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I know looks aren’t everything. At least that’s what mama tried to tell us when we were living hand to mouth over in Centrahoma. Things went pretty well when there was just immediate family around, but someone always came back. You know, the refugees from the dust, the poverty, and foreclosing banks. Such as my uncle’s families from California who returned periodically to visit. Many people from the “dust bowl era” migrated someplace else for the simple reason most chances for being prosperous in the dusty environs of Oklahoma and surrounding states had gone down to about zero.
Read moreMaybe it is the weather that is doing it, but I can’t seem to get all warmed up this spring. The news last week says we are a full and complete whole degree Fahrenheit warmer compared to just last year but I have to go by what is happening now. All respect to Al Gore, I am cold. I am starting to be concerned that the flowers I put out this past weekend will even grow. My son-in-law’s garden has been completely frozen out (and abandoned) so there went “that” particular little avenue of pleasure.
Read moreAllen’s history never fails to amaze. There is this. The Green Corn Revolution in 1915. But first a little background.
Read moreI get all my health care up at the VA in Oklahoma City but it’s when I am standing in a line or sitting in a waiting room that I find out a lot of stuff.
Read moreBack in the 1940s I went to a place we called Victor. Like so many places in rural Oklahoma, Victor has completely faded away. Oh, there are still a few people strung up and down Highway 270 just East of the Big Caston bridge but the only place left that I know is my Uncle Herman’s place. Herman was a brother to Dad. He operated a grocery-gas-station there. A pretty nice one, too. Did a good business. Victor had a school nearby and there was a church and Maxie Cemetery just south of the junction. My grandparents lived just north on Goat Ridge Road, and the road to Wolf Mountain.
Read moreWalker Ray (Corky) my wife Pat and I made a drive down to Eastern Oklahoma some years ago. Our destination was Maxie Cemetery, about a mile off US- 270 a few miles this side of Wister, Oklahoma. We went there to place some new gravestones — the main one marking our grandfather George Washington Boyd’s grave. He was my mom’s dad and he died young in the great pandemic of 1918. May 17 of 1918 to be exact. There was the grave of my great Uncle there too and his was illegible too. So we replaced his too. His name was Mike Boyd. The old sandstones had faded away so bad you could not read the hand chiseled names and dates on them. Corky believed, as did I that families should see to things like this. Neglected graves can become “lost.”
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