The Eldorado Courier

My grandparents and their children moved away from Eldorado, Oklahoma in 1958. Many of our relatives still lived there, so my grandparents had a subscription to The Eldorado Courier (pronounced "Elda-ray-duh Coo-yer") to keep up with the happenings in their hometown. Sometimes Grandmother would include a clipping from the Courier in a letter to Mother when I was growing up.

When I walked into the Eldorado Historical Society Museum the other day, and saw the Courier masthead on the wall, I had my hopes up that I would be able to pore over the archives of the small town newspaper. I love family history and research.

One issue from 1929 was lying on the table. As you can imagine, the pages are very brittle and crumbly. I lifted the first page carefully and just peeked at the next page. I wondered where the other issues were. I hoped they were micro-filmed somewhere.

So I asked Mr. Goodin, the man who had opened the museum for us, if he knew where the archives were for the Courier. He knew exactly where they were. There was a door I hadn't noticed before just under the masthead (in the first picture). The archives are behind the door!

However, due to extreme brittleness of the paper, we wouldn't be able to take them out to look at them-- which is completely understandable. Mr. Goodin didn't know if they had ever been microfilmed or not. One of my cousins said he would try to contact the district library to find out, or to see about having it done.

I hope they are able to be preserved some way. After all, tidbits like this (from 1934) are just priceless...

...even if they did misspell Grandmother Ernesteen's name!

For more posts about vintage treasures visit Vintage Thingie Thursday at Colorado Lady.

The Home Demonstration Club Quilt

As far as I could tell, downtown Eldorado, Oklahoma only has two or three "inhabited" buildings. There is the community building, where we met for our family reunion Labor Day weekend... an apparently current insurance office... and across the street, the historical museum. All the other buildings are vacant.

For such a tiny, dying town, the museum is quite impressive and full of interesting artifacts from the pioneering days of the community. It is open by appointment only, but one of my cousins who lives there made arrangements for the man to open it for us the afternoon of the reunion.

The most exciting discovery (for me) was a quilt made by the Midway Community Home Demonstration Club back in 1934-1935. Each member embroidered her name on a block. It was folded on a quilt rack hanging on the wall. My grandparents lived in the Midway Community (out in the country) when they were teenagers. I remembered reading about the Home Demonstration Club meetings in Grandmother's diary which she kept in 1934 and 1935 as a senior in high school, so I was pretty sure she had worked on this very quilt.

The name showing on the display just happened to be "Liffa Shumaker"-- my great-grandmother.

 Pinned to the quilt, just below Mother Shumaker's block, was a list of the other names on it. "Ernesteen Shumaker" (Grandmother's maiden name) was on that list!

My cousin asked the man if we could possibly take the quilt down and unfold it, so we could see the other names. He kindly consented, and helped us with it.

 Mother recognized quite a few of the names on the quilt, as she was born about 5 or 6 years after this quilt was made, in the Midway Community, and lived there until she was 17.

And sure enough, there was Grandmother's square!

Another square of interest was Aunt Thelma's. She was Granddaddy's sister and also Grandmother's best friend when they were teenagers. She ended up marrying Grandmother's brother, so their children were double cousins with my mother and her siblings.

I love that it was a friendship quilt, so each person's square featured their name in their own handwriting.

I could have easily spent several days in this little building, poring over records and documents from earlier generations.

For more posts about vintage treasures visit Vintage Thingie Thursday at Colorado Lady.

Tater Mountain

When we came to the turn-off for the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge in Oklahoma last Friday, Mother asked, "Do we want to take a detour and drive through there? We have plenty of time."

Uncle Carlton and I responded, "Yes!" in unison.

Mother wasn't quite sure it was the right road. "Yes, it is," Uncle Carlton assured her. "See those mountains off in the distance?"

"Where?" I wondered. I couldn't see any mountains. Oh, wait a minute, yes, I guess there were some hills off yonder.

As we got a little closer we decided to drive up Mount Scott. I vaguely remembered having gone up once when we were through there in the 1970s. The road went around and around. And around. And around some more. We finally got to the top for a view of the lake and the surrounding countryside. At not quite 2,500 feet it didn't seem like much of a mountain to me, but it was fun to drive up it.

"Wait till you see Tater Mountain!" I was told. "Carlton, do you remember Tater Mountain?"

"Of course, I remember Tater Mountain!" he said.

"I guess it's called Tea Cup now," she said. "I don't know when its name was changed."

"Why was it called Tater Mountain?" I wondered.

