As everyone who knows me can attest, I have always had a problem with my weight. And, of course, that problem has magnified itself as I've grown older.
When I graduated from high school, I weighed 187 pounds (Its funny that I can remember something like that!). For my height, that was considered overweight. I stayed around that weight during my college days and when I first got married.
Marriage does a lot of strange things to you, including making you gain weight. After a year and a half of marriage and a good "desk" job, I weighed 225 pounds. In October, 1971, while Louise and I were living in Detroit, I went on a diet. I lost 50 pounds in 90 days and, by the time we got back to Oklahoma for Christmas, weighed 175 pounds! This was the lightest I had been in years.
Eventually, though, the weight all came back, plus a whole lot more! At one point in the late 1980's, I got on the shipping scales at work and they topped 300 pounds. Once again, I lost some weight but didn't really change my lifestyle like we are told we have to do.
In fact, over the years, I figure I have gained and lost over 400 pounds going on diets and then gaining the weight back.
Last year, we had a couple of friends who really enjoyed some weight loss with bariatric surgery and Louise decided that she wanted to do that. Her doctor gave her a reference to a bariatric clinic in Owasso and, on September 21, we attended a seminar there.
That seminar acted as a motivator for us and we decided to change our eating habits and get more exercise. In the meantime, Louise started seeing the doctors there and preparing for her surgery. I even talked to the doctors about the surgery for myself but decided that I might be able to lose enough weight on my own.
It was decided that she would have her surgery after we returned from south Texas this spring. Over the winter, we were very diligent about our diet and exercise and got a big surprise when we returned home. Louise had lost so much weight that our insurance would no longer cover the surgery! The doctors at the bariatric hospital did tell us that they would be happy to go ahead and do it for cash. It would only cost $17,000! By now, we had decided that we could do it on our own.
As of today, I've lost 73 pounds and weigh 203. My goal is in the 160-170 pound range so I still have a ways to go. I'll let you know when I've reached my goal.
One of the nice things about losing weight, other than the health aspect, is having people notice and comment. In fact, one friend saw me the other day and raved about my weight loss. She wanted to know how I had done it. I told her that I had discovered the real secret to weight loss and she really pressured me to tell her what it was. When I told her that it was diet and exercise, she was really let down.
Louise and I are now beginning to think about maintenance. We are going to be at our goals in a few months and don't want to ever have to go through the weight loss deal again so maintenance will be very important to us. This is something we've never done before so it should prove challenging. Wish us luck!
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
The Rio Grande Valley
Louise and I have just wrapped up our 10th winter in the Rio Grande Valley (simply called "The Valley" by most of the people here).
The Valley starts at Rio Grande City in the West and runs to Brownsville in the East. Total population of the area is about 1.3 million people. The population swells by about 710,000 people in the winter as "Winter Texans" descend on the area to avoid winter in their home state.
If you drive through a shopping center parking lot, you will see more out of state and out of country license plates than Texas plates. Ontario and Quebec plates are very common, along with those from the Mexican state of Tamaulipas. Winter Texans from Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota are everywhere during the winter.
The Rio Grande Valley is roughly divided into three areas with the upper Valley starting at Rio Grande City and including Mission, McAllen, Edinburg, and Pharr. The mid Valley runs from Alamo in the west to Harlingen in the east and includes Weslaco, Mercedes and La Feria. The lower Valley is dominated by Brownsville and includes Port Isabel and South Padre Island.
The Hispanic influence is everywhere and the Spanish language is as common as English. The Valley is separated from sister cities in Mexico by the Rio Grande River. Reynosa is just across the river from McAllen, Nuevo Progreso is a sister city to Weslaco, and Matamoros lies just across the river from Brownsville.
Winter Texans have traditionally crossed the border in droves to shop in Mexican towns. Their spending has focused primarily on pharmaceuticals, liquor, dental services, and of course, souvenirs. Because of the drug wars which have become common in Mexico, many Winter Texans today are hesitant to cross the border. Louise and I used to regularly cross the border but quit doing that about five years ago.
Interestingly, the number of Winter Texans is declining rapidly. Five years ago, it was estimated that about 800,000 people came to the Valley for the winter. That number today, as stated earlier, is around 710,000. It seems that many of our generation and the one following are not attracted to the RV lifestyle and to spending their winters in warmer climes.
Louise and I do really enjoy our winters here. It seems that every year, about October, we begin to really look forward to going south. The park where we stay, VIP La Feria, is in La Feria, about seven miles west of Harlingen. We've been there long enough that we have a lot of friends in the park and spend a lot of time visiting back and forth in each others' sites. We see these friends on a daily basis, unlike at home so we really are closer to them than to our friends at home.
The Valley starts at Rio Grande City in the West and runs to Brownsville in the East. Total population of the area is about 1.3 million people. The population swells by about 710,000 people in the winter as "Winter Texans" descend on the area to avoid winter in their home state.
