In my view one of life’s greatest blessings is the ability to read. This, along with an available source of material, is a way of opening the world to us. We can find books for every interest. I once read a statement, “Someone who can read but doesn’t, is no better off than someone who cannot read.”
I can remember as a small child sitting on the arm of my dad’s chair and having him read the comics to me. He would be reading his evening paper after work and I would find the comic section (I called them the ‘funnies’) and take it to him. He never complained when he laid aside his paper and boosted me onto his lap or the arm of his chair and began to read.
Those are some of my earliest and best memories.
Later after I learned to read, I was fascinated with the Little Golden Books and think I must have read every one of those that was published.
Then I graduated to The Bobsey Twins and Nancy Drew series. There was never a lack of material to enjoy. I realize now that we could have had much more reading resources had we gone to the public library on a regular basis.
I remember as a junior high student, I got involved in some books that were so real to me, I actually believed that I was one of the characters in the stories. One of those books was about a teenage girl who was spending the summer at a camp. Another of the girls became lost one night, and the main character went out with the search party. Eventually the lost girl was located and I remember the feeling of relief and joy as I read this. As the members of the search party sat around the open fire outside, I could taste the hot chocolate they were drinking to warm themselves.
As I progressed into high school, we read some of the classics such as “A Tale of Two Cities.” We even studied some of Chaucer’s works, although I never learned to correctly pronounce the words in the language he used.
Over the years when I have entered a bookstore, I knew I would be there for likely several hours. I must admit that there have been times when I purchased a book that I had previously bought. Or I have checked out books from the library that I’d already read.
As I’ve gotten older and my eyes are not as good as they once were, I’ve often worried what I would do if I lost my ability to read. One of the advantages now is that so much good reading material is available in large print, and I do like that. I believe that these large print books are being made more available each year.
When David was a toddler and Starr a baby, I would sit in my rocker with Starr on my shoulder and David on the arm of my chair. We sat this way for hours, sometimes, but they never grew tired of hearing the stories.
A friend’s little boy came home from school and announced he’d learned to read. His mother pointed to the name embossed on the stove and said, “Read that.”
“We don’t read stoves, we read books, Mom.”
9-3-2009
#450
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Will They Take This ‘Clunker’?
According to the latest news reports, the “Cash for Clunkers” program is due to end tonight. For some persons this has been a very successful event.
During all the publicity regarding this enterprise, I thought how neat it would be if we could turn in our old clunker bodies and get a brand new model.
I’m not suggesting we get a few new parts, but that we could get a completely new body with all parts working and in good order. It’s exciting to think about how we would react to that. Some of us, yours truly included, would have to change our constant complaining to one of gratitude and praise.
I find it disturbing to think back over the past years and realize how I took my energy for granted and never thought to be grateful for the abilities I had.
Most of us have had a much better life than we are willing to admit. Of course, there is always sadness and sorrow, but on the other hand, there is so much joy and happiness mixed in with that.
At times when I have suffered a serious illness, I have said to myself, “If I ever get back on my feet, I’m going to be so thankful and am going to make the best of every day.” Surprisingly enough, I do follow through on that commitment, for a little while, but then I revert to my old ways of finding fault.
On another subject I think this week marks the beginning of school for Texas students. Some of our nearest schools here in Oklahoma have already been in session for several weeks.
Mothers of kindergarteners and those with high school seniors find this a mixed blessing. Of course, they would not have it any other way, but sending that child off for school for the first time is such a big step in the life of a child and the mother, too.
On the other hand those mothers who have seniors this year know that soon those students will likely be on their own. This knowledge causes parents to wonder if they have done their best to teach their students to deal with real life.
I see little students with huge backpacks and wonder what all is in them. I never heard the word “backpack” except in reference to those in the military. Our backpack was a “book satchel.” Then there was the “vanilla folder” as my brother called it for storing some of our papers. Mother made us a little drawstring bag our of printed fabric, sometimes a feed sack, and we used this for storing our crayons to keep them together. We only had the small sized box of Crayolas that contained eight different colors. There were extra pencils and erasers and later, fourth grade, I think, we had to have a pen staff and little pen points that fit into the staff. Oh yes, there was always the bottle of ink that had a tendency to get overturned and spill on someone’s clothes.
