Cousin Oma’s large two-story white East Texas house was as cheerful as a postcard. A full covered and raised porch went all the way around the house. The windows were open and white lace curtains flagged in the gentle breeze. There were at least 20 (I looked like a hundred) rose bushes right out in the playing part of the yard and they were all in full bloom….a rainbow of colors. There wasn’t any grass, just sand with fresh rake marks making neat designs all through the sand. Then, there was the clean white picket fence that skirted the edge of the yard, with a gate that opened onto a flagstone walkway that led right through the rose garden up to the steps to the porch. There was a roof covered water-well between the house and the root cellar. The well was taller than the cedar tree that stood next to it. A narrow wooden trough ran from the bucket attached to the well, high over the rose garden, the picket fence, the dirt road and down to the barn; bringing fresh cool water to the livestock. The cellar was about 6-feet underground with wall to wall seedlings, cuttings, sprouts and plants for planting next Spring. The Wedding photo of Granddad & Grandmaseedlings consisted of tomatoes, bell peppers, onions,
cucumbers, cantaloupe, watermelon, pansies, daisies, and 6 three-ft. tall Ponderosa lemon trees. The cellar was covered with a couple of old glass paneled doors to allow in light for the plants but protected them from the freezing weather in the winter. The doors were propped up and open for ventilation during these first cool days of October.
Before Granddad, Grandma and I could unfold our legs to get out of the car, Cousin Oma had pushed her way through the screened front-door and was pulling the strings of her apron…tucking it under the pillow-cushion in the wicker rocker on the porch. “Cuzin’ Perry and Cuzin’ Ethel, you are a sight for these sore eyes.” She grabbed and hugged each one of us, not letting go of one before adding the next.
A doll house with adult-size furniture welcomed us into Cousin Oma’s large, open parlor. There was an array of hand crocheted doilies delicately placed about the furnishings with a lamp on every table. The smell of bread baking filled the room. “Sit down and get comfortable. I’m going to fetch some lemonade. Then we can do some catchin’ up on the past eight years.” Cousin Oma vanished through the doorway into the kitchen.
“Remember, Anne, if it’s not yours don’t touch it!” came a warning just above a whisper from Granddad, as I tip-toed about the room making my first general assessment of this new world. A fascinating elaborate pump organ reaching almost to the 10-ft. ceiling, sat against the wall near the natural stone fireplace. In the absence of city bustling was complete silence interrupted by the ticking of the ornate old family mantle clock seated in its rightful place. …then came the sound of tinkling of ice bumping against the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade. I made my way to a footstool at the front of the chair where Granddad had definitely “made himself comfortable.”
As Cousin Oma pulled up a dining-chair between Granddad and Grandma, the conversation began with the ‘almost scriptural’ run-through of the names of all the kinfolks and how they were doing. It was amazing to me that all three adults could talk at the same time and still glean a healthy knowledge a generation of comings and goings….a gift gained from years of practice! There was a bitter-sweet few moments when remembering those who had passed on. Then the exchange moved on into a more lighthearted conversation reliving the memories of antics and some mischievous adventures of kids growing up in the country.
“Yo thar, Cusin Oma!” Blurted in Oma’s sister’s kid from the house down the lane, sticking his head in the door. “I just dropped by to tell you that the visiting circuit preacher-feller will be at Sunday meetin’. Word is that he’s really good.” The awkward, tall, lanky kid turned and looked at Granddad, Grandma, and me with a startled look, stopped and whispered, “Oops! Pardon my blunder, Cousin. Didn’t knowed ya had company.”
“Hershel Woodard Walton! Don’t lie to me here in front of my city-kinfolk! You knowed we had folks come in from out of town….’cause I seen ya lookin’ at their new automobile and smearin’ yer nose all over the winder-glass. And furthermore..…you did NOT drop by to TELL me NUTHIN’! ’Cause I twer the one who told you about the new preacher-feller a comin’ to Sunday meetin’. Now, mind yer manners, and come on in here and speak to yer Cusin’ Perry and his family…. But…first.. kick off them dirty work boots o yours before yer dirty up my clean floor…….And then yer can go home and tell yer maw that if she wants to know who’s visitin’ at my house, she should come down here and take a look fer herself!”
As the stories passed between the kinfolks, I hung onto every word. It was fascinating to be a witness looking back into time before I was born. And I am visiting the very roads where they grew up, played, worked, lived, …and died. Like bringing an old photo album to life page by page. The conversation volleyed back and forth like a ping-pong game. It was a thrill to see them laugh until they sometimes doubled in half. Tears from laughing that often turned to the sad ones. It’s no wonder that Cousin Omi was so excited when we drove up….that she ran to us from the house withopen arms. Cousin Oma's son and cousin in the Rose Garden
Not missing a word, Cousin Oma retrieved her magical apron from the wicker chair, swiped a little dust from the lamp table as she passed then tied her magical all-purpose apron around her waist and motioned for us to follow her to the kitchen. “Guess you folks must have thought I wasn’t never gon’na feed ya dinner.” (For those who didn’t grow up in Texas, that would be the time the family gathered for the evening meal.) I followed Cousin Oma toward whatever had filled the house with that awesome smell baking in the kitchen. Sitting on the windowsill was two beautiful pies topped with enough meringue that made them look like a couple of dishes filled with white clouds. She opened the oven and lifted out a large pan of hot rolls, padding her fingers with her magical all-purpose apron, and set it on top of the stove next to a platter stacked high with fried chicken. She nodded for us to sit around the big round kitchen table next to four big windows that overlooked the back yard where she had her wash (laundry) hanging out on the close-line. “Oops! Don’t let me get to gabbin’ and forget to bring in the fresh sheets fer yer beds.” We had home grown green beans with new potatoes and chicken gravy to go with the hot rolls and fried chicken.