If you drive through a shopping center parking lot, you will see more out of state and out of country license plates than Texas plates. Ontario and Quebec plates are very common, along with those from the Mexican state of Tamaulipas. Winter Texans from Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota are everywhere during the winter.
The Rio Grande Valley is roughly divided into three areas with the upper Valley starting at Rio Grande City and including Mission, McAllen, Edinburg, and Pharr. The mid Valley runs from Alamo in the west to Harlingen in the east and includes Weslaco, Mercedes and La Feria. The lower Valley is dominated by Brownsville and includes Port Isabel and South Padre Island.
The Hispanic influence is everywhere and the Spanish language is as common as English. The Valley is separated from sister cities in Mexico by the Rio Grande River. Reynosa is just across the river from McAllen, Nuevo Progreso is a sister city to Weslaco, and Matamoros lies just across the river from Brownsville.
Winter Texans have traditionally crossed the border in droves to shop in Mexican towns. Their spending has focused primarily on pharmaceuticals, liquor, dental services, and of course, souvenirs. Because of the drug wars which have become common in Mexico, many Winter Texans today are hesitant to cross the border. Louise and I used to regularly cross the border but quit doing that about five years ago.
Interestingly, the number of Winter Texans is declining rapidly. Five years ago, it was estimated that about 800,000 people came to the Valley for the winter. That number today, as stated earlier, is around 710,000. It seems that many of our generation and the one following are not attracted to the RV lifestyle and to spending their winters in warmer climes.
Louise and I do really enjoy our winters here. It seems that every year, about October, we begin to really look forward to going south. The park where we stay, VIP La Feria, is in La Feria, about seven miles west of Harlingen. We've been there long enough that we have a lot of friends in the park and spend a lot of time visiting back and forth in each others' sites. We see these friends on a daily basis, unlike at home so we really are closer to them than to our friends at home.
I think we will continue to come to the Valley as long as we can. We sure don't miss the Oklahoma winters!
Thomas Perry Porter Sr.
Tom Porter was born October 6, 1888, in Austin, Travis County, Texas. Austin is the capital of the State of Texas and Travis County is slightly more than 1000 square miles in size. His parents were William Eugene Porter and Laura Emaline Dunham Porter.
William was born in Minnesota but had moved to Missouri and then to Texas as a youth. Laura was born in Missouri and had married L.A. Wyatt when she was 16 years old in Palo Pinto County, Texas. Palo Pinto County is located about 65 miles west of Ft. Worth. L.A. Wyatt’s fate is unknown but Laura had a son by him, Albert, who was born in 1879 in Palo Pinto County. Of interest to residents of Mannford, Albert later married a woman named Callie and they had a son, Raymond. Raymond was known to local residents as "Slip". He was sort of the town "ne'er do well".
In 1886, Laura married William Eugene Porter in Fannin County, Texas. Fannin County is located about 60 miles northeast of Dallas, a good distance from Palo Pinto County. Laura and William had five children as follows:
Ethel Dorothy 1887 Whitesboro, Grayson County, Texas
Thomas Perry 1888 Travis County, Texas
Hermina (girl) 1893 Indian Territory, Oklahoma
Doss 1898 Indian Territory, Oklahoma
Arbell Abt. 1899 Indian Territory, Oklahoma
There are, of course, no records of the 1890 Census. During the 1900 Census, William Porter was listed in Township Two of the Chickasaw Nation in Indian Territory. All five of his children, as well as Albert Wyatt, his stepson were listed as living with him. Interestingly, William’s marital status was listed as widowed. It is presumed that Laura died during the birth of their youngest child, Arbell.
William Porter supposedly died in Antlers in Pushmataha County, Oklahoma in 1904. No documentation for his death exists however. At any rate, Tom would have been 16 years old at this time.
By the time of the 1910 Census, Ethel Dorothy had married William Renner and they were living in Roger Mills County, Oklahoma, just northwest of Elk City. The Census listed them as having two living children at home as well as her brother, Doss. The rest of the children, Tom Hermina, and Arbell, have not been found in the 1910 Census, neither has Albert Lee Wyatt, their half brother. Albert Lee did, however, register for the draft in 1917 (during World War I) while living in Mannford, Creek County, Oklahoma.
Sometime before 1910, Tom Porter also came to Mannford. He worked as a cowboy on the Wilson Ranch whose foreman was M.W. “Cap” Alexander. DNA testing indicates that Cap Alexander’s wife, May, had a son, Tommy Herman, by Tom Porter while she was married to Alexander. Since Tommy was born in February, 1911, it is presumed that Tom Porter was working on the Wilson Ranch in 1910.