The word calculator was not in our vocabulary and no one had ever heard of a computer or cell phone. Ah, but somehow we struggled through and now realize what good times those were.
8-27-2009
#449
During all the publicity regarding this enterprise, I thought how neat it would be if we could turn in our old clunker bodies and get a brand new model.
I’m not suggesting we get a few new parts, but that we could get a completely new body with all parts working and in good order. It’s exciting to think about how we would react to that. Some of us, yours truly included, would have to change our constant complaining to one of gratitude and praise.
I find it disturbing to think back over the past years and realize how I took my energy for granted and never thought to be grateful for the abilities I had.
Most of us have had a much better life than we are willing to admit. Of course, there is always sadness and sorrow, but on the other hand, there is so much joy and happiness mixed in with that.
At times when I have suffered a serious illness, I have said to myself, “If I ever get back on my feet, I’m going to be so thankful and am going to make the best of every day.” Surprisingly enough, I do follow through on that commitment, for a little while, but then I revert to my old ways of finding fault.
On another subject I think this week marks the beginning of school for Texas students. Some of our nearest schools here in Oklahoma have already been in session for several weeks.
Mothers of kindergarteners and those with high school seniors find this a mixed blessing. Of course, they would not have it any other way, but sending that child off for school for the first time is such a big step in the life of a child and the mother, too.
On the other hand those mothers who have seniors this year know that soon those students will likely be on their own. This knowledge causes parents to wonder if they have done their best to teach their students to deal with real life.
I see little students with huge backpacks and wonder what all is in them. I never heard the word “backpack” except in reference to those in the military. Our backpack was a “book satchel.” Then there was the “vanilla folder” as my brother called it for storing some of our papers. Mother made us a little drawstring bag our of printed fabric, sometimes a feed sack, and we used this for storing our crayons to keep them together. We only had the small sized box of Crayolas that contained eight different colors. There were extra pencils and erasers and later, fourth grade, I think, we had to have a pen staff and little pen points that fit into the staff. Oh yes, there was always the bottle of ink that had a tendency to get overturned and spill on someone’s clothes.
The word calculator was not in our vocabulary and no one had ever heard of a computer or cell phone. Ah, but somehow we struggled through and now realize what good times those were.
8-27-2009
#449
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Change is Always Certain
Change—always change. Change is a constant in our lives. We are not always aware that change is taking place, but at some point we realize that we have changed in many ways, as have our circumstances.
Sometimes we long for the ‘good ole days’ before the world changed so much. However this is a trade off: whether we want to go back to the days when women had to heat water on a wood stove to do the wash, or if we would rather have an automatic washer and dryer to take care of our laundry.
Would we want to go back to the days before cell phones? Even though they are sometimes nuisances, cell phones are invaluable in times of crisis when help is needed. As I have seen the value of having a cell phone, I’ve changed my mind about their usefulness.
One of the most evident changes is our fast-paced life. We seem to have no time for the slower schedules and quiet enjoyments of life now. We leave one meeting early in order to get to another meeting late.
There was a time when my life was scheduled up to the minute. I planned the order of all the things I would do and when I would do them. Eventually, it dawned on me that I was really missing out on a lot of pleasurable activities and that I was being a slave to my schedule.
Many times Ray would come into the kitchen where I might be washing dishes and tell me he was going to the country for some reason or other. He would ask me if I would like to go along. Most of the time I told him I had better stay home and finish my chores.
But as time passed, my senses told me that the dishes and other chores would wait, and I had the opportunity to go enjoy some time with him. Since then, my routine has become much more flexible and if I want to leave something undone here at home, I do, and try to make the most of the opportunities that are available to me.
We often give the impression that we are driven by a compulsion to get everything done today.
My mother’s nature was that she only had so much time to do everything on her list and that meant she often times seemed to be going to a fire. Mother wanted us to feel that everything was perfect for us, but the outcome of that desire was that she was usually tired and worn out.
On the other hand, Ray’s mother never seemed to get in a hurry and when we went to her house, she always took time to sit down and visit. She made us feel welcome.
As I think of all the changes of the past 50 years, I wonder what it will be in another half century. What conditions will my great-grandchildren confront? Will they take time to stop and enjoy the beauty all around them, or will they speed by so fast, they never notice God’s beauty? We had better smell those roses today, they won’t last forever.
