In 1955 my grandpa used oilfield tubing and corrugated sheet metal to build a shop at the corner of 3rd and Birch in Yukon, OK. Then he slid the two huge front doors of Olmstead Machine Co. open for business. It was a machine and welding shop that mainly serviced oil field equipment and the occasional farmer with broken equipment. My dad began working with his dad there as a teenager. Sometime in the early 80’s my dad bought it from his dad and took over operation. Then I began spending my time on vacation from school at the shop with my dad. I used to love Christmas break because I had almost two weeks to be at the shop with my dad when it wasn’t so hot. I’m sure at some point in time both my dad and I shared a dream of me taking the shop over from him. I suppose the oil bust in the mid to late 80’s finished off those hopes as well as the shop itself. The shop has been closed down for years now and this week my dad closed the sale of the building and the land. The corner lot at 300 Birch, Yukon, OK no longer belongs to an Olmstead.
So, here are some of my favorite memories of growing up at 300 Birch; as I remember them.
BB GunsI remember setting up aluminum can shooting ranges on the metal racks and scrap pile out the back door of the shop. Out that door, with my single cock BB pistol and .22 caliber air rifle in hand, I won many Olympic sharpshooting medals and won countless hard fought battles against faceless bad guys. Thankfully the cans never fought back.
The AtticI remember the day I finally mustered up the courage to climb to the top of the ladder that led to the attic. I had flirted with the height for weeks, each day daring myself to go one rung higher; many days loosing my own dare. Once in the attic a whole new world of possibilities opened up. Many mornings I would head straight for the ladder and not come down until my dad called for lunch. I think I spent one entire summer up there. I found stacks of popular science magazines from the 60’s and 70’s. Once I uncovered several small four cylinder engines used on WW II bombers for auxiliary power. I pulled one down and tore it apart. It was to be the power unit for a home-made go cart I designed in my head (while sitting in church), but never built. But on the day I conquered the ladder I was faced with another challenge. Just a few steps into the attic there was a slat missing from the 2x12 boards that made up the attic floor. It took another several weeks before I summoned the nerve to step over and enter this brave new world.
The TractorI remember sitting in the seat of the tractor parked inside the shop door, gripping the steering wheel, and running through the gears as fast as I could, all while re-living the few great moments in auto sports that I knew. I won the Indy 500 more than any driver in history and was a legend in my own mind.
Foot-longsI remember lunch trips to the NAPA auto parts store or Kierkegard’s hardware store on Yukon’s now forgotten main street. One day after stopping at the Arrowhead drive-in to pick up a foot-long hotdog for lunch we made one such run to the NAPA store. My dad said to leave my foot-long in the truck while we ran in the store. I took this to mean that I could take as much of my foot-long into the store as I could fit into my mouth. So I crammed most of the elongated hotdog into my mouth, leaving the chewing for my wait inside, and followed my dad into the parts shop. I jumped up on my usual rotating stool at the parts counter and tried to begin enjoying my lunch only to find I had bit off more than I could chew. I’m not sure how long it took for my dad to notice that I couldn’t quite breathe, but when he noticed my blueing complexion and slightly bugging eyes he quickly grabbed me by the arm and took me outside the shop. He bent me over and slapped me hard on the back a couple of times and out came the better part of my foot-long lunch. He didn’t even make me go back into the store.
Elevator GeneI remember Elevator Gene, the crazy character that worked at the Yukon Farmers Co-Op grain elevators, gunning the engine on his 4-wheel-drive pick up announcing his passing with the blast of noise from his muffler-less exhaust pipes. My dad would look up from whatever he was doing and holler, "Hey Gene!" Gene often came in the shop and used words I was not familiar with at my house. My dad later told me we probably shouldn’t use those words. One day while my dad was working to mount a stubborn tire on a wheel Gene came by and offered his services. He just went and grabbed a huge sledge hammer and beat the tire into submission and then exclaimed, "Just get a bigger hammer!" I realize now that this was probably his entire philosophy of life.
The HouseI remember before my granny died going to "the house" for lunch. We would slowly drive the less than half a mile to the house my dad grew up in. I preferred going the back way, down the ally, over the railroad tracks, through the cement mixing plant and past my great-granddads’ farm where the old red barn still stood. My granny would often make us breakfast for lunch, this was my favorite. After a mid-day pancake feast we would sit in the front room and watch a little of my granny’s favorite soap opera, Days of our Lives. My grandpa would nap in his chair for a little while (with his head back and mouth open wide, my dad called it catchin’ flies) and then we would head back to the shop to play for the rest of the day.
Checking the MailI remember taking quick trips to the post office to check the mail. It was there that my dad taught me to hold the door open for others and especially for ladies. I would always run to the door and try to be the first to hold it open for whoever might be on their way in or out of the post office. As I held the door I always glanced to see if he noticed my good manners. He always did.
