It's dark outside. I'm walking around the house. The windows overlook the empty land. Far away, over the 100 acres land in Oklahoma, I can barely see the dog kennels. I try to imagine how this place would look like if the greyhound racing business would still be legal in the United States. I sat down. In front of me, there is an old photograph and a death announcement sitting on the table.
The first time I visited Betty, John and the whole family in Oklahoma was back in 2014. It wasn't until my third visit in 2020 that their story became relevant to me. In the 70's the family immigrated from Scotland to the United States, in search of a better life. How was it to build a life in a rural area in the Midwest with a population less than 600 people? What's going to happen with the land when John and Betty pass away? Most of the family it's still around. Is obvious that the presence of Betty and John is still relevant to the whole family. The complexity of their lives is evident, and the vulnerability between them makes them stronger. As I reflect on what it means to grow old on a piece of land, I observe the beauty of the paste of slow living.