8-20-2009
#448
Sometimes we long for the ‘good ole days’ before the world changed so much. However this is a trade off: whether we want to go back to the days when women had to heat water on a wood stove to do the wash, or if we would rather have an automatic washer and dryer to take care of our laundry.
Would we want to go back to the days before cell phones? Even though they are sometimes nuisances, cell phones are invaluable in times of crisis when help is needed. As I have seen the value of having a cell phone, I’ve changed my mind about their usefulness.
One of the most evident changes is our fast-paced life. We seem to have no time for the slower schedules and quiet enjoyments of life now. We leave one meeting early in order to get to another meeting late.
There was a time when my life was scheduled up to the minute. I planned the order of all the things I would do and when I would do them. Eventually, it dawned on me that I was really missing out on a lot of pleasurable activities and that I was being a slave to my schedule.
Many times Ray would come into the kitchen where I might be washing dishes and tell me he was going to the country for some reason or other. He would ask me if I would like to go along. Most of the time I told him I had better stay home and finish my chores.
But as time passed, my senses told me that the dishes and other chores would wait, and I had the opportunity to go enjoy some time with him. Since then, my routine has become much more flexible and if I want to leave something undone here at home, I do, and try to make the most of the opportunities that are available to me.
We often give the impression that we are driven by a compulsion to get everything done today.
My mother’s nature was that she only had so much time to do everything on her list and that meant she often times seemed to be going to a fire. Mother wanted us to feel that everything was perfect for us, but the outcome of that desire was that she was usually tired and worn out.
On the other hand, Ray’s mother never seemed to get in a hurry and when we went to her house, she always took time to sit down and visit. She made us feel welcome.
As I think of all the changes of the past 50 years, I wonder what it will be in another half century. What conditions will my great-grandchildren confront? Will they take time to stop and enjoy the beauty all around them, or will they speed by so fast, they never notice God’s beauty? We had better smell those roses today, they won’t last forever.
8-20-2009
#448
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friends are Truly Rewarding
One of life’s most rewarding relationships is that of true friendship. We meet persons who become friends in many ways. Sometimes, a mutual friend brings us together. We may have the same hobby, enjoy the same reading material, or other interests in common.
It’s been said that a friend reaches out for your hand, and touches your heart.
Friends are everywhere and are there to share your joys and your sorrows. True friends know the “real you,” and care about you anyway.
Our longtime friends may have been our schoolmates or neighbors when we were young. One of the sad things is that as we travel life’s path, we often lose touch with our friends. Oh, we don’t intend for this to happen, but we become so busy with our own lives, that we neglect checking with our friends or staying in touch.
As happens quite often, our friends’ families also become our friends and we care about each person in that clan. I still remember the parents of so many of my friends from grade school. When my dad passed away, a man came to visit my mother and convey his condolences. We had lived across the street from each other back about the time we first began school. I had not seen him nor heard from him, in many years.
I’ve heard someone say, “Well, you don’t get to choose your relatives, but you can choose your friends.”
As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that my friends have taught me many lessons. Some have had serious health problems, and yet, they have stayed strong and not become bitter. Due to the time in which we grew up, many friends have suffered through severe financial difficulties and yet are generous to the various needs of the community.
When a long period of time has passed and you’ve been separated from your friends for whatever reason, re-connecting with them is a special gift.
I still cherish the friendships I enjoyed during the times we lived in different locations. Once in a while, I run into these people unexpectedly and we spend long periods of time trying to catch up.
As time goes by, you may think of a friend and wonder where he is now and what he is doing. Locating that person is not always easy or possible. When my mother learned that one of her friends had died, I remember Mother saying, “I had intended to go see her, but I didn’t get over there.”
Some of my longtime friends and I seldom get to see each other, but I try to stay in touch by phone and mail. At my age, many of my friends have died and I miss them, but I still have the wonderful memories of our times together.
When the moving truck came to bring our things from Antlers here to Waurika, I remember standing in our yard, crying and hugging one of my dear friends. That has been 52 years ago, but we are still friends.
My life has been wonderfully blessed to have the friends who have helped me along life’s way. I hope you feel the same way.
8-13-2009
#447
It’s been said that a friend reaches out for your hand, and touches your heart.
Friends are everywhere and are there to share your joys and your sorrows. True friends know the “real you,” and care about you anyway.