"Because it was shaped something like a sweet potato," was the reason.

I couldn't wait to see it.

 Later that evening we went for a drive in the countryside surrounding Eldorado (pronounced Elda-ray-duh by the locals). We first approached Tater Mountain from the east, with the sun beginning to set behind it.

 "It's not as big as I remember it being when we were kids," my mother said.

"Well, it's probably not as big," Uncle Carlton mused. "I'm sure the weather has worn it down some, and it looks like whoever put that fence on it carved some of it off."

So the shape changed, and they changed the name to Tea Cup? I dunno. If you squint at it just right you can sorta make out the original shape of a sweet potato... and now a tea cup. I guess.

It's probably hard to tell the size of it from the pictures, but just to give you an idea, the whole thing is just slightly larger than my house.

It does create a distinctive landmark from about a mile away.

And so, 60 years ago, it was known as Tater Mountain.

Labor Day Weekend

I had intended to micro-blog all weekend so my family (at least) could follow along with my adventures. But "the best-laid plans of mice and men..." and all that. I hadn't realized there wouldn't be a very good cell signal in the remote little corner of south-western Oklahoma where i spent the better part of the weekend. I did have a wonderful time reconnecting with my extended family, appreciating once again the very special heritage I have, and realizing what a blessing it is to be descended from "good people."

My dad let me "adopt" his DSLR camera for the weekend. As I snapped hundreds of pictures of the desolate landscape and the various clusters of scrubby mesquite trees where this-relative-or-that's farm "used to be" I wondered what it was that drew my ancestors to the area to start with.

I have more to share (with pictures) later. I'm on my way home now, watching the sunset from the Denver airport. Thank you, Mother and Uncle Carlton for being my tour guides this week-end.

Tally of Relatives in Attendance (as they are related to me... not counting in-laws)

Mother - 1
Uncle - 1
Aunt - 1
Great-uncles - 3
First cousin -1
First cousins once-removed - 9
First cousins twice-removed - 2
Second cousins - 5
Second cousins once-removed - 6

And that was just a small representation of my extended family that I am personally acquainted with. I think that's kinda impressive.

Blue Moon

The blue moon rising over Great-Aunt Kathryn's house, near Eldorado, Oklahoma last night. Granddaddy built this house in 1950.

Granddaddy's Barn

 Once upon a time a path led from the driveway along the edge of the garden to the barn where the hens lived. Red-the-cow and the nanny goats congregated there morning and evening to be fed and milked. We called tending the livestock "the chores." Usually the teenage uncles were responsible for doing the chores. We little nieces and nephews considered it a privilege to get to help occasionally. It was fun to scoop out a portion of grain or to reach into a hen box and pick up a warm, freshly laid egg to add to the bucket.


The years went by, as years are wont to do. Old Red died. The uncles grew up and went off to college. The rest of us lived other places. Granddaddy's "herd" of livestock gradually grew smaller and smaller, until finally there were none.

The barn is abandoned now, and while my dad gives it a fresh coat of paint every now and then to keep it looking nice, mostly it serves as storage for no-longer-useful-or-needed implements. The used-to-be garden and once busy path are now covered over with neatly mowed grass.

The farm is no longer very productive, but it holds countless memories for the generation of children who once ran barefoot all over the hillside. What a wonderful way to begin life's many adventures.

Priceless Heirlooms

This past week I've been updating a genealogy book I compiled about 10 years ago, at the request of my great-aunt who wants it for a family reunion in a couple of weeks. It had been awhile since I had taken time to work on genealogy, and I always enjoy it, so that was a fun diversion from some of the other projects that have been consuming my time lately.

One thing I added was pictures of headstones for various ancestors that I found at the very fascinating www.findagrave.com site. When I came across the headstone for my great-great-great-grandmother, Lucinda Catherine Ratterree Bock, I broke out in goose pimples. In order to explain why, I want to rerun a blog post from Mother's Day 2009, then I'll show you her headstone.

*****

"100 years from now it will not matter what my bank account was,
the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...
but the world may be a better place
because I was important in the life of a child."

Four Generations- July 1967.
The pensive tot in the center is 19-month-old Little Karla.
My mother, Pallie Sue Ezell, is behind me holding me up.
Great-grand Mother Shumaker is on the left holding Baby Sister Naomi.
Grandmother Ernesteen Easley is on the right holding Baby Sister Dorcas.

My sisters and I are mothers of growing families now. Our mother is the "grandmother"... and Grandmother and Mother Shumaker are in Heaven.

