Pink Lemonade, Shiny Cars, and a Slice of Heaven
If you had told me last week that I’d be sipping pink lemonade sold by future Shark Tank stars, fangirling over quilts, and eating the best pecan pie of my life (apologies to the Midwest hometown bakery scene), I would have asked if you were feeling alright.
This past weekend, I had the honor—and the pure joy—of covering Odessa’s Spring Fling celebrations. And let me tell you: for a small town over a thousand miles from where I grew up, Odessa sure knows how to make a wandering Midwesterner feel right at home.
I rolled into town Saturday morning just as the annual car show was hitting its full, revved-up stride. Picture it: dozens of gleaming cars and trucks lined up under a flawless blue sky, with just enough breeze to keep your pink lemonade refreshingly cool. Speaking of lemonade—those kids are going places—but more on them later.
First order of business: reconnecting with my dear friend, Queen Alyx Scheller. Yes, she really is the queen—Spring Fling royalty, tiara and all. (Honestly, if this were the Renaissance, being her friend would be a serious upgrade in status. Maybe I need to cool it with the historical novels.)
Alyx, looking radiant and poised, handed out awards for the car show—a show that drew a record 40 cars, according to the tireless Sandi Smith (who, by the way, deserves a medal for the number of steps she must have clocked that day). One of the award trophies looked like an old-school gas station, straight out of a 1960s movie. Another? I mistakenly called it a microscope, only to be gently corrected—it was, of course, a spark plug. (Born in 2002, people. I’m doing my best.)
Post-car show, I wandered downtown through the yard sales (where I showed alarming restraint), then found myself at the high school gym for the quilt show. And let me tell you—this wasn’t just a quilt show. It was a kaleidoscopic masterpiece of color, talent, and creativity.
Among the many incredible works, one quilt stole my heart: a massive tribute to classic rock bands of the '70s and '80s. It practically screamed "rock on" in a sea of delicate florals and pastoral patterns. If a quilt could headbang, this one would.
After learning a thing or two about mariner’s compass patterns, I wandered into the Quilter’s Café—and into the heavenly aroma of homemade pies. That’s where I met Charlene Kagele, the "Pie Lady" I'd heard whispers about. She had already sold out of her strawberry rhubarb by the time I got there, but luckily, her pecan pie was still up for grabs.
Now, I grew up in Michigan, surrounded by some serious pie aficionados. But Charlene’s pecan pie? Next level. Rich, buttery, perfectly baked—it transported me straight back to my childhood, despite being over a thousand miles from home.
High on sugar and small-town charm, I resumed my yard sale adventures, when I stumbled upon Jackson, Addison, and their friend Lilly—three local kids running the most entrepreneurial lemonade stand I’ve ever seen. Selling eight gallons of pink lemonade during the town-wide sale? That's Shark Tank material right there.
Even though lemonade isn’t usually my drink of choice, I caved—and I’m glad I did. It was perfectly chilled, sweet but not overpowering, and served with the kind of business savvy that tells me these kids are going places.
The day wrapped up at the adult dance at the fire station, where the energy was as warm and welcoming as the shredded beef sandwiches and cold beers being passed around. The women took the dance floor by storm while the men leaned back, full bellies and full hearts, watching and cheering them on.
Badlandz rocked out with classics from the ‘70s and ‘80s-and thanks to my classic rock upbringing (shoutout to my wild-child mom and hair-band-loving dad), I knew every word. Honestly, it felt like the best kind of time warp.
As I looked around at the laughter, the dancing, the pie, the lemonade, the shiny cars, and the open hearts, it hit me: This town. This Odessa-isn’t just a place on a map. It's a feeling. It's a reminder that there are still corners of the world where strangers are treated like family, where a slice of homemade pie can heal a homesick heart, and where community isn’t just a word — it’s a way of life.
In every handshake, every smile, every kid stirring lemonade with a plastic spoon, Odessa showed me what true hospitality looks like.
Thank you, Odessa, for welcoming me so warmly, for making me feel less like a visitor and more like one of your own. I didn’t just leave with a full belly and a camera roll full of memories — I left with a little piece of my heart stitched into the fabric of your beautiful town.