Our longtime friends may have been our schoolmates or neighbors when we were young. One of the sad things is that as we travel life’s path, we often lose touch with our friends. Oh, we don’t intend for this to happen, but we become so busy with our own lives, that we neglect checking with our friends or staying in touch.
As happens quite often, our friends’ families also become our friends and we care about each person in that clan. I still remember the parents of so many of my friends from grade school. When my dad passed away, a man came to visit my mother and convey his condolences. We had lived across the street from each other back about the time we first began school. I had not seen him nor heard from him, in many years.
I’ve heard someone say, “Well, you don’t get to choose your relatives, but you can choose your friends.”
As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize that my friends have taught me many lessons. Some have had serious health problems, and yet, they have stayed strong and not become bitter. Due to the time in which we grew up, many friends have suffered through severe financial difficulties and yet are generous to the various needs of the community.
When a long period of time has passed and you’ve been separated from your friends for whatever reason, re-connecting with them is a special gift.
I still cherish the friendships I enjoyed during the times we lived in different locations. Once in a while, I run into these people unexpectedly and we spend long periods of time trying to catch up.
As time goes by, you may think of a friend and wonder where he is now and what he is doing. Locating that person is not always easy or possible. When my mother learned that one of her friends had died, I remember Mother saying, “I had intended to go see her, but I didn’t get over there.”
Some of my longtime friends and I seldom get to see each other, but I try to stay in touch by phone and mail. At my age, many of my friends have died and I miss them, but I still have the wonderful memories of our times together.
When the moving truck came to bring our things from Antlers here to Waurika, I remember standing in our yard, crying and hugging one of my dear friends. That has been 52 years ago, but we are still friends.
My life has been wonderfully blessed to have the friends who have helped me along life’s way. I hope you feel the same way.
8-13-2009
#447
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Carving a Bird Not My Forte
A friend surprised me the other day when she asked, “Evelyn, how long has it been since you’ve seen a wishbone?”
I began to laugh and told her that just the day before, my daughter and I had mentioned that. I thought about this and could not remember the last time I’d seen a wishbone, or eaten a “pulley bone” as we called it.
That used to be my favorite piece of chicken. In fact, my brother and sister and I fought over who got the wishbone. We made a big ritual about pulling it apart and seeing which of us got the short piece. I know it was different in families, but in our family, the person with the short piece got his wish.
I can’t think of anything better than a good crisp fried wishbone. Over the years I’ve been surprised at the number of persons, men especially, who grew up on farms and once they are adults and move away, they refuse to eat chicken fixed any way.
When I think of wishbones, I think of my early years of marriage. With no car, Ray and I walked downtown to the grocery store in Stillwater. Due to our tight budget, we had to shop very frugally, but we never went hungry and usually had plenty of good, nourishing food.
One Saturday we purchased a fryer and brought it home. When I told Ray I had never cut up a chicken, he rolled up his sleeves, scrubbed his hands, got a large knife and began to cut the chicken into pieces to be fried. Because chickens were cheaper than most other meat at that time, we began to eat chicken often, but he continued to cut them up for me.
Finally, one week we brought the chicken home and Ray said, “You think you can cut this one up now?” I looked at him and then at the chicken, and shook my head ‘no’.
“Okay, I want you to watch carefully while I do this, because you will be the one to do this from now on.”
Watching him, it looked so simple, but I knew better. I did not buy a chicken for several weeks after that, because I knew what lay ahead.
Finally, near the end of the month, before Ray’s GI money for school arrived, I realized it was either chicken or no meat. So, reluctantly, I picked out a chicken and brought it home.
Ray went into the bedroom and left me in the kitchen to do my work. I remember calling to him, “Ray, I need help.”
He came into the kitchen and saw the butchered carcass of that poor chicken and began to laugh. I was on the verge of tears. Why hadn’t my mother taught me this while I was still living at home?
I never did become very adept at cutting up chickens, but learned that if I made chicken and dumplings, the butchering of the chicken was not quite so obvious.
To this day, I doubt that I could do a decent job of cutting up a chicken, but then I’ve found they do come in pieces, ready to fry or put in a pot of dumplings. Thank goodness.erron
8-6-2009
#446
I began to laugh and told her that just the day before, my daughter and I had mentioned that. I thought about this and could not remember the last time I’d seen a wishbone, or eaten a “pulley bone” as we called it.