Painting the RoofI remember the two summers I spent painting the roof of the shop with a thick silver paint. I say two summers because it took me most of the first to paint one-half of the roof. My dad paid me by the hour for the work I put in that summer. During the school year between I found something that I desperately needed money for. So, I persuaded my dad to advance me the money for the other side of the roof with the agreement that it would take me about as much time to finish the remaining side as I had spent on the first. The next summer I finished the other side in less than a week’s time.
Dairy HutI remember hot slow summer days when my dad would say let’s close up and go to El Reno for lunch. This meant riding in the air-conditioned cab of my dad’s pickup sandwiched between my dad and granddad for the drive to Dairy Hut in El Reno. According to my dad there has never been a better burger than you could get at this greasy walk up burger joint. I always had regular burger with only cheese, tater tots and a .50 cent drink eaten back in the cool comfort of the pickup cab. I remember the three nameless white Styrofoam cups lined up on top of the soda machine with the price of the drink written on each with a black marker. There was the .50 cent, the .80 cent, and the dollar drink. The dollar drink seemed like an ocean of soda, more than anyone could ever hope to drink, yet still the object of this young boys craving. One day, after my dad had rebuffed repeated pleas for a dollar drink, I turned to my grand-dad. It didn’t take long to break him and I was in possession of the biggest cup I could imagine. I’m sure I probably left half the soda in the cup.
Big GulpsI remember stopping in at 7-11 for a Big-Gulp on hot summer days. It was the first days of the serve yourself fountain drinks. I was always tempted to fill it up, take big drink and then top it off again. But my dad would never let me. "You pay for what you get" he would say. Anything else would be stealing.
The DriveI remember the drives to and from the shop. Sometimes on the way home I’d say, "Can we please go ‘under the bridge’". Then as we approached the South Canadian river my dad would pull off onto the old road and drive across the river on the old metal works bridge running parallel just south of new concrete bridge; just because I wanted to. In the morning we would get out early to beat the summer heat, climb into my dad’s green ’72 chevy pickup and head for Yukon. If I was lucky we would stop at Hardee’s for a breakfast biscuit. It was always one sausage biscuit and one jelly biscuit, although I left the jelly unused. My dad and I had so many talks on that 20 minute drive down US 66. I remember times when we seemed to run out of things to talk about. Since I just loved talking to my dad I would ask him a question I already knew the answer to, but knew would require a lengthy answer; he always answered and the conversation always continued.
The RadioI remember the sounds of Barbra Mandrell, Kenny Rodgers, The Oak Ridge Boys, and Dolly Parton carrying throughout the shop from the small radio in the back tuned to KEBC; Keepin’ Everybody Country. I always got a little excited when Elvira came on, (it’s still on my ipod today) but I tried to contain my enthusiasm as I knew my dad was always partial to the Statler Brothers. The radio played all day long and I remember how quiet the shop seemed at the end of the day when my dad switched the radio off just before we latched the back door, pulled the front doors closed and went home.
I guess the doors are now closed for good. In reality I suppose they were years ago. And I have shed more than a few tears while writing this, as I’m sure my dad will while reading it. I wasn’t there when it was built and I won’t be there when it is torn down. But for the past 50 years there has been a lot of life and a lot of life lessons built at that corrugated metal shop at 300 Birch.
I had the pretty dancer and the OU football player. 
Hudson enjoyed painting the face on his pumpkin.
Bobbing for apples....the best part were the moms who had to show the kids how to do it!! Way to go girls! 
The kids quickly got the hang of it....Hannah getting her apple!
Needless to say....Hudson really enjoyed this activity. He ended up bobbing 3 or 4 times. 
Mr. E helping Hudson get dizzy! 
Way to go Hudson!!! 
Hannah taking time to pose while getting dizzy.
Did I mention Hudson REALLY liked bobbing for apples. Actually, Hudson was just getting really really wet. (at this point I would like to point out how HOT it was tonight)
Stopping off at some friend's house for some candy. 
Since we live on the 6th floor, we decided to have Rob sit outside of our aparment building with candy. Too much trouble to walk all the way up then all the way back down. (please notice the sweat....I think it is supposed to be cold by Nov.?) 
This is the street in front of our apartment complex. Right now the city is covered in flowers, There is a big international trade exposition in town and they have made the whole city beautiful.
Hudson on the back of the bike ready for a morning ride.
First we stopped at Mickey D's for some breakfast. Hudson loves the sausage and eggs. Hudson never misses the chance to climb a good tree. 
After checking out the bridge we headed down to the river. This is a spot where a ferry, looking much less than seaworthy, picks people up to take them across to the other side.
Hudson found this little boy who enjoyed playing with this strange looking ball.
Hudson finds friends no matter where he is.
We did a little punting....
and a little throwing...
and of course a little jumping over make believe defenders.
We were also happy to see some family. Here are a few pics from the day we just spent having fun and seeing some sights.....and riding go-carts.
A lot of her pretty yellow scales have been scraped off, and she is very banged up. Her eye was scraped up on the side of the bridge. She survived the night and is swimming around today as normal....WHEW....for now, we are all good! 
