And he carried a big stick

The other day I was putting the finishing touches on the minutes for the weekly meeting of the non-profit board I belong to, when I was introduced to a stranger. He had come into my small town's Chamber of Commerce office (where we hold our meetings) to gather some information on our city as a possible new homesite for himself.

This fella was a doctor and not from these parts, so the Chamber President thought I would be a good conduit for him to get to know the town and it's many proclivities, seeing as how I'm a relatively recent transplant myself.

I asked him when he arrived, and he said he pulled into town the same day as the mega-lighting storm that hit our area a few days ago. I recalled this storm because it took out our power for a good 20-minutes and I was right in the middle of editing some spots for a local Ranch and Home store, and was patting myself on the back for having recently saved my work.

He's young, decent looking, and me being a member of the male gender, I quickly sized him up using the male-specific "can I kick his butt or could he kick mine" method.

Women don't do this do they? I'm sure they have a more complicated method of comparing themselves to other women they've just met. I think OURS is easier.

Anyhow, the most odd thing about this out-of-towner M.D. (he didn't say he wasn't an M.D. , so I'm just assuming his doctor title isn't one of those of purely research and scholarly pursuits, but I didn't delve too deeply), is this big stick he carries around with him. Did I say big...I meant to say REALLY BIG. I only mention it because it seems to be more than a stick, but an extension of himself...if that makes any sense at all.

Our conversation carried forth to family and careers and he perked up a bit when I told him my wife was an Oklahoma native, had traveled extensively throughout the state and worked for an agency of the State that dealt with tourism, parks and recreation, etc. He then surprised me with his knowledge of something called, the Heavener Runestone in a state park near the Oklahoma / Arkansas border that I had heard about from my sister-in-law who is from that part of the state.

At this point a fellow town's lady who was visiting in the Chamber office chimed into our conversation by asking the young Doctor if he had picked a "chruch home," yet -- a common question asked here in my small town to new arrivals, to which he replied that he wasn't sure where he would be living yet and then mentioned something about "god" and "house of Asgard (sp?)."

She nodded and said, "oh, that church must be in the city somewhere," and left it at that.

Later that night, I was telling my wife about the new visitor to our small town and she did what I fear has become a standard routine when meeting someone new - we Googled him.

And this page was at the top of the list...


Gotcha! -- but I do think it's interesting that the Son of Odin's new digs are here in my new home state. Who knows, maybe Sue Storm (Fantastic Four's Invisible Woman) visited and we didn't even know it.