October Fields: Doc Bill’s.....

I traveled with my granddad and grandma to visit his good ole Cousin Oma in deep East Texas.  She lived about 5 miles east of Bullard (literally a wide spot in the road).    Granddad stopped at a "gas station/post office/grocery/hardware/dry-goods/feed-store/doctor's clinic" cabin in Bullard to get directions to the old family homestead and farm.  "Let me get Pops," answered the little barefoot, freckled face lad as he ran out the back screen door.

"How ya doin', Sir?" greeted a short white haired, bearded pleasant gentleman, "Ya'll must be lost.  'Cause ever-body else knows their way 'round here!"

 "No, we're here on purpose!" Granddad answered as he leisurely reached out to shake hands.  "We're looking for the old Roper homestead.  It's been a long time since we've been back here.  Brought my little granddaughter to show her where I grew up.  Things have changed a bit from the way I remembered it."

 "You related to Ole Roy?  You know he's dead...been dead about 15 years...mule kick him in the head...really liked him...Roy, that is.....he was ornery from the start.....the mule, not Ole Roy.... he was as gentle as a new born kitten, Roy, not Bill...."
 "My granddaughter, here, needs the restroom," politely interrupted my granddad.
"His boy and mine grew up together....great family!  Oma finished raising those 6 boys and making that farm pay....mighty hard if Ole Roy would have been to help.  She had those boys up and going at first light ever' day sept Sunday.  Then she had 'um dressed in meetin' clothes, in Ole Roy's buckboard on their way to meetin'.  Plus Oma had a fresh lemon pie takin' to the preacher ever week....her contribution, ya' know!"

"Excuse me, could you point us the direction?"  Granddad interrupted, again.
Doc Bill jerked his shoulders up in embarrassment, placed his hand across his mouth, chuckled a little, “Oops, so sorry, Sir.  Sometime I ramble and forget to take a breath.”  Quickly made his way to the front door; pointed down the road, “Take a right at that dirt road.  ‘Bout a mile take a left….”
A little louder Granddad announced, “Bathroom!  My granddaughter needs the bathroom!  Could she use one here?”
Doc Bill trotted through the store to the back door, pointed to an outhouse down a stone path, “Two-holer in the little yellow building!”

I bit my lip, took a deep breath, looked up at Granddad as to say, “Way down that path…..by myself….alone?”

Granddad gently patted me on the head, held open the screen-door, winked our special signal, said, “Right here!”  Turned to Doc Bill and said, “I’ll take those directions to Roy’s place, now, if you will, please…and could we get three cold Cokes?  I’ve got trade bottles in the car.”

“Buster!!  Get these folks three cold bottles out of the ‘fridge, please.  He’ll be back in 30 seconds…guarantee!  He gets the cold ones out of the wife’s house…never put a fridge in here. (with a twinkle) …gives me an excuse to get a little sugar from my sweetie!  …..That’ll be 15 cents, Sir.  And no charge for the directions and history lesson!” Doc said with deep chuckle and a great big grin.


(…continued down the road..)

We MUST take the time to tell the children.....

We (parents, grandparents, son, daughters, aunts and uncles) must take the time to tell the children about the men, women, mommies, and daddies who paid for our freedom.  Freedom paid with time away from their families. Paid for with their lives.  Paid with injuries that changed lives into struggles with endless pain.  Go ahead....tell our nation's youth that these gallant people knew that there was a great possibility that they would not return home to their families in the same condition they left...or not even come home at all!  Not coming home would not be the worst thing in these lives....but possibly the worst thing for their loved ones would be America, if no one came to the war.  

 

I will be the first to admit that my heart languished as each of my two brothers and a grandson signed up with Air National Guard; plus one grandson and a great nephew signed up for the Navy.   Even though none of them have had to leave this treasured land, they were proud to step to the front.  My chest swelled with pride for their courage and bravery.....as all families have done all the way back to when 12-year-old Little David (armed only with five smooth stones to fit a sling-shot) walked to battle a 9-ft. Philistine named Goliath dressed in full battle armor.

There's not a dad (of any family I know) that would not capture the full attention of their children (of any age) while they tell of their own experiences; of foreign wars; of this land's civil wars; or of amazing battles like found in God's word (the Bible).  My grandfather, brothers, and uncles captured our attention as families crowded around the telephone with breaths held in anticipation for a story true life incidents.  Letters were passed around until tattered and we lived through their details of battles.  Then, when they came home, we gathered around the supper table hanging on every word of every episode.