Four Generations- August 1922.
The thoughtful little tot in this picture is Grandmother Ernesteen Easley.
Behind her is her mother, great grandmother Liffa Shumaker.
Beside Mother Shumaker is her mother, Martha Maberry, my great-great grandmother.
And seated is Mama 'Berry's mother, my great-great-great grandmother, Lucinda Bock.

I suspect the world is a better place today because each of these ladies was important in the lives of her children!

Her children rise up and call her blessed...
Proverbs 31.28

*****

And here is Great-Great-Great Grandmother's headstone from 1929:

Do you see the epitaph?

"SHE PRAYED FOR HER CHILDREN"

I wonder if it ever crossed her mind that her influence would reach across so many generations?

May I follow her example.

It's a Twin birthday!

See the babies in the box? They are my twin sisters. That's our sweet Mother feeding them ice cream. Actually, she's feeding Naomi ice cream. I expect she alternated mouths with each spoonful, because Dori doesn't exactly look like she's suffering from lack of ice cream, does she? That's me in the red dress behind them. (And Uncle Cecil in the chair, if you wondered.)

The twins are about a year old in this picture. I don't know if it was their birthday the day this picture was taken... but today is their birthday! I won't tell you how old they are, but the picture was taken in 1968, so you can do the math. ;-)

Happy birthday, Dori and Naomi!

Remembering...

Maybe it's a little strange, but I like to visit cemeteries. I don't mean to be morbid. I just think it's nice that we have a tradition in our culture of erecting permanent monuments in tribute to our loved ones who have gone before us. Even when I don't know the people I am fascinated to read their headstones, wondering what their lives were like.

Last week, when we were in Arkansas, I asked my husband if he would mind taking me out to the cemetery where my dear grandparents are buried. This was the first time I had been in the area since Granddaddy passed away almost 3 years ago, and I wanted to put flowers on their grave.

It's a remote little cemetery back on a dirt road in the Ozarks, not far from where my grandparents lived and ministered for more than 40 years. It was a foggy, frosty day so no one else was around. I enjoyed the stillness as I reflected on the Godly heritage my grandparents have left me and their many other descendants.

Today is Grandmother's 93rd birthday. She's been gone 11 1/2 years, but her influence on my life is as fresh as if she were still with us. As I strolled around their old home place (now my parents' home) those few days last week, I could almost hear her asking the children to help her out with a "little job"... or interestedly inquiring after the neighbors in the area... or praying fervently for various ones in the family...

When I grow up I'd like to be just like Grandmother!

The Wood Cook Stove

Last week I hosted a giveaway for a copy of my family cookbook. Annette @ The Ward House commented on the cover picture.  She said it looks almost exactly like the stove they currently use. So I decided to tell the story of "our" stove.

About 45 years ago my grandparents moved to the Ozarks. At that time, they heated with wood. I'm pretty sure they didn't actually cook with wood, too. At least, not most of the time. After all, this was the mid-1960s... not the 1800s! But they found this lovely antique "wood cook stove" at a second-hand place and bought it for $20!

When Granddaddy got ready to build their house, he designed the kitchen around it with a native-stone alcove for it to sit in. The opposite side of wall has a beautiful stone fireplace which they also used for heat. Many times they would build a small fire in the "cook stove" when they just wanted a little warmth on a chilly spring morning, but didn't need a big fire to heat the whole house. To my knowledge, Grandmother didn't use the stove for her main cooking, but she did keep a kettle of water on top and would sometimes use the oven for making cornbread or biscuits when the electric range had something else in the oven.

One year, after I was married, we were there for Thanksgiving or Christmas. The power went out and I remember they finished cooking the turkey in the wood stove. It made me realize how handy it is to have equipment that doesn't rely on electricity or technology to operate. We love our modern conveniences, but when they are down we have major problems.

My grandparents are gone to Heaven now. My parents currently live in the house that Granddaddy built, and the "wood cook stove" is still in it's alcove. One of my uncles inherited the stove, but for now he has chosen to leave it where it is. Mother and Dad still build a little fire in it when they want to warm up the kitchen on a chilly morning.

Not very many things in my life are exactly where they have been as long as I can remember. The years bring so many changes. It's just part of life. But sometimes I take comfort in things that haven't changed.

And now for the winner of my cookbook... It goes to Sara @ RyanSaraNCora! Congratulations, Sara! Email me with your mailing address and I'll get your cookbook out to you.