By 1917, when Tom Porter registered for the draft, he was living in Dundee in the northwest corner of Archer County, Texas, just south of Wichita Falls. He was still listed as a cowboy, now working for W.T. Waggoner on his ranch. The Waggoner Ranch was then and is today the largest ranch in the United States with a single fence line. The Ranch encompasses more than 510,000 acres in six counties. In the draft registration, he was listed as tall and slender and with a stiff arm. Family lore indicates that he was injured in a fall from a horse, the arm was never set properly and resulted in it being somewhat immobile.
Tom married Margaret Ann Cox on October 30, 1919, and they had two children: Thomas Perry Jr., who was born in 1920, and Minna Lo, born in 1922. Both were born in Menard, Texas, in Menard County. Menard is 235 miles from Dundee so it is presumed that he no longer worked for the Waggoners in 1920. In fact, the 1920 Census listed his occupation as a truck driver for an oil company. The 1930 Census listed his occupation as a tool dresser for an oil company.
By 1935, Tom and his wife, Ann, and their two children had moved back to Vera in Knox County, just southwest of the Waggoner Ranch. His occupation was listed as foreman and it is possible that he was a foreman on the ranch. They remained in Vera at least through 1942, where he registered for the draft during World War II. In the draft registration, he was listed as working for W. R. Ross of Ft. Worth, although his occupation was not listed.
Sometime after 1942, Tom and Ann moved from Vera to Seymour, a distance of only 18 miles. Tom opened a saddle and leather shop on Main Street in Seymour and ran that business until his death in 1974. For several years during that period, he shared his store with a watch repairman, V. V. Overton, who had a work bench in the front of the store.
Tom died on June 7, 1974, and is buried in Riverview Cemetery in Seymour. Four years after his death, his son, Thomas Jr., died in New Orleans, Louisana. Tom Jr. is buried beside his parents. Ann lived for in Seymour for 18 years after Tom’s death, dying on February 26, 1992. She is buried beside her husband.
Monday, March 7, 2016
The Real Truth
In August, 2015, I wrote about DNA testing which had raised some doubts about our family name. As Paul Harvey used to say on the radio, here is "The Rest of the Story".
My
adoptive father, Tommy Alexander, was born on February 7, 1911,
ostensibly to Milton Walker Alexander and Mary May Stephens
Alexander.
Milton
Walker, or “Cap” as he was called, was the foreman of a ranch in
Mannford, Oklahoma. He had come there in 1901 or 1902 with a herd of
cattle which had been brought from Archer City, Texas. The owner of
the ranch was Luke F. Wilson from Kansas City, Missouri. Cap
was in charge of the ranch in Mannford and had several cowboys
working for him. Tommy was named after two of the cowboys, Herman
Weir and Thomas Perry “Tom” Porter, as well as for his father.
(L to R): M.W. "Cap" Alexander, Bob Powell, Tom Porter, Katie Porter
Mary
May Stephens was born in Arkansas in 1881 and had spent most of her
young life in Missouri before coming to Mannford around 1900. Cap,
her husband, had been born in Tennessee in 1857 so he was 24 years
older than his wife. Their first child, Beulah, was born in Mannford
in 1907. Sometime after her birth but before 1911, the ranch house
burned. Cap and May moved to another house on the ranch, near
Kellyville, Oklahoma, while a new ranch house was being built in
Mannford. Tommy was born in the house near Kellyville.
Cap
Alexander died in 1935 in Mannford and is buried there. May, his
wife, died in 1967 and she is also buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in
Mannford.
Cap
and May's marriage was tumultuous to say the least. Eventually they
divorced and she remarried, living in several places before her
death. In all, May was married four times.
Tommy
Alexander, after a first marriage that lasted 13 years, met Annie Sue
Nash and married her. Sue had two young boys from a previous
marriage, Roy Edward (this writer) and Gary Wade. Tommy adopted
these two boys and he and Sue had two children of their own, Mary Sue
and Thomas Milton. Tommy died in 2004 at the age of 92 and Sue died
in 2012 at 86 years of age.
In
2014, Roy Edward, “Edd”, who had been involved with genealogy for
several years, became interested in DNA. He had his own DNA tested,
along with those of his wife, Mary Louise “Louise” and Thomas
Milton “Milt”. He noticed that, although Milt had a lot of
cousins turn up on his paternal grandmother's side, there were no
Alexanders who showed up.
Finally,
in mid-2015, a match showed up on Ancestry DNA which showed a second
cousin relationship between Milt and a person who lived in
California. After exchanging several emails, it was discovered that
one of this man's great uncles was Thomas Perry Porter, the cowboy
who had worked for Cap Alexander on the ranch in Mannford. Since
then, several Porter relatives have been discovered through DNA
testing.
Apparently
May Alexander, who was 24 years younger than her husband, had had a
relationship or “dalliance” with Thomas Perry Porter! At the
time Tommy was born, Thomas Porter was 23 years old and single. He
later married and had two additional children. Interestingly, Tommy
Alexander was named after his biological father.