 

We never miss a chance to shake the hand of a veteran; or acknowledge our troops; thank our policemen and introduce our children to them.  We wave "Old Glory" at all the parades.  I pray that our children and grandchildren can KNOW the real America.  Know America as told by the real Americans and those who walked the paths of our freedom.  Our children need to hear how freedom takes the contribution of every soldier (whether behind a desk, on foot, on horseback, on board ship, in a plane or helicopter.)  Each soldier doing his particular job or holding his position till death......and how important they are.  And, please.... we must take the time to tell the children about the God who continues to Bless America!

A Change of Scenery...........

Irwin & I prayed for God's guidance over a leisure outing on a gorgeous October day, last Fall.  I just wanted to completely forget about this week's stress & housework.  In the forefront of my mind, I really thought that I should stay and finish my work  instead of frolicking about the countryside.  Ha!  Finish!  Housework is never finished!  Irwin was right, though, we just wanted to get away and have a change of scenery.

We drove to First Monday in Weatherford… except this wasn’t first Monday… this was second Monday and we had missed First Monday.  However, we did see an old peddler’s place which looked really interesting.  First thing near the front gate of a peddler’s yard was an antique galvanized washtub. Then up on the wooden porch was a wringer washer….electric!  I was so quickly reminded of how hard wash-day was for our parents (when we were kids in the country – 1940’s).  Mom’s wringer washer was flanked by three galvanized #3 washtubs; each was a rinse cycle.  It took three rinsings to get the soap out of the clothes.  And none of today’s aisles and aisles of detergents….”Spring Scented”, “Ocean Breeze”, “Sunshine Bright”, “Lavender Blossom” store-bought HP low sudsing soap.  I remember helping Mom and Grandma make soap.  Mom & Grandma’s home-made soap was one flavor, boil in a big black cast-iron kettle over an open wood-burning fire lie soap.  When she finished the last load of wash, Mom would pour bluing in the final rinse tub and run the white clothes back through the rinse tubs again.  And, of ‘course, she would have to put the clothes through the ringer again to squeeze out the water.   I came close to a “wringer manicure” by allowing my fingers to kiss the roller….I sure everyone did this once!

This visit to the past reminded me of when I was about 4-years-old, standing out in the sun anticipating the moment Mom would pick up the wet bed sheets out of the laundry basket and lift them to the clothesline.  My youngest brother, Jon, just 15 months younger than myself, standing in my shadow, his bare feet just dancing in place in great anticipation; his small fingers pressing along on to the back hem of the blouse I was wearing; then gently tapping me on the shoulder urging me in a rushed whisper, “Ask her, Anne.  Ask Momma if it’s O.K. if we make a tent while the sheets are drying.  Go ahead and ask her!”  I hesitated deeply and then pushed the words out so quickly, “Can Jon and I, please, play with the sheets while they dry, Momma?”

As anxious as we were to play, Momma way ready to keep us out of her way for a little while, “Don’t touch them dirty….just don’t even touch them at all!  Momma reached up and tugged both sheets across two clotheslines and secured them with a wooden clothespin.  We drug a couple of vegetable crates into the shade and began building our fort.  (Jon called it a fort and I went along with his insistence….but in my heart we were building a four-bedroom play house!)

The weather doesn’t play as big a part in the efficiency of today’s laundry as in 1940’s and before.  When Grandma had a week of rainy days, the wash was done however and then the wet clothes were draped over chair backs, over the tops of the doors, and across the head and foot rails of the beds.  I remember the excitement of the big new at church when Mr. Coker put in a wash-a-teria with five wringer washers and one family size gas dryer.  It cost 10-cents per load; 5-cents for bluing; and 20-cents for a load of dryer (which Mr. Coker had to operate because none of the little ol’ housewives could operate that big electrical machine.

 God's reminder..."Continue to think about the things that are good and worthy of praise.  Think about the things that are true and honorable and right and pure and beautiful and respected." (Phil 4:8)

When Irwin and I got home from our big outing, I started my laundry in my 2006 Deluxe High-Efficiency Front-loading washer (& dryer).  Boy!  Are they fast and quiet....no work...no bending or stooping…no sweat….just put the dirty clothes and “Lavender Bloom” detergent in and the washer does all the work.  Thank you, God, for the little trips back in time;  for letting me experience such a special time; and for letting me see You in so many ways, today!  I wonder what will be in our grandchildren’s lives that will cause them to look back at 2011 and say, “Wow!  What a great memory of the good old days!

"Ducks, Heads up! Ducks, Heads down!"......

Clark thought that he was directing the ducks in synchronized swimming.  As he moved his arms, the ducks would pop their heads up and then dive down under the water (feeding on his cereal)!  This went on and on as long as Clark shared his Cheerios!

Tractor Demonstrator.......