If anyone else is interested, I do still have a few cookbooks left for sale. I am offering them for $10 each, or two-for-$15, postage-paid.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

This is one of my favorite family pictures from my babyhood, even though the sun was too bright and the photographer managed to cut off the top of Daddy's head. I just love how Mother is snuggled up against Dad with chubby little me cuddled in her arms. This was during the few short months that I was an only child! (My twin sisters came along when I was 19 months old, followed closely by two little brothers.)

I read a quote somewhere once that says, "The greatest gift a father can give his children is to love their mother." My siblings and I agree that we are so blessed to have such a precious gift-- our parents still adore each other. And they love their children. In a generation where many older dads don't verbally express their love, mine does! Nearly every time I talk to him, he reminds me, "You know I love you, don't you?"

I love you, too, Dad! Hope you have a great birthday!

Evening Photography

We were in McCall, Idaho for the holiday weekend. We went to the lake to see the fireworks on the 4th of July. It was fun to experiment with some of the settings on our camera that evening.

The "sunset light" setting worked great for pictures of the actual sunset on the lake...
It didn't do so well for close-up pictures...
Then I changed to the "fireworks" setting and handed the camera to Lyle. His hands are steadier than mine.
I thought it was neat how it captured the fireworks with squiggly lines!
Of course, this is not what they actually looked like.
But I like the pictures anyway!
These 2 (above and below) are my favorites.

In other news, I have received word this week that my grandmother will be going to Heaven soon. My daughters and I are going to fly to Louisiana tomorrow night. I don't know if we'll get there before she slips away, but either way I just felt like I wanted to go be with my Dad at this time.

As I was posting the sunset and fireworks pictures just now I couldn't help but think about a song one of my uncles shared at my grandfather's funeral in 2007:

As I wander today, 'neath the setting sun,
I dream of the days long ago.
And it seems I was traveling home once more
with loved ones I used to know.

At sundown--I'm going home.
At sundown--no more to roam.
Sweet voices are calling, calling me
and I'm going home at sundown.

Now the sun of my life is sinking low
And my steps quicker grow as before
For my loved ones I know are waiting now
To welcome me home once more.

At sundown--I'm going home.
At sundown--no more to roam.
Sweet voices are calling, calling me
and I'm going home at sundown.

It's such a bittersweet time of parting and celebration... letting a loved one go. Kinda like watching the sun go down, and then rejoicing to see the sky explode with a riot of glorious colors.

There's a birthday on A Romantic Porch!

Last week when I told about picking Mayflowers with Rachel, Tatting Chic commented: "What a sweet story! I didn't know that Rachel from A Romantic Porch was your Auntie!!! How sweet! :)"

Yes... she's my "auntie"... and today is her birthday! Last year for her birthday I posted a picture taken the same day this one was:
The other one is a better pose, but the resolution is sharper on this one.

I wonder what we were looking at?

Don't you love Rachel's curls?

Oh! And lest the antique buggy make you think we are older than we really are. No. It was antique then! The picture was taken in 1966.

Six Generations of Motherhood

"100 years from now it will not matter what my bank account was,
the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...
but the world may be a better place
because I was important in the life of a child."

Four Generations- July 1967.
The pensive tot in the center is 19-month-old Little Karla.
My mother, Pallie Sue Ezell, is behind me holding me up.
Great-grand Mother Shumaker is on the left holding Baby Sister Naomi.
Grandmother Ernesteen Easley is on the right holding Baby Sister Dorcas.

My sisters and I are mothers of growing families now. Our mother is the "grandmother"... and Grandmother and Mother Shumaker are in Heaven.

Four Generations- August 1922.
The thoughtful little tot in this picture is Grandmother Ernesteen Easley.
Behind her is her mother, great grandmother Liffa Shumaker.
Beside Mother Shumaker is her mother, Martha Maberry, my great-great grandmother.
And seated is Mama 'Berry's mother, my great-great-great grandmother, Lucinda Bock.

I suspect the world is a better place today because each of these ladies was important in the lives of her children!

Her children rise up and call her blessed...
Proverbs 31.28

Strawberry Season

I love strawberries! Every spring when they come in season, I think of my MawMaw. She is 89 now, but for years she was a 'berry packer each spring in the strawberry fields of southern Louisiana.
One day last week my uncle took her this carrier of fresh 'berries that he had picked for her that morning. I love how the green of her shirt perfectly matches the 'berry tops and sets of her snowy white hair. Isn't it a beautiful picture?