As she began dishing up the lemon pie to take out to the front porch for serving, I asked, “Before dessert, may I use your restroom?” Cousin Oma took me by my 5-year-old shoulders and ushered me to the back door where she pointed to a sweet little yellow house surrounded by beautiful cotton-candy pink oleander bushes, down a path that led through a gate. I remembered the outdoor restroom earlier at the grocery in the little town. Reluctantly I started down the much longer lonely garden path paved with picturesque flag-stone.
"Wow!" Now, I was alone in a strange place. This was so fearful to me. This was actually my first time ALONE! I was a middle child with two older big brothers and a brother 14 months younger. I could not remember EVER being ALONE before. Our family of six lived in the country in a two bedroom, 1,00-sq.ft., brick house. All four children were in one bedroom with two sets of army surplus bunk-beds. We all did our chores TOGETHER. We were a one car family and Dad took it to work. If we needed anything we waited until Saturday night when Dad got off work and drove into downtown Fort Worth to do our grocery shopping….we ALL went together. (In recent years, my preschool grandchildren have travel over a thousand miles across several states, alone in an airplane. Also, kids today can order any meal and have it delivered to the front door and pay for it with his own credit card.)
It really helped that I could remember my bible school teacher telling about David in the Bible (1 Samuel 17th chapter) who spent most of his time, as a young boy, alone in the fields caring for his father’s sheep. The young boy carried his harp with him and sang to God.... “Maybe it would help me to sing to God!” So I began to sing and watching my steps on the beautiful stones ….completely oblivious of our omnipresent God.
(Reminds me today of a song the comforting words …”I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses…And the voice I hear falling on my ear the Son of God discloses…(chorus) And He walks with me, and He talks with me, And He tells me I am His own; And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known.”)
The gate in the fence was a unique PPT gate (a people-pass-through in the fence) that led into the next door neighbor’s field. The PPT was installed as a convenience due to Mr. Jefferson’s “good neighbor” theory. (At home, we call this Christianity!) The County Health Department had ordered Cousin Oma to relocate her outhouse 20 yards downhill from her water well. Her property line would not allow her to do this. So, her next door neighbor, Mr. Jefferson, not only allowed her to move an outhouse onto his property, but he dug the latrine and brought his equipment over to move her outhouse over to his property. Cousin Oma said, “He’s a quiet man with a big heart. Sometimes he preaches when visiting preacher can’t make it. He not only knows his bible… he lives it!”
(“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” - James 1:27 )
(In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. 8 And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!” ~ Philippians 2:6-8)
(“Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16 as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain.” ~ Philippians 2:14-16)
So, as I began to focused on the shapes of the stepping stones, I was not aware that this strategic location for the outhouse in Mr. Jefferson’s field was also the home of two donkeys, about 8 goats, and one very large bull who was not fond of strangers….(that would be me in my bright red dress!) I had just passed through the PPT gate when Mr. Bull decided to investigate the bright red dress approaching his domain. Hearing the snorting of Mr. Bull, this young city kid did not demonstrate her most intelligent move, which would have been to retreat behind secure line (the fence). I sprinted 15 yards ahead, straight down the lovely garden path paved with the shapely flag-stones, right to the sweet little yellow outhouse surrounded by oleander bushes. It took a few minutes before I could catch my breath and was relaxed enough to do what I had come for. Then, when I opened the door to leave, I saw Mr. Bull waiting with all four hooves planted right on the lovely garden path paved with the shapely flag-stones. My mother had been told more than a few times, that could be as stubborn as a bull….now I know what she meant. I slammed the door and began to consider my plan of escape.
Now, with no obvious plan, I sat back down on the only seat available and picked up the reading material left as a convenience… (around Christmas time we called this the Wish Book. Needless to say, I had time to make out my complete Christmas list….praying I would get home in time to post it.)
Meanwhile, aside from the reminiscing, Granddad had noticed that my lemon meringue pie was still waiting on the serving tray. He asked Grandma if she should go check on me. She walked to the edge of the porch and announced, “Your neighbor’s bull is rigidly focused on your pretty yellow outhouse!”
Cousin Oma briskly marched straight down the flag-stone path, waving her magical apron as she scolding Mr. Bull. He literally wilted and backed away. Cousin Oma yelled that it was safe for me to come out of the little yellow outhouse surrounded by beautiful pink oleander bushes.
(….continued down the road..)
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