, check out some antique stores, eat some delicious and nutritious Mexican food – my idea not hers - and spend some time away from the hometown. I was born here, raised here and God knows I’ll most likely die here, so any time away is a good thing. Now, I’d like to say we just hopped in the car like two rebels on a quest to find truth in a world ablaze with mediocrity, but that would be a lie. We decided beforehand to visit the lovely town of Jenks, Oklahoma. Why you may ask? Do you have a deep spiritual connection with the city that must be explored? No, it's nothing that exotic, I really love Los Cabos Mexican restaurant and Jenks is much easier to navigate than Tulsa. That’s the long and short of it. Nothing more, nothing less. We spent the day shopping, laughing, and generally enjoying life until I made the fateful decision to visit the Woody Guthrie Museum. I know, right? It sounds so benign and uplifting. I’m here to tell you, it was anything but uplifting. But before I go any further, I need to clarify that this isn’t a review of the museum. I have no doubt it’s a wonderful institution. But the cold hard truth is we never entered the facility. After spending approximately fifteen minutes navigating heavy traffic, we arrived in the lovely arts district of downtown Tulsa where twenty-something hipsters with pearl snap shirts, high water Levies and ironically clean work boots were strolling casually down the sidewalk. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Chris, aren’t you an artsy type too? Yes, I am. But, I’m more of the small oilfield town, wearing high water jeans will get your ass kicked kind. But I digress, I have no animosity toward hipsters. The travesty was the total lack of free parking…anywhere! For God’s sake, this is the Woody Guthrie museum! The man who wrote This Land Is Your Land, helped unionize workers and generally fought for the working class. It seems wrong to have paid parking at a museum that honors his legacy.