That used to be my favorite piece of chicken. In fact, my brother and sister and I fought over who got the wishbone. We made a big ritual about pulling it apart and seeing which of us got the short piece. I know it was different in families, but in our family, the person with the short piece got his wish.
I can’t think of anything better than a good crisp fried wishbone. Over the years I’ve been surprised at the number of persons, men especially, who grew up on farms and once they are adults and move away, they refuse to eat chicken fixed any way.
When I think of wishbones, I think of my early years of marriage. With no car, Ray and I walked downtown to the grocery store in Stillwater. Due to our tight budget, we had to shop very frugally, but we never went hungry and usually had plenty of good, nourishing food.
One Saturday we purchased a fryer and brought it home. When I told Ray I had never cut up a chicken, he rolled up his sleeves, scrubbed his hands, got a large knife and began to cut the chicken into pieces to be fried. Because chickens were cheaper than most other meat at that time, we began to eat chicken often, but he continued to cut them up for me.
Finally, one week we brought the chicken home and Ray said, “You think you can cut this one up now?” I looked at him and then at the chicken, and shook my head ‘no’.
“Okay, I want you to watch carefully while I do this, because you will be the one to do this from now on.”
Watching him, it looked so simple, but I knew better. I did not buy a chicken for several weeks after that, because I knew what lay ahead.
Finally, near the end of the month, before Ray’s GI money for school arrived, I realized it was either chicken or no meat. So, reluctantly, I picked out a chicken and brought it home.
Ray went into the bedroom and left me in the kitchen to do my work. I remember calling to him, “Ray, I need help.”
He came into the kitchen and saw the butchered carcass of that poor chicken and began to laugh. I was on the verge of tears. Why hadn’t my mother taught me this while I was still living at home?
I never did become very adept at cutting up chickens, but learned that if I made chicken and dumplings, the butchering of the chicken was not quite so obvious.
To this day, I doubt that I could do a decent job of cutting up a chicken, but then I’ve found they do come in pieces, ready to fry or put in a pot of dumplings. Thank goodness.erron
8-6-2009
#446
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Summers Seem Too Short
Where has this summer gone? Oh, I know that we still have to face August and September and that we can expect more heat during that time. However, schools will be starting a new year in most of this area within the next few weeks and we will be off on another round of fall and winter activities.
Recently I was thinking about county fairs that are most often held in early September. As a child, my siblings and I did not know nor care about the crop displays or the animals shown at county fairs. We were accustomed to attending the state fair in Dallas, and to us, it meant lots of rides and special treats of food.
Can you remember the taste of cotton candy? To me, cotton candy looked so inviting and then when I began to eat it, it melted down to nothing. This was similar to tasting vanilla flavoring. When Mother made a cake, I would usually be standing by her side, or perhaps sitting on the cabinet countertop. When she put that vanilla in the cake, the aroma was tantalizing.
I remember begging her to let me have a taste and she told me, “You won’t like it,” but eventually she did go ahead and give me a small taste in a teaspoon. What a disappointment! It was so bitter I never asked to taste it a second time.
When it came to rides, I was never the daredevil that my siblings were. Once when we were all on the Ferris wheel, and the operator stopped the machine while we were right at the top. I must have been about ten or twelve years old, and I begin yelling, “Let me off.” For some reason, I was really frightened.
The operator started the wheel up and when we got to the bottom, he stopped and let me off. I was so embarrassed, but at the same time, I was glad to be off.
In 1936 when Texas celebrated their Centennial, my dad had bought several books of tickets for the various activities at the fair. About the time the Centennial activities got into full swing, my brother came down with scarlet fever and we were quarantined.
After a certain period of time, my sister and I were given a clean bill of health and were allowed to leave the house. However, Mother could not go off and leave my brother while she took us to the fair, so my maternal grandmother came and stayed a week or so, and took my sister and me to the fair. We would not think of letting those tickets go to waste.
At that time, my grandmother must have been in her seventies. I recall we stayed all day at the fair and I can’t imagine a person that age herding two children all that time.
I do remember that I had a new appreciation for good cold drinking water after that day of consuming soft drinks all day.