May
Alexander probably knew who Tommy Alexander's biological father was,
since she named him. What will always remain a mystery is whether
Tommy knew who his father was. Although he was much more fond of Cap
Alexander than of his mother, May, he did have several pictures of
Tom Porter which he kept throughout his life.
Without
a doubt, May went to her grave thinking that no one would ever know
about her dalliance with Tom Porter. However, 50 years later,
through DNA testing, the truth came out!
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Sourdough Bread
I'm sure we've all had foods that we didn't like for years and then all of a sudden we did. I can name a bunch of those foods, including sourdough bread. For years, I wouldn't eat the stuff; now I can't get enough of it.
A lot of people don't like to fool with making sourdough because of having to fuss over the starter. For those of you who don't know, the starter replaces the yeast which you would normally put in homemade bread. The starter consists of two parts flour and one part water placed in a container and left to ferment. If you're lucky, in a couple of days your starter will start to puff up and Eureka! You have a starter.
At this point, I should tell you that, if it takes on a green appearance and/or begins to smell rotten, the wrong yeast got to your flour/water mixture. You need to throw it out and start over. The starter with the right yeast will smell tart but not rotten. Most things you read on the internet tell you that you must feed your starter every week to keep it good. Phooey! I've had a starter in the fridge for three months, taken it out and fed it once, and used it.
Let's talk about how to feed your starter. If you started with 1 1/2 cups flour and 3/4 cups water, scoop out one cup of the starter and throw it away (or make waffles out of it!). Add one cup of flour, 1/2 cup of lukewarm water and stir thoroughly. Let it set, covered, on the kitchen counter for six to eight hours while it grows. Then put it in the fridge to be used when you are ready.
When you are ready to make bread, pull the starter out of the fridge, feed it as above, then wait for it to grow. When it doubles in size, its ready to go.
My favorite sourdough recipe is as follows. Mix three cups of flour, 1 1/2 to 1 5/8 cups lukewarm water, and one cup of starter in a mixing bowl for a couple of minutes. Cover the mixture and let it rise on your counter for about four hours. Don't forget to feed your starter and let it grow as well. After the four hour rise, put it in the fridge and let it sit there at least 12 hours (till the next day).
Pull the mixture out of the fridge and let it come up to room temperature. Add 2 more cups of flour, 1 tablespoon sugar, and 2 teaspoons salt and knead either by hand (yuck!) or with a mixer. After it is kneaded thoroughly, cover it and let it sit for two hours or until it has doubled in size.
Pull the dough out of the bowl (it will be a bit sticky but don't worry about that), gently divide it into two loaves and place each in a 5x9 pan. Let it rise again until it has really puffed up. Spray it with lukewarm water and place in an oven which has been preheated to 425°. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until the crust turns a golden brown.
Some other notes: I always use bread flour. It is a bit higher in glutens than all purpose flour and makes a chewier bread. Also, if you have a baking thermometer with a probe use it and remove the bread from the oven when it is 190-195° inside. Yum, I can smell it already!
A lot of people don't like to fool with making sourdough because of having to fuss over the starter. For those of you who don't know, the starter replaces the yeast which you would normally put in homemade bread. The starter consists of two parts flour and one part water placed in a container and left to ferment. If you're lucky, in a couple of days your starter will start to puff up and Eureka! You have a starter.
At this point, I should tell you that, if it takes on a green appearance and/or begins to smell rotten, the wrong yeast got to your flour/water mixture. You need to throw it out and start over. The starter with the right yeast will smell tart but not rotten. Most things you read on the internet tell you that you must feed your starter every week to keep it good. Phooey! I've had a starter in the fridge for three months, taken it out and fed it once, and used it.
Let's talk about how to feed your starter. If you started with 1 1/2 cups flour and 3/4 cups water, scoop out one cup of the starter and throw it away (or make waffles out of it!). Add one cup of flour, 1/2 cup of lukewarm water and stir thoroughly. Let it set, covered, on the kitchen counter for six to eight hours while it grows. Then put it in the fridge to be used when you are ready.
When you are ready to make bread, pull the starter out of the fridge, feed it as above, then wait for it to grow. When it doubles in size, its ready to go.
My favorite sourdough recipe is as follows. Mix three cups of flour, 1 1/2 to 1 5/8 cups lukewarm water, and one cup of starter in a mixing bowl for a couple of minutes. Cover the mixture and let it rise on your counter for about four hours. Don't forget to feed your starter and let it grow as well. After the four hour rise, put it in the fridge and let it sit there at least 12 hours (till the next day).
Pull the mixture out of the fridge and let it come up to room temperature. Add 2 more cups of flour, 1 tablespoon sugar, and 2 teaspoons salt and knead either by hand (yuck!) or with a mixer. After it is kneaded thoroughly, cover it and let it sit for two hours or until it has doubled in size.
