Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Accidental Blessings
Funny how one thing leads to another. For years, the kids had sent all kinds of Peanuts cards to their Charlie Brown dad, and after our retirement move, I decided to display them on the wall of our bedroom. While hunting through my large collection of memorabilia, I found a card we had received from one of the double-cousins after Mama’s death. It had the addresses of her siblings, and I decided to try contacting them, in case any were still living.
Uncle Dave was Daddy’s oldest brother, Aunt Katy Mama’s oldest sister. Since Mama and Daddy were the youngest in their large families and didn’t marry until in their thirties, most of our first cousins were old enough to have kids our age. Dave and Kate’s family lived at Howe, Texas, near Sherman, too far for regular visits from the Panhandle, so we hardly knew them.
Soon after my search began, a letter came from Cousin Harley saying his mother and one of her sisters were in a nursing home together, the only siblings still living. Through him, I contacted his sister, Olene, and cousin Ellen. Before long, other cousins got my e-mail address and asked for our family history for their genealogy, invited me to a family reunion, and things have been buzzing ever since.
Thank you, thank you, Charlie Brown!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Uncle Dave was Daddy’s oldest brother, Aunt Katy Mama’s oldest sister. Since Mama and Daddy were the youngest in their large families and didn’t marry until in their thirties, most of our first cousins were old enough to have kids our age. Dave and Kate’s family lived at Howe, Texas, near Sherman, too far for regular visits from the Panhandle, so we hardly knew them.
Soon after my search began, a letter came from Cousin Harley saying his mother and one of her sisters were in a nursing home together, the only siblings still living. Through him, I contacted his sister, Olene, and cousin Ellen. Before long, other cousins got my e-mail address and asked for our family history for their genealogy, invited me to a family reunion, and things have been buzzing ever since.
Thank you, thank you, Charlie Brown!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Momentous Birthday
My upcoming 70th birthday reminded me today of the only birthday party I remember having. My friend Raye Nell and I were both born on Aunt Neva Graves’ 48th birthday. She was Daddy’s sister, only five years older than he, but was a big influence in his life, the only mother he ever knew, because their mother died when he was two years old. She was present at my birth, and heated rocks to warm my basket/bed after I was scratched up by forceps the doctor used during delivery. One of her granddaughters was my age, and we spent lots of time at her house through the years. She filled in the empty space in my life that normally would have been occupied by grandparents.
Aunt Neva lived in Flomot, across the road from Raye Nell, for whom she also served as a grandmother. For our 17th birthday, and Aunt Neva’s 65th, we decided to throw ourselves a party. Aunt Neva volunteered to bring the cake, which is the only thing I remember about the event.
When we tried to cut it, the knife would only penetrate the fluffy white coconut icing, and we soon discovered that the “cake” was a tin can! What 17-year-old would expect an old lady of 65 to have such a wonderful sense of humor? Talk about a momentous occasion!
Thanks, Aunt Neva, for all the wonderful memories.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Aunt Neva lived in Flomot, across the road from Raye Nell, for whom she also served as a grandmother. For our 17th birthday, and Aunt Neva’s 65th, we decided to throw ourselves a party. Aunt Neva volunteered to bring the cake, which is the only thing I remember about the event.
When we tried to cut it, the knife would only penetrate the fluffy white coconut icing, and we soon discovered that the “cake” was a tin can! What 17-year-old would expect an old lady of 65 to have such a wonderful sense of humor? Talk about a momentous occasion!
Thanks, Aunt Neva, for all the wonderful memories.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Curiosity
They say “Curiosity killed the cat.” Reckon that rule applies to crazy old grandmothers, too?
When I left the house after lunch, carrying my handy walking stick and a pint of water, there was absolutely nothing on the schedule about a 10-mile trek. The plan was to go to the end of Derek Road, skirt the locked gate and cross a pasture that is now lush with grass, cactus and other wild plants. A circuitous route to the new road on the next hill was my way of mapping out a back-door escape route in case our one exit should some day be cut off by a forest fire.
I thought the very steep road to the south would lead to the new and growing Richland Hills Estates on the other side, with a fancy entry from Frost Road. But before reaching the top, I discovered a sign that said “Private Property” and another even more disturbing: “Beware of Dog.”
