Rocklahoma, Born & Raised and Watching Your Kids Grow Up
This year celebrated the 20th anniversary of Rocklahoma.
If you’re new to Tulsa, Rocklahoma is a three-day music festival held in Pryor, Oklahoma. But it didn’t start that way.
The early years celebrated the music and lifestyle of the ’80s hair-metal scene and featured many bands that hadn’t played together in 20-plus years.
Those first few Rocklahomas were held in mid-July. In Oklahoma. Outside.
Yeah. Let that sink in.
It was extremely hot and dry, turning the campgrounds—and pretty much everything else—into a giant dust bowl. And back then Rocklahoma wasn’t just three days.
It was FIVE nights!
I look back now and wonder how we ever made it through. But not only did we survive, we couldn’t wait to do it again the next year.
And the next year.
Eventually organizers moved Rocklahoma to Memorial Day weekend, hoping Mother Nature would cut us a little slack.
She did, sort of.
It was cooler and not nearly as dry. Unfortunately, Oklahoma weather apparently said, “Oh, you don’t like heat and dust? Fine. Here’s some torrential rain, extreme winds and maybe a tornado!”
Then came the pandemic. Rocklahoma was canceled that year, and when it returned, organizers moved the festival to Labor Day weekend, fearing back to school and the return of college football might affect attendance. It hasn’t.
The weather has generally been much nicer.
Except this year.
As anyone who survived Oklahoma’s relentless heat this summer knows, this year’s Rocklahoma felt to me almost as hot as those crazy early July festivals.
Almost.
Of course, I’m also 20 years older now.
And apparently my warranty has expired.
Rocklahoma has also been a huge part of my radio career. For roughly the first 15 years of the festival, I was there broadcasting live with 97.5 KMOD.
And I didn’t just show up for a couple of hours, do a radio remote and head back to Tulsa, I lived there, in the campgrounds.
After enough years broadcasting from the festival, interviewing bands, partying in the campgrounds and meeting people who came back year after year, I eventually earned a nickname:
The Unofficial Mayor of Rocklahoma.
There was never an election. No campaign. No recount. And unfortunately, the position came with absolutely no salary or health benefits.
Rocklahoma has always been an all-ages festival, although even organizers have suggested over the years that Mom and Dad might want to leave the kids at home and enjoy a weekend for themselves.
Even though I had kids when Rocklahoma started, I never felt comfortable bringing them with me.
While it may have looked like Lynn Hernandez was out there living the rock-and-roll lifestyle, I was working. There are a lot of responsibilities involved with doing a live radio broadcast from a huge music festival.
Trying to do all that while keeping track of a couple of toddlers?
No thanks.
So for many years, Rocklahoma was Dad’s weekend.
But kids grow up.
Atticus is 16 now, so this year I finally asked him if he wanted to go to Rocklahoma with me.
Nope.
Apparently being the son of the Unofficial Mayor does not automatically make you a citizen.
But there was another festival he definitely wanted to attend.
Born & Raised Festival is basically Rocklahoma’s country cousin, held on the same campgrounds in Pryor by the same folks that started Rocklahoma.
There was a cool full-circle moment when Atticus got to meet Mark Nuessle, one of the original founders of Rocklahoma.
Think about that.
I spent all those years broadcasting from Rocklahoma, and nearly 20 years later I’m standing on those same grounds with my 16-year-old son as he meets one of the guys who helped start the whole thing.
But there was somebody else Atticus really wanted to meet.
Gavin Adcock.
Atticus is a huge fan, so Dad went to work trying to make a meet-and-greet happen.
I tried… And tried.
After Gavin’s show, we hung around his tour bus hoping he might come out.
He didn’t.
But one of his guitar players, Jon Michael McKinnon, did.
And that turned into one of my favorite moments of the weekend.
He was incredibly cool to Atticus. They talked about guitar, and Atticus told him he’d taken lessons before but had gotten away from playing.
McKinnon encouraged him to pick the guitar back up, give lessons another shot and offered him some beautifully simple advice:
Take the lesson book one page at a time.
I loved that.
We went there hoping Atticus might meet one of his favorite singers. Instead, he met a working musician who took a few minutes to encourage a 16-year-old kid to start playing guitar again.
And speaking of my 16-year-old growing up, there’s one more milestone from this year’s festival season.
While I was at Rocklahoma, Atticus stayed home by himself.
For the weekend.
I admit there was a little part of Dad wondering what I’d find when I got home.
But there was no keg party.
No cops.
And most importantly…
THE HOUSE DIDN’T BURN DOWN!
Whew.
Twenty years ago I was broadcasting live from Rocklahoma, covered in dust, surrounded by hair bands and somehow surviving five nights of rock and roll.
Today I’m watching my son become more independent, taking him to festivals and watching him discover music on his own terms.
Maybe he’ll even pick up that guitar again.
One page at a time.
Funny how much can change in 20 years.
And how quickly it happens.
American Red Cross
Also, thank you to Aranda and everyone at the American Red Cross. I decided to donate platelets. I’ve donated blood many times, but platelets take 2-3 hours. I’ve gotten lightheaded before, so I was very nervous, but determined. They were all great and, turns out, huge radio fans of mine, so shoutout to them!!
I was hoping Atticus would donate with me because at 16 he can, but 2-3 hours for a 16 to be denied their office is, well, you know. I want to teach him the importance of donating blood throughout his life. When my brother and mother were battling cancer I’m sure they relied on lots of donated blood, plasma, and platelets the last years of their lives.
Hopefully next time.