Pull the dough out of the bowl (it will be a bit sticky but don't worry about that), gently divide it into two loaves and place each in a 5x9 pan. Let it rise again until it has really puffed up. Spray it with lukewarm water and place in an oven which has been preheated to 425°. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until the crust turns a golden brown.
Some other notes: I always use bread flour. It is a bit higher in glutens than all purpose flour and makes a chewier bread. Also, if you have a baking thermometer with a probe use it and remove the bread from the oven when it is 190-195° inside. Yum, I can smell it already!
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
An Old Man's Musings
Every generation has memories of things, people and places that the next generation has no clue about. I was reminded of some of these the other day and decided to write them down.
The Locker or Ice Plant - By the time I came along, we had an electric refrigerator but no freezer. When we butchered a calf, a hog or chickens, we had to rent a locker at the local ice plant to store our meat in. Two or three times a month, we would drive into Sand Springs and get enough meat out of the locker to last until the next trip. The ice plant in Sand Springs was located on south Main Street and I remember it well.
Feed Sacks - All our feed was purchased in 100 pound sacks. Cattle cubes and hog pellets were all in burlap sacks but the chicken feed was in printed pattern material. Mom always had to go to Alfred Hughes' feed store in Mannford with Dad because she had to pick out the sacks she needed for sewing shirts and dresses. I've worn many a shirt made from feed sacks. Burlap sacks had a mulitude of uses but the one I remember best was for fighting grass fires. A five-gallon bucket full of water and a burlap sack were necessities when fires were burning.
Pumping Water - Our house didn't have indoor water and the well was about 70 yards away so my brother and I would have to haul water in our red Flyer wagon to the house. We were fortunate to have a good well and many of our neighbors used it as well. It was not uncommon to see someone drive up to the well and fill up their containers (usually 10 gallon cream cans).
The Milk Cow - Although my Dad was fond of beef cattle, we always had a milk cow at home to provide us with milk and butter. Again, it was my brother's and my task to make sure the cow got milked. Usually we would sit on a stool on the left side of the cow to milk her and her calf would be on the right side taking its half of the bounty. Our first cow was a Jersey named Pet and later we got a Guernsey, Rosa. Having a milk cow is one of those situations where you HAVE to be there twice a day to milk her. If we did, by some chance, go on a trip or a vacation, we had to find someone very reliable to milk the cow.
Selling Eggs and Cream - Because the cow produced an abundance of milk, we were always able to sell the cream we didn't use as well as our extra eggs. After running the milk through the cream separator, we would haul it up to Varnell's store to sell. The eggs were sold to any of our neighbors who didn't happen to have chickens.
The Outhouse - We didn't get running water or a toilet into the house until I was a sophomore in high school. Prior to that, we had to make the trip to the outhouse when needed. Dad had built a "two holer" which we used for many years but I don't recall ever sharing it with someone else. Maybe it was just a status symbol! My brother, Gary, and I did have the responsibility for digging a new hole when the old one was getting full. It was a kind of ritual that we would dig all day and, when Dad came home, he would tell us that it wasn't nearly deep enough. The next day we would finish the job. Dad would then use the tractor to pull the outhouse from the old site to the new one.
Baling and Hauling Hay - Over the years, we put up many thousands of bales of hay. It was hard, nasty work but I don't think we were scarred for life for having done it. In fact, for two summers, Gary and I worked for Sylvester Garrison in Silver City doing custom baling. At the age of 13 and 14 respectively, we would go to Garrison's and live in their house for the hay season.
Saturday Night Baths - We didn't take baths as often then as we do today. Once or twice a week, we would drag the galvanized tub into the living room, fill it with water and take our baths. There were six of us in the family and, by the time the sixth person got to take a bath, the water was milky white. We had to set the tub next to the wood stove in the wintertime to avoid freezing our rear ends off. Our house was not very well insulated (in fact, it had none) and at one point we had to switch to a coal stove because the wood stove wouldn't put out enough heat. This picture is of our house just before we moved into it.
Telephones - We didn't have a telephone for a few years. When my Uncle Dannie died in Utah in 1952, the Trowers, who ran the phone company in Mannford, called our neighbors up on the hill, the Larremores. The Larremores then came down to our house and told us that we needed to go into Mannford and call my grandparents. Later, when we got a phone, it was an eight-party line. You could tell by the ring who the call was for.
There is no way I can imagine what my children would write along this same vein. I'm sure it will sound equally bizarre to their children but that is life!
The Locker or Ice Plant - By the time I came along, we had an electric refrigerator but no freezer. When we butchered a calf, a hog or chickens, we had to rent a locker at the local ice plant to store our meat in. Two or three times a month, we would drive into Sand Springs and get enough meat out of the locker to last until the next trip. The ice plant in Sand Springs was located on south Main Street and I remember it well.