Maybe our 3-year-old grandson, Clark, should be a tractor demonstrator when he grows up.
I'm sure he would definitely be happy to show Everyone, EVERY button, on EVERY tractor.....because he had already pushed them all while we were waiting on Irwin to shop for a couple of tools at the home improvement store.  Then, our world turned upside down when a customer came along and asked Clark if he (Clark) would take him for a ride on the tractor.

Oh!  Dear, me!  He should not have done that.  Until then, Clark was perfectly happy climbing!  He did not have a clue that the tractors had a motor...... or that they even moved.

Now, "Mr. Butt-in-ski Customer" is at home, kicked back in his easy-chair, with a Big orange drink, punching remote buttons, watching the Brickyard 400 race....and this poor old grandmother is trying to distract a 3-year-old from "Starting His (tractor) Engines!"

Monster from the Deep......

I've been doing some daily swim therapy, for my back, at my nearby brother Bill's pool.  I have set my goal at 20 full laps a day....hopefully I will exercise off a few inches and even more pounds (nice).  Of  course, we have our three-year-old, Clark.  We decided that this would be a great time to introduce him to the pool; teach respect for rules around the pool; begin to teach him to swim; exercise away from the computer; and hopefully wear him down enough to take a good nap.  Irwin is wonderful to offer to "occupy" Clark while I do my laps.

This "occupancy" lasted about 5 minutes, and then, Clark wanted to tag along with GrandBan (that would be me) on my laps.  He wears his arm floaties for safety....his and mine!   As we swam, Clark kept up with me stroke by stroke (at a much reduced pace).  I gave him instructions much like the "pacer" deep in the galley of the Viking ships.  I figured that I would make it strict enough that he would be learning but would give up after a little while and go back to play with Granddaddy.  After about 8 FULL laps, Clark was picking up the pace and laughing most of the time.  He was even mimicking my chant, "Reach!  And pull!  And reach!  And, pull!  Kick!  Kick!  Kick!  Kick!  Kick!"

In my brother's pool, is a mechanical pool sweeper named Oscar.  My brother suggested that we could take Oscar out of the pool while we swam, even though it is not working while we are exercising.  Oscar keeps the edge, sides, and bottom of the pool spotless and Bill's diligence keeps the clarity of the water like crystal.....really a pleasure!  So, I just pulled the lifeless sweeper contraption, and it's 15-ft. hose, to the South edge of the water and we used the North side....never having any kind of a clash.  However, Monday, we did go to do our therapy a little earlier in the morning before it got too hot.  After about 15 minutes in the water, I thought I heard the compressor start.  So, I just kept one eye on the hose that floats along behind Oscar; one eye on my laps; and one eye on Clark.

As I approached the end of the pool to "touch and turn" for the next lap, I noticed a dark shadow between me and my pivot point.  Not wanting my feet to get tangled in the hose along with the describable fear of getting sucked up into the (6" x 14") sweeper, Oscar, I tried to reverse engines in "mid-stream."

Did I mention that I am, by NO stretch of the imagination, a proficient swimmer?  I learned to swim at the age of 6-years-old, when my grandfather pitched me out into the middle of the Brazos River.  I thrashed for it seemed like at least 15 minutes in the direction of the bank.  The commotion was similar to what happens when trollers throw fresh meat into a school of piranha (until my hysterically laughing audience of grandparents, parents, and siblings, sent my oldest brother to put my feet on the bottom of the 4-ft. deep water.)

From his peripheral vision, Irwin noticed my thrashing, coughing, and spitting.  He had to make a split-second decision to save me or Clark (who had just jumped to him from the bank of the pool.  He quickly secured Clark with his right arm, and reached in my direction with his left arm and gently but firmly, again, pushed my feet to the bottom of the pool, at only 5-ft. deep.

As I went about regaining semi-composure,  I breathlessly attempted to explain my fear of the monster.  Irwin confirmed that Oscar laid lifeless on the bottom of the pool, and the dark spot was the diving board casting a shadow in the water.

My hysterically laughing audience, this time, was my grandson who patted Irwin on the shoulder and said, "Granddaddy!  GrandBan was splashing funny!"

My First Posting!

Welcome! This is so very exciting! I have my very on blog page. I have had so many requests to put all my family writings in print or on the web. Well, here I am. I hope you will enjoy these blogs, as much as I enjoyed living them and writing down my memories of them.

Dianna, my eldest daughter, helped me to get my blog site up and running. She is my guru! Thanks sweetie for your help! (I'm sure I'll be calling on you for additional help...from time to time).

I am off to spend some time with my youngest, precious daughter Carrie, and my favorite youngest grandson, Clark! We are headed off to the outlet mall for some necessary shoe shopping.

I'll be posting more, tomorrow...after my second lesson with Dianna. I'm sure I'll be proficient in blogging by the week's end.

Evanne