The backroads we grew up

FINK RANCH

The definition of the American Dream, certainly throughout my 30 years smack in the middle of it, has felt as effervescent as it has heavy in my hands. There was something about the 90’s that, at least in my tiny town Oklahoma, hadn't fully moved away from what my grandparents saw as their American fairytale. Papaw came from a hard-working set of parents who, despite having every member of the family employed in cotton fields by the age of 4, weren’t able to keep shoes on their kids.

Great Grandma Allie told a story about trying to hide her bare feet by digging her toes into the field dirt when Judd came over to see if she’d want to leave with him at lunch and get married. Their kids, including my grandpa, were able to harness the promises that this country of ours was then able to fulfill in the mid-to-late 20th century of a comfortable life. They had shoes with soles on the bottom, a house they owned, and kids they could put through college.

Something about that idea had such staying power that I was raised assuming that ability to rise through the financial ranks was equally available to me. And somewhere along the way a “you can do anything, kid” was blended in with a thick base of the onset of full-time working mothers of the 80s and beyond. That Cuisinart blender cocktail somehow spit out a reality that has many people my age doing more, hustling harder, and still struggling to afford rent. Owning a home is statistically a milestone people are reaching at 49, not 29. Young people are carrying multiple jobs only to realize they still can’t quite reach the steps that felt like, if you were willing to work hard and follow the instructions, were a certainty for past generations.

The layers to this issue can’t be summarized in this article. Not if I want you all to stick with me here. I will, instead, focus on what I think one of the solutions just might be. Enter The Fink Ranch.

Meeting with Gabi and Mark Fink at their 90s-built farmhouse has me daydreaming. A lot about this family does, but we’ll get there later.

Mark was raised with his brother Matt in this house by his dad, Mike, and mom, Malinda. The property is stunning, rolling from the entrance across the remaining 500 sprawling acres. Following the white fence-lined driveway toward the house, you see a valley full of longhorn cattle, a roping arena to the right, and a host of trees changing to meet our late-onset Autumn. There’s a pond tucked up next to the house, in perfect view from their wraparound porch.

We’re greeted by two Labs, one fatter than the next, and they usher us in the door. For the interview, we’re guided, by hosts and dogs, and now a cat, and… there’s another dog, to a room past their kitchen. They’ve turned Mark’s childhood bedroom into a cocktail lounge that, brilliantly, has an attached hunting closet. Wives of hunters know, the equipment is bulky, plentiful, and isn’t allowed to smell like ANYTHING, okay?

The middle school sweethearts didn’t develop into something that resembled a relationship until Gabi’s first year of college and Mark’s senior year in high school. Gabi and a girlfriend were riding around town one night when they saw Mark and a friend at a gas station. They pulled over, said “Hey” and… “I think your hand’s been in my back pocket ever since,” Mark says matter-of-factly.

The room we’re sitting in, a bedroom-turned-entertainment space, mirrors not only the other properties on the ranch but the evolution of the Fink family as well. Mark and Gabi purchased this house when his parents were ready to move into their new build, but the property’s history has been evolving for nearly thirty years.

In the late 1990s, Mike, Malinda, Papa Gene and Grammy decided to move out of El Reno. “They got in the car and drove west until they could afford land.” Each couple purchased 80 acres and thus began their building of a homestead. Papa was a carpenter his whole life and took on the role of designing both homes. “My first memories I have were right here. I don't remember living anywhere else. I loved living out here.” Mark remembers.

“We had horses, four-wheelers, everything you could dream of. And just having Grammy, I would get off the bus every day, go straight down to Grammy’s house, because there's was a quarter mile away, and she would cook you anything you could think of, help you with all your homework, and then drive you home, drop you off. It was so nice to have all that.”

Papa Gene and Grammy watch from the cab of their silver Ford as everyone falls into place. Malinda, Mark’s mom, founder and president of Sweethearts of the Rodeo for 25 yeras, is dressed in a buckskin jacket, rhinestone belt, and a cowboy hat. She’s on a horse before I make it to the pen. Mike is near the chute, orchestrating what needs to happen next and keeping Michael and I informed about what’s going on around us. Mark is guiding each steer down the pen to the one exit available, with the help of a few friends and experienced hands. One of which is his niece, Brylie. She’s 10 years old and looks like a natural on Sweetie, a pretty Sorrel horse, with her Sweetheart of the Rodeo buckle shining as she rides.