Not really needing a third dog bite, I retraced my steps back to a Y in the road and headed west. After finally topping another hill, I met an incoming car. The lady driver stopped, rolled down the window and inquired nicely about my intrusion into her private domain. Not far behind her was a locked gate. Oops!
The gate had no fence, just a few boulders preventing entry of vehicles, no problem to squeeze through. Figuring I had reached a point of no return, and still curious about where this road might lead, onward toward adventure I plodded.
As the road leveled out a bit, houses were closer together, and the barking dogs were well secured behind fences. I did eventually end up at Frost Road, a couple of miles west of the Richland Hills area. Another mile to the Sandia Knolls entry. Maybe I’ll stop at the corner house where Stephen has a fix-it shop, sit awhile, visit the bathroom.
The fancy neighborhood sign has a pile of lichen-covered rocks just the right height for resting a bit, and soon I’m on my way homeward, the last three miles, mostly uphill. This should be the right time of day for some of my friendly neighbors to be returning home. Maybe I’ll catch a ride. Yeah, right!
Meeting oncoming traffic, I’m reminded of one of my pet peeves, people who walk on this narrow pavement, heads down, paying no attention to the cars they meet. I suppose their purpose in walking is to improve their health, and here they are risking life and limb to the chance that every driver is in tip-top form. Wake up, folks! The reason for walking facing traffic is so that you can get off the road when you see a car coming!
Derek Road, one more mile to go. I’ve done a good job conserving my water; now the bottle is empty. Up the last steep hill, I hear a vehicle approaching, and step into the ditch just in time to avoid a water truck that is spraying the road for the new paving project. Welcome to the neighborhood, you guys. No more driving over washboards!
These 70-year-old hips must not be as worn out as I thought. I’m so thankful I don’t have to celebrate my upcoming birthday in a rocking chair. This is the best age yet!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
When I left the house after lunch, carrying my handy walking stick and a pint of water, there was absolutely nothing on the schedule about a 10-mile trek. The plan was to go to the end of Derek Road, skirt the locked gate and cross a pasture that is now lush with grass, cactus and other wild plants. A circuitous route to the new road on the next hill was my way of mapping out a back-door escape route in case our one exit should some day be cut off by a forest fire.
I thought the very steep road to the south would lead to the new and growing Richland Hills Estates on the other side, with a fancy entry from Frost Road. But before reaching the top, I discovered a sign that said “Private Property” and another even more disturbing: “Beware of Dog.”
Not really needing a third dog bite, I retraced my steps back to a Y in the road and headed west. After finally topping another hill, I met an incoming car. The lady driver stopped, rolled down the window and inquired nicely about my intrusion into her private domain. Not far behind her was a locked gate. Oops!
The gate had no fence, just a few boulders preventing entry of vehicles, no problem to squeeze through. Figuring I had reached a point of no return, and still curious about where this road might lead, onward toward adventure I plodded.
As the road leveled out a bit, houses were closer together, and the barking dogs were well secured behind fences. I did eventually end up at Frost Road, a couple of miles west of the Richland Hills area. Another mile to the Sandia Knolls entry. Maybe I’ll stop at the corner house where Stephen has a fix-it shop, sit awhile, visit the bathroom.
The fancy neighborhood sign has a pile of lichen-covered rocks just the right height for resting a bit, and soon I’m on my way homeward, the last three miles, mostly uphill. This should be the right time of day for some of my friendly neighbors to be returning home. Maybe I’ll catch a ride. Yeah, right!
Meeting oncoming traffic, I’m reminded of one of my pet peeves, people who walk on this narrow pavement, heads down, paying no attention to the cars they meet. I suppose their purpose in walking is to improve their health, and here they are risking life and limb to the chance that every driver is in tip-top form. Wake up, folks! The reason for walking facing traffic is so that you can get off the road when you see a car coming!
Derek Road, one more mile to go. I’ve done a good job conserving my water; now the bottle is empty. Up the last steep hill, I hear a vehicle approaching, and step into the ditch just in time to avoid a water truck that is spraying the road for the new paving project. Welcome to the neighborhood, you guys. No more driving over washboards!
These 70-year-old hips must not be as worn out as I thought. I’m so thankful I don’t have to celebrate my upcoming birthday in a rocking chair. This is the best age yet!
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