Feed Sacks - All our feed was purchased in 100 pound sacks. Cattle cubes and hog pellets were all in burlap sacks but the chicken feed was in printed pattern material. Mom always had to go to Alfred Hughes' feed store in Mannford with Dad because she had to pick out the sacks she needed for sewing shirts and dresses. I've worn many a shirt made from feed sacks. Burlap sacks had a mulitude of uses but the one I remember best was for fighting grass fires. A five-gallon bucket full of water and a burlap sack were necessities when fires were burning.
Pumping Water - Our house didn't have indoor water and the well was about 70 yards away so my brother and I would have to haul water in our red Flyer wagon to the house. We were fortunate to have a good well and many of our neighbors used it as well. It was not uncommon to see someone drive up to the well and fill up their containers (usually 10 gallon cream cans).
The Milk Cow - Although my Dad was fond of beef cattle, we always had a milk cow at home to provide us with milk and butter. Again, it was my brother's and my task to make sure the cow got milked. Usually we would sit on a stool on the left side of the cow to milk her and her calf would be on the right side taking its half of the bounty. Our first cow was a Jersey named Pet and later we got a Guernsey, Rosa. Having a milk cow is one of those situations where you HAVE to be there twice a day to milk her. If we did, by some chance, go on a trip or a vacation, we had to find someone very reliable to milk the cow.
Selling Eggs and Cream - Because the cow produced an abundance of milk, we were always able to sell the cream we didn't use as well as our extra eggs. After running the milk through the cream separator, we would haul it up to Varnell's store to sell. The eggs were sold to any of our neighbors who didn't happen to have chickens.
The Outhouse - We didn't get running water or a toilet into the house until I was a sophomore in high school. Prior to that, we had to make the trip to the outhouse when needed. Dad had built a "two holer" which we used for many years but I don't recall ever sharing it with someone else. Maybe it was just a status symbol! My brother, Gary, and I did have the responsibility for digging a new hole when the old one was getting full. It was a kind of ritual that we would dig all day and, when Dad came home, he would tell us that it wasn't nearly deep enough. The next day we would finish the job. Dad would then use the tractor to pull the outhouse from the old site to the new one.
Baling and Hauling Hay - Over the years, we put up many thousands of bales of hay. It was hard, nasty work but I don't think we were scarred for life for having done it. In fact, for two summers, Gary and I worked for Sylvester Garrison in Silver City doing custom baling. At the age of 13 and 14 respectively, we would go to Garrison's and live in their house for the hay season.
Saturday Night Baths - We didn't take baths as often then as we do today. Once or twice a week, we would drag the galvanized tub into the living room, fill it with water and take our baths. There were six of us in the family and, by the time the sixth person got to take a bath, the water was milky white. We had to set the tub next to the wood stove in the wintertime to avoid freezing our rear ends off. Our house was not very well insulated (in fact, it had none) and at one point we had to switch to a coal stove because the wood stove wouldn't put out enough heat. This picture is of our house just before we moved into it.
Telephones - We didn't have a telephone for a few years. When my Uncle Dannie died in Utah in 1952, the Trowers, who ran the phone company in Mannford, called our neighbors up on the hill, the Larremores. The Larremores then came down to our house and told us that we needed to go into Mannford and call my grandparents. Later, when we got a phone, it was an eight-party line. You could tell by the ring who the call was for.
There is no way I can imagine what my children would write along this same vein. I'm sure it will sound equally bizarre to their children but that is life!
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Hurricane Katrina
Ten years ago, August 25, 2005, Hurricane Katrina made landfall in the Florida panhandle. It turned and went back into the Gulf of Mexico and returned three days later, on Sunday, August 28. Katrina was one of the deadliest hurricanes in U.S. history, with 1250 people killed and property damage of almost $110 billion.
In 2003, Foster Harness, my brother Gary, several other people and I had made a boat trip down the Arkansas River to the Mississippi. You can read more about that trip in my blog of October 17, 2013. It was one of those trips that, the day you get back, you swear that you will never do again but a week later you're thinking that the trip had been a lot of fun!
Sometime in the summer of 2005, Foster ran into me at the local cafe and suggested that we should make the river trip again. By that time, I had forgotten every one of the negatives of the first trip and I told him that I was all in. The date of Saturday, August 20, was selected as the departure date.
On our first trip, the plan was to leave Tulsa, travel to the mouth of the Arkansas River just north of Greenville, Mississippi, and return. The plan on this trip was to get to the Mississippi, turn south and go all the way to New Orleans. We decided to recruit some more boats to go with us so we began to spread the word about our trip. I had an additional task of trying to find a partner for my boat on the voyage. My son, Dan, needed little encouragement and he as soon involved. Foster also recruited a crew and we were set.
