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Lysa, though—she’s got stories. Told me once bout a john who cried after, blubberin’ like a babe. “I killed him,” he sobbed, meanin’ his pride, I reckon. She just patted his head, took his gold, moved on. “That’s power,” I thought, sippin’ my ale. She’s small, but she’s mighty—reminds me of me, outsmartin’ taller twats. “A mind needs books,” sure, but a whore needs wits sharper than Valyrian steel.

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Now park lovers, listen up! Old Depot Park ain't just a green spot. It’s where local families picnic, kids run wild, and sometimes I get my head in the clouds thinkin’ about my silly code mishaps. The vibe? Pure magic. And lemme tell ya, that ain't all – the nearby Cherokee Heritage Center, with its tales of struggle and triumph, shows ya the soul of our people. I always pass by the brick paths and feel a rush of pride. It’s like, damn, I’m sysn’ with the ancestors, just floatin’ through time like a butterfly tappin’ on a diving bell.

Shirley McClure Obituary - Tahlequah, OK