It’s that time of year when friends and acquaintances, making desultory small talk, ask, “Where are you spending the holidays?” The reaction I’m consistently getting to my answer, “Oklahoma,” seems a bit . . . outsized. Invariably the other person’s eyes bug out and he exclaims, “Oklahoma?!” as if the cognitive dissonance is too much to bear. Why would someone who is from Pennsylvania/Florida/Illinois/Massachusetts go over-the-river-and-through-the-woods to non-adjacent Oklahoma? Then I have to explain my very tenuous and recent connection to Oklahoma; my brother was just transferred there for work, and as his wife is far along in her pregnancy we thought it would be nice to visit them. So, there are no real Oklahoma roots in my family. Until my brother moved there, I’ll venture that no one in my extended family ever gave Oklahoma a second thought.

But I’ve been to Oklahoma. A few years ago I was visiting just north of Dallas and drove into the city to meet an old friend. I drove north instead of south and soon was seeing signs for the Oklahoma border. I may or may not actually have passed over the state line. I really don’t remember.

It will be interesting to see a part of the country I don’t normally get to visit, but let’s face it–we’re taking the kids with us, so one destination is the same as the next when you’re dragging two ankle-biters onto your connecting flight. Oklahoma, Arizona, what does it matter?