True Stories That Happened At Grandma's House
Many years ago, when I was a young lad, I took an early mornin'
stagecoach from S/W California, to the S/E Old Indian Territory.
There was a charming young lady that got on in Arizona, going
to see some of her family. I visited with her, until she got off
in Texas. We talked and laughed, as if close brother and sister.
Watching the landmarks and sights, along the scenic road,
she said she was going to see her fiancé, and get married.
As the time and miles clicked away, we smiled, and it
was a very pleasant trip...
Further southeast, as the trail followed along the Rio Grande,
we were in disbelief and saddened, when we saw the cardboard
shacks that people were living in, just across the river in Mexico...
She kindly said goodbye, and got off safely in San Antonio,
with a buggy there waiting for her.
The trail slowly wound on N/E, until I arrived in the big station,
and was changing coaches in Ft Worth. In the back room, I
met a young guy who was also carrying a guitar. After we
spoke greetings, he introduced himself as John Southers,
then he smiled and laid his case up on the sink counter,
to open and reveal the beautiful guitar with pearl
vine inlay all down the neck.
He played a few notes, and did some picking, telling me that
he was headed to spend time with his father J.D. Southers, who
played high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. His dad's boss had
given him the custom made Martin style acoustic, as a gift. We
talked and laughed for a couple of minutes, then quickly
shook hands, and parted to find our coaches,
going in different directions...
On the coach went, twisting and winding up and down
the never ending hills, along ridges, and down into the
heavily wooded canyons, across the rivers and creeks,
of the old Chickasaw and Choctaw lands. Where many
an old Indian and Outlaws had rode, and numerous
armed robberies had apparently taken place, for
many decades before.
As every bend of the road was new to me, it was an
awesome, and exciting new experience, seeing this
new country that my folks were from, alone at 17.
Though enjoying the vast mountainous and ever
rolling green country, I was full of anticipation,
of what all I would see.
I didn't know then, that we were following some of
the same old trails, that so many events had happened along.
In those steep hills, and deep valleys long before, all throughout
some very old times, it seems like now. Then, I had no way of
knowing that soon, I would be taken on my first treasure hunt,
without knowing anything except that we were going fishing..
When the coach got to the way station, it was almost high noon.
I met my grandparents for the first time, and spent some time with
them and dad, at the grandparents place. There were two nice older
houses on the place of about 120 acres, sitting up in the valley far
enough from the Chickasaw Creek bank, to avoid flooding, except
on the worst maybe rare 50-100 yr. floods, it would get close.
The soil, though rocky, was very rich and they always made a
big garden. They had a few good peach trees, though beaver
had cut some branches off of them, and Grandma canned a
lot of fruits and vegetables, and made jellies and pickles, etc.
So it was a very nice, even exceptional country place, living there
up off of that rocky aqua blue-green clear water creek. There at the
foot of those old and worn mountains full of tall pines, and lots of
big hardwood trees alike. I could see there was plenty of open
land, to explore and hunt.
They just used their water right out the creek, and it never
made them sick, that I know of. Though they had an old well
too, with some of the best spring fed deep long water holes,
for many miles around. I knew when I first stepped foot on
the place, there was an old mysterious feeling there.
They had no running water, or indoor bathroom. I soon
realized that my dad's people were hillbillies, and lived
pretty simply. They were good, hard working country
folks from back early after the turn of the 20th Century.
They had been teens, in the early 1920's in that wild old
country, and had known life in the old sawmill camps,
and hill communities they had lived and worked in.
There were the shacks back in the deep woods,
they all survived the hot summers and cold
snowy winters in, back in them early days,
when many acres were acquired by hard
working entrepreneurs, who all did
very well in cattle and lumber...
That summer, they got their new house built,
and I got to help work on it some, but Grandma
still used her old antique electric agitator tub and
ringer wash machine outside, then hung the
clothes out on the new clothesline.
She was in her late 60's, but was in good shape,
and still did whatever she needed or wanted to...
She really liked her chickens, took care of them,
and kept a close eye on them. One morning, I
woke early when I heard her say, "now the
chicken hawks have gotten three more of
my chickens", and she was sounding
pretty upset... So I slipped on my boots,
and went to see what I could do to help her...
... 
sniff
... 