In spite of all our searches for additional boats, we only found one other guy willing to make the journey. He had never done anything like this but he had a boat mate and was anxious to go.
The trip down the Arkansas was largely uneventful except for a couple of events. When we got to Pine Bluff, Arkansas on the third day the marina where we planned to fuel up was closed. Fortunately, there was a gentleman living on a boat in the marina who offered his pickup truck to us to go for fuel.
The evening of the third day was a disaster. We had been sleeping on sand bars and hadn't had any problems. On that evening, however, the mosquitos moved in and viciously attacked us. That was probably the most miserable night I ever spent.
On Tuesday, August 23, we loaded up our gear, went through the last lock on the Arkansas, and headed south on the Mississippi. Because there are no locks on the Mississippi, we anticipated making very good time. Our plan called for my wife, Louise, and my daughter-in-law, Dorinda to meet us in New Orleans with the boat trailer on Thursday, the 25th. We arrived at the marina in Greenville about noon and had a great lunch at their cafe.
By this time, I was beginning to have problems with the starter solenoid on my outboard motor. In spite of this, we took off headed for our next fuel stop in Vicksburg. We arrived there about 2:30 in the afternoon and quickly learned that there was no gasoline to be purchased on the river. We were faced with the prospect of having to hire someone to haul gasoline to our boats. My starter problem was getting worse and I was concerned that it might fail completely.
It was late in the afternoon, we were hot and sweaty, and there was a casino/hotel right up the hill from the ramp which was beckoning to us. Dan and I looked at each other and decided to "pull the plug" on the trip right there. After telling Foster Harness of our decision, we headed for the hotel.
We had been on the river for 3 1/2 days and looked like it. In addition, we didn't smell wonderful. In spite of this, we managed to check into the hotel. I'm not sure I would have rented us a room! We called our wives, told them of our change of plans, and headed to our rooms for a shower. I think Dan took two in thirty minutes!
Later in the evening, after we had had our first decent meal in four days, we went to the casino where I found a blackjack table and parked there. Within a couple of hours I had told the pit boss of our adventure and he liked the story enough that he "comped" us breakfast for the next morning, Wednesday, August 24.
Louise had taken the trip as an opportunity for a family weekend in New Orleans. She and Dorinda were bringing the boat trailer, our Daughter, Rachel, and her then-husband, Mike, were flying in and, of course, Dan was with me. Louise and Dorinda arrived in Vicksburg early on Thursday, we loaded the boat and were off to New Orleans.
When we got to New Orleans, we found a "you store it" place to put the boat, picked up Rachel and Mike at the airport, and headed for the bed and breakfast just outside the French Quarter where we had made reservations.
On Friday, we all got up, had our breakfast, and headed for the Quarter. About this time we began to hear about the hurricane, Katrina, which was in the Gulf. We weren't concerned, though, because it was headed for the Florida Panhandle, not anywhere close to us. Late on Friday, we wound up at Pat O'Brien's and proceeded to drink a few "hurricanes". They were aptly named, I suppose.
We finally got back to the B&B and crashed. The next morning, Saturday, the women got up early and headed back to the Quarter to do some shopping. The guys, including me, were suffering from acute alcohol poisoning (hangovers) and stayed in bed. About 9 a.m., we began to stir and turned on the television. That was when we learned that Katrina had made a left turn and was headed for the Louisiana coast.
This was one of those events where, the longer it goes on, the more panic stricken you become. By about 11 a.m., we decided that we needed to get out of there. It was about that time that we learned a valuable lesson - cell phones become useless in a crisis situation. We were trying to contact the women to tell them we had to leave but could not get through to them. Finally, we got a text message through and they said they would get back to the B&B.
Rachel and Mike had return tickets to Tulsa to leave on Sunday morning. Against our urging, they decided to stay in the city and try to catch their flight. As it turned out, theirs was the last flight out of New Orleans and they beat us home!
We left New Orleans about 2:30 after picking up our boat and headed for Lafayette. Our plan was to take I-10 to Lafayette, then I-49 north to Alexandria. The trip from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, normally about an hour, took us FIVE hours. It was the worst traffic jam I had ever seen. We finally arrived in Alexandria about 11:30 p.m.
Hurricane Katrina came ashore in Louisiana about 3:00 p.m Sunday afternoon. I can't tell you how happy we were to be away from there!
In 2003, Foster Harness, my brother Gary, several other people and I had made a boat trip down the Arkansas River to the Mississippi. You can read more about that trip in my blog of October 17, 2013. It was one of those trips that, the day you get back, you swear that you will never do again but a week later you're thinking that the trip had been a lot of fun!
Sometime in the summer of 2005, Foster ran into me at the local cafe and suggested that we should make the river trip again. By that time, I had forgotten every one of the negatives of the first trip and I told him that I was all in. The date of Saturday, August 20, was selected as the departure date.
