Western Photos & Sam Sixkiller

I’ve been so busy finishing the Sam Sixkiller book, publicizing the next book signing, and compiling photos for the completed manuscript I’ve neglected other areas of the job, namely updating sections of the website. Finding photographs for the Sixkiller book has been the most time consuming. Most of the pictures I need are at the University Oklahoma Historical Center. To give you an example of how difficult it is to locate the photos from the digital collection at the center, the directors there have published a book that’s all about how to find the picture you need from their archives. I feel like Grocho Marx’s character in A Day at the Races. When he arrives at the track to place a bet on a horse Chico stops him from doing so and tells him that in order to make an informed decision about which horse to bet on he needs to purchase a “breeder’s guide.” Groucho buys the book from Chico, but he can’t read it because it’s in code. He’s forced to buy another book to teach him to read the one he just purchased. The bit goes on and on and believe me – it’s ten times funnier than I’ve made it out to be! The point being, the average writer has to participate in the Marx Brother’s routine the University of Oklahoma has employed in order to gain access to the historical archives. And you can forget about calling because the intellects that work there make you feel like a moron for not knowing how to find your way through the collection. I already feel like a moron most of the time. I don’t need any help on that front. Why is it that going somewhere, buying something, calling someone, doing historical research – just about any transaction you can name is as nerve-racking as a Bosnian grocery run? With few exceptions, it seems everyone with a job along the great service highway is an uninterested sociopath with the interpersonal skills of a wolverine? I can’t seem to go through the simplest procedures without a major hassle. For example, (as though I need to list another one after the U of O experience) I recently subscribed to a magazine, and after paying for it they sent me another bill. So I called them to rectify the situation, and they assured me they’d correct the problem. I then started receiving two copies of the magazine each week, one addressed to “Chris Enss” and the other addressed to “Christopher Enss.” Now, I want to know two things: One, how can they not know they’re sending two magazines to the same address, and two, how did they find out about my cross-dressing? It’s not like I don’t sympathize. I’ve been in the vast service gulag. After I got out of college, one of my first jobs was working at a radio station in Tucson. Part of my duties was to clean the bathrooms at night. Got that? I didn’t even rate cleaning the toilets during the day. My bosses actually thought to themselves, “Yeah, Enss is good. She’s real good. She’s just not ready for The Show yet.” I know all jobs can be unrewarding, but I’d like to go on vacation for a week, and call the paper boy, and ask him to suspend delivery during that time and not come back to nine newspapers sitting outside my doorstep, screaming to every lowlife in the area, “Yoo-Hoo! Over here! Nobody home!” Maybe the folks that run and work at major corporations, radio stations, historical centers need a refresher course in how to act in a way that would increase business. Forget the “moment of silence” everyone is always screaming for in the morning. Let’s shoot for a moment of science! Okay. I’ve put off calling the University of Oklahoma again long enough….