After Ray and I had a family, he did help us learn to enjoy the crops on display and the beautiful animals that were shown with such pride.
7-29-2009
#445
Recently I was thinking about county fairs that are most often held in early September. As a child, my siblings and I did not know nor care about the crop displays or the animals shown at county fairs. We were accustomed to attending the state fair in Dallas, and to us, it meant lots of rides and special treats of food.
Can you remember the taste of cotton candy? To me, cotton candy looked so inviting and then when I began to eat it, it melted down to nothing. This was similar to tasting vanilla flavoring. When Mother made a cake, I would usually be standing by her side, or perhaps sitting on the cabinet countertop. When she put that vanilla in the cake, the aroma was tantalizing.
I remember begging her to let me have a taste and she told me, “You won’t like it,” but eventually she did go ahead and give me a small taste in a teaspoon. What a disappointment! It was so bitter I never asked to taste it a second time.
When it came to rides, I was never the daredevil that my siblings were. Once when we were all on the Ferris wheel, and the operator stopped the machine while we were right at the top. I must have been about ten or twelve years old, and I begin yelling, “Let me off.” For some reason, I was really frightened.
The operator started the wheel up and when we got to the bottom, he stopped and let me off. I was so embarrassed, but at the same time, I was glad to be off.
In 1936 when Texas celebrated their Centennial, my dad had bought several books of tickets for the various activities at the fair. About the time the Centennial activities got into full swing, my brother came down with scarlet fever and we were quarantined.
After a certain period of time, my sister and I were given a clean bill of health and were allowed to leave the house. However, Mother could not go off and leave my brother while she took us to the fair, so my maternal grandmother came and stayed a week or so, and took my sister and me to the fair. We would not think of letting those tickets go to waste.
At that time, my grandmother must have been in her seventies. I recall we stayed all day at the fair and I can’t imagine a person that age herding two children all that time.
I do remember that I had a new appreciation for good cold drinking water after that day of consuming soft drinks all day.
After Ray and I had a family, he did help us learn to enjoy the crops on display and the beautiful animals that were shown with such pride.
7-29-2009
#445
Traveling a Well-worn Path
My continuing project of cleaning out old records and memorabilia is like traveling a well-worn path. However, many of the items I am discovering, are things I had long since forgotten.
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
I’ve learned one thing: a person should always designate who the persons are in photos and should record a date. Last month when my aunt celebrated her 101st birthday, her daughter gave one of my nieces some old pictures and my niece Marcia became interested in checking out some of our ancestors.
Since I am the oldest of my parents’ children, I remembered more than my brother or either of my sisters, but even so, there is a large blank space in the line of our ancestors.
As I search through the pictures and old news clippings, there is always the decision as to which things to keep and which to toss. I have found several letters written in the mid 1970s that were sent by friends. Many of these persons are no longer with us, but I found a few that I intend to pass along to the offspring of these friends.
I spent a few days last week shredding old income tax records. I decided that I could safely dispose of the first income tax return that Ray and I filed for 1948.
Removing the staples from these records takes longer than the actual shredding process. I try to contain the staples, but there are always some that escape, so I have to hunt for those.
While I have been busy doing these chores, Starr has examined some of the records from her school days here in Waurika, from first grade to graduation. We’ve enjoyed many laughs as we looked at these and recalled events surrounding the photos.
When these young persons get out of high school and college, the old records don’t seem to have the same meanings for them as they do for us seniors. As they grow older, however, they do seem to find more interest in the past.
I hate to admit this, but I am the type person who procrastinates on chores until I am pushed into doing something about the problem. Well, that’s what it has come to with the paper work. I had large boxes stacked in my closets, filling them to the extent that we could hardly get our clothes in the closets. So, I could no longer ignore the situation.
Because of my niece’s interest in our family history, we are beginning to realize just how much we do not know. She did have a good starting place when she entered my maternal grandmother’s maiden name as Goostree. I doubt that there are that many persons who claim that name.
Both my grandfathers died at an early age and we do not know much about either of them or their lineage. I was fortunate enough to get to know each of them somewhat, but at my young age at that time, I never took much interest in finding out about them. My dad was the oldest of six children in his family and he was the first to die. Since then, 1989, all of his siblings have passed on, so finding someone with true facts about his family is almost impossible. However, it’s fun to search anyway.
7-22-2009
#444
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