On our first trip, the plan was to leave Tulsa, travel to the mouth of the Arkansas River just north of Greenville, Mississippi, and return. The plan on this trip was to get to the Mississippi, turn south and go all the way to New Orleans. We decided to recruit some more boats to go with us so we began to spread the word about our trip. I had an additional task of trying to find a partner for my boat on the voyage. My son, Dan, needed little encouragement and he as soon involved. Foster also recruited a crew and we were set.
In spite of all our searches for additional boats, we only found one other guy willing to make the journey. He had never done anything like this but he had a boat mate and was anxious to go.
The trip down the Arkansas was largely uneventful except for a couple of events. When we got to Pine Bluff, Arkansas on the third day the marina where we planned to fuel up was closed. Fortunately, there was a gentleman living on a boat in the marina who offered his pickup truck to us to go for fuel.
The evening of the third day was a disaster. We had been sleeping on sand bars and hadn't had any problems. On that evening, however, the mosquitos moved in and viciously attacked us. That was probably the most miserable night I ever spent.
On Tuesday, August 23, we loaded up our gear, went through the last lock on the Arkansas, and headed south on the Mississippi. Because there are no locks on the Mississippi, we anticipated making very good time. Our plan called for my wife, Louise, and my daughter-in-law, Dorinda to meet us in New Orleans with the boat trailer on Thursday, the 25th. We arrived at the marina in Greenville about noon and had a great lunch at their cafe.
By this time, I was beginning to have problems with the starter solenoid on my outboard motor. In spite of this, we took off headed for our next fuel stop in Vicksburg. We arrived there about 2:30 in the afternoon and quickly learned that there was no gasoline to be purchased on the river. We were faced with the prospect of having to hire someone to haul gasoline to our boats. My starter problem was getting worse and I was concerned that it might fail completely.
It was late in the afternoon, we were hot and sweaty, and there was a casino/hotel right up the hill from the ramp which was beckoning to us. Dan and I looked at each other and decided to "pull the plug" on the trip right there. After telling Foster Harness of our decision, we headed for the hotel.
We had been on the river for 3 1/2 days and looked like it. In addition, we didn't smell wonderful. In spite of this, we managed to check into the hotel. I'm not sure I would have rented us a room! We called our wives, told them of our change of plans, and headed to our rooms for a shower. I think Dan took two in thirty minutes!
Later in the evening, after we had had our first decent meal in four days, we went to the casino where I found a blackjack table and parked there. Within a couple of hours I had told the pit boss of our adventure and he liked the story enough that he "comped" us breakfast for the next morning, Wednesday, August 24.
Louise had taken the trip as an opportunity for a family weekend in New Orleans. She and Dorinda were bringing the boat trailer, our Daughter, Rachel, and her then-husband, Mike, were flying in and, of course, Dan was with me. Louise and Dorinda arrived in Vicksburg early on Thursday, we loaded the boat and were off to New Orleans.
When we got to New Orleans, we found a "you store it" place to put the boat, picked up Rachel and Mike at the airport, and headed for the bed and breakfast just outside the French Quarter where we had made reservations.
On Friday, we all got up, had our breakfast, and headed for the Quarter. About this time we began to hear about the hurricane, Katrina, which was in the Gulf. We weren't concerned, though, because it was headed for the Florida Panhandle, not anywhere close to us. Late on Friday, we wound up at Pat O'Brien's and proceeded to drink a few "hurricanes". They were aptly named, I suppose.
We finally got back to the B&B and crashed. The next morning, Saturday, the women got up early and headed back to the Quarter to do some shopping. The guys, including me, were suffering from acute alcohol poisoning (hangovers) and stayed in bed. About 9 a.m., we began to stir and turned on the television. That was when we learned that Katrina had made a left turn and was headed for the Louisiana coast.
This was one of those events where, the longer it goes on, the more panic stricken you become. By about 11 a.m., we decided that we needed to get out of there. It was about that time that we learned a valuable lesson - cell phones become useless in a crisis situation. We were trying to contact the women to tell them we had to leave but could not get through to them. Finally, we got a text message through and they said they would get back to the B&B.
Rachel and Mike had return tickets to Tulsa to leave on Sunday morning. Against our urging, they decided to stay in the city and try to catch their flight. As it turned out, theirs was the last flight out of New Orleans and they beat us home!
We left New Orleans about 2:30 after picking up our boat and headed for Lafayette. Our plan was to take I-10 to Lafayette, then I-49 north to Alexandria. The trip from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, normally about an hour, took us FIVE hours. It was the worst traffic jam I had ever seen. We finally arrived in Alexandria about 11:30 p.m.
Hurricane Katrina came ashore in Louisiana about 3:00 p.m Sunday afternoon. I can't tell you how happy we were to be away from there!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)