Brylie and her brother Beckham mark the fourth generation of Finks and they both look like they really were born for this. Brylee’s getting the hang of cutting as they work to guide the herd into the pen. “Don’t let him by ya!” Malinda guides. 3 year-old Beckham is keeping busy, playing cowboy on top of the roping dummy, riding the four-wheeler, calling “Hey cow! Hey!” and climbing fences until he falls into a sticker patch and absolutely loses it in that special way only three-year-olds can.

"Something about his red face and little boots kicking the dirt reminds me of the story Mark told us about Papa Gene “losing his Christian at least three times that day” working cattle and I suddenly see more of a resemblance."

“We’re 27 minutes from El Reno, 15 minutes or so from Hinton. It's like, you don't have a cup of sugar, or you're low on food, you call grandma. You need something, you just hop on the four-wheeler, putt over and you grab it.”

Gabi adds, “I feel like always knowing that you need to offer up your help when you can because you're gonna need it really bad in return, at some point, like Papa Gene will drive by and see all of our cows on the road, and he'll do what he can to get most of them back in and then call us. And it's like he didn't have to do that.”

“Don't say no, because you're going to need it the very next time.”

I can’t help but ask about boundaries, a word Millennials seem to be coming to grips with better all the time and one it seems like Gen Z knows like the back of their hands. Do you have to set them? Do Grammy and Papa Gene have boundaries or is that generation more wide-open? I know my own experience and play the parts out in my head like a Green Acres-style sitcom.

They note that the early days of the farm were when natural lines formed, when Mark was little and his dad and grandpa were establishing roles as the farm was being built out.

“So the boundaries aren't necessarily needed as prominently on our side as they had to instill those early on, or it's like they almost avoided them, and then, whenever it came to time, it's like, okay, you can't stop by every Saturday. We can't be doing that.”

For Gabi, adjusting to the family in their early marriage had a few things to get used to. “Everybody got in this habit of, see those three big windows in there? They'll come on the balcony if you don't immediately answer the front door, which we have to go downstairs to get to the front door…like it's gonna take me a second, and they'll look through the windows. Pa will turn around, shake his butt, ‘Y’all better not be naked in there!’” She laughs.

“My Dad’s a riot.” Mark chimes in.

They seem genuinely unbothered and Gabi adds that they have requested that they start calling first. When Grammy remembered to call before dropping cookies off the other night, it confirmed that’s being heard and respected. “You can’t be mad.”

I’m taken by the reciprocal nature of this family. They joke, poke fun, and seem to always be there for each other, letting any excess slide right off their Carhart-clad backs. In a world that feels more individualistic than ever, it feels truly romantic. Young people today are expected to go to school for a very general education and let's be honest, in many cases, schooling isn’t particularly effective for the life that hits after. Then, hey kid, pick a major or a career path! You’re 18, expected to move out of your parent’s home for risk of being considered a failure to launch, and thrown into this next step with little experience in any one concentrated skill.

Compare that to the lifestyle of many families throughout history and it’s a stark contrast. There was a time when learning your family’s trade was part of your raising. You’d be skilled by the time you were ready to start a family of your own. And often, just like the Fink’s, your work would be directly contributing to the growth of your entire family’s legacy, often having a home or land to move on to, instead of an overpriced apartment that takes up 40% of your yearly income while trying to crawl out of school debt.

Now, there are a lot of good things that come with more separation in many cases. Not every family’s dynamic is healthy enough to keep four generations happy, healthy, and loving each other on the same plot of land. I’d reckon many generational curses have been broken by the ability to move away and start something new. But for some, when it works out, it’s beautiful. And what the Fink family has going feels like a good-humored, hard-working daydream.

Part of what seems to be working so well is the flexibility and innovation that Gabi and Mark bring to the table. They follow through on the structure established by their elders, Mark leads the crop business, and they show up to help work cattle every Saturday. But they’re adding something new to the farm as well.

“We want to share this space with people,” Gabi says.

And that’s exactly what they’re doing with their newest venture, establishing Fink Ranch as a boutique photography venue. They’ve only recently opened their bookings and are seeing success already. With seemingly endless acres, that pretty pond, and a rolling valley flanked by a sea of trees, no photo will struggle to be unique. They’ve also turned the downstairs of this farmhouse into a studio space, crafting something that covers all bases for photographers and production teams.

“We want to offer a luxury, boutique-style [space] where you can come out here and relax a little bit. You're going to be out here a while. If you need to shower, you have a shower. We have 80 acres right here. You can bring your own horses. If you don't have one, I can help you. So we want to offer a better way to photograph, but also we don't want people to dread it. Come out here, take your photos, but bring a six-pack and some food, and hang out afterwards.”