I remember once, when I was a little girl, I got to go to the 'berry field with MawMaw. I can't remember what I did that day, other than wander around watching the proceedings, but MawMaw worked in the packing shed with several other women, sorting the perfect berries from the "culls". Some of the culls, of course, were rotten, but many of them were simply shaped funny, or too small, or something like that. And the 'berry packers got to take the culls home! We enjoyed all the fresh 'berries we wanted, and the rest we made into jam or froze.

Just looking at the pictures makes my mouth water! I wonder if the price of 'berries has come down for the season around here yet?

A Birth Announcement

Thank you, Mother and Dad!
I'm glad God chose you to be my parents!

The Great Depression

I wonder what it was really like to live through the Great Depression. Oh, yes, I've read about it... seen movies about it... heard my grandparents talk about it... but truthfully, I have no concept of what that would be like.

As I've been going about my daily routine the last few days I've been wondering... Would it save money to hang the laundry out to dry on a clothesline rather than putting it in the dryer? What about growing a garden? Is that really cheaper than grocery shopping? And I know sewing my own clothes is not cheaper than buying them ready-made, the way it used to be.

Our grandparents had to work very hard for all those daily necessities we take for granted. Sure, we work to pay for the things we have. At least most of us do. But I honestly don't think we work like they did!

My grandparents, as a young married couple, lived in a tent most of one year around 1940. Not because they were down on their luck, but because that was part of their business. Granddaddy and some of his relatives had a sheep company, and so they lived out in the field and took care of the sheep that year.
I have heard lots of stories about that experience in their lives, but I never heard them complain about it. It seemed to be just an exciting adventure that they remembered fondly.
Makes me wonder if I'm too accustomed to the "finer things in life" to adjust to living like that if I had to.
I like to think I could, if worse came to worst, but I just don't know.

Could you?

Heritage

I've been reading recently in the book of Joshua, and this past week the story of Rahab caught my attention. It's a familiar story... of how the harlot Rahab protected the Israelite spies and then was spared when the city of Jericho was destroyed. She went on to become a respected member of Israelite society, marrying a man named Salmon. We know she ended up being a great-grandmother (several generations back) of Jesus, and she is mentioned in the "Faith Hall of Fame" chapter of Hebrews 11. What a transformation in her life to go from being a harlot to these prestigious honors!

But something else struck me this time, as well. I had never considered before what kind of mother Rahab must have been. She was the mother of Boaz in the book of Ruth. Remember what an honorable man of integrity he was? He was so gracious and kind to Ruth and Naomi. Then, of course, Boaz and Ruth were parents to Obed, the father of Jesse, the father of King David, who was "a man after God's own heart."

Genealogies are fascinating to me, particularly when you can trace the influence of a godly heritage from one generation to the next. When it comes right down to it, though, genealogy is just an interesting hobby. It doesn't matter to God who my ancestors were, but rather what I have done with the opportunities He has given me.

We're pilgrims on the journey
Of the narrow road
And those who've gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who've gone before us
Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
--Steve Green

Another new blogger...

Please welcome my aunt Aliene to the blogosphere! She is my dad's older sister and she has some fascinating stories and keepsakes to share. Her blog is called Meditations and Memories. Pop by to say "hi" and let her know I sent you!

Speaking of aunts (and uncles) , I have quite a few, as my mother is one of 10 children and Dad is one of 6. Mother's parents had 5 girls and 5 boys, and Dad's parents had 3 girls and 3 boys. Isn't that nice and symmetrical?

Other fun bits of trivia:

• We use the titles "aunt" and "uncle" in front of the first name in my family. I think it might be a southern thing. (Or maybe it's just us. I dunno.) The only exception to the "rule" when I was a little girl was for my youngest aunt, Rachel, who is only a year older than I am. As an adult, I no longer use the title for my next older aunt and uncle who are within 10 years of my age. But all the rest, I still do.
  
• On Mother's side of the family "aunt" is pronounced "ant"... on Dad's side we say "aint"! (Nobody I know says "ont"!)
  
• Dad's side of the family enjoys nicknames, so his sisters Aliene, Annette, and Dianne are Aunt Lene, Aunt Nette, and Aunt DeeDee.
• Two of Dad's sisters married two of Mother's brothers, so I have two sets of double cousins.
  
• Of all my aunts, only my youngest (Rachel) and my oldest (Aunt Lene) have blogs. I think that situation ought to be remedied post-haste, don't you?
  

Mothers Day

"100 years from now it will not matter what my bank account was,
the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...
but the world may be a better place
because I was important in the life of a child."

I've been sorting through some old family pictures and when I came across this one last night, I immediately thought of this quote. This is a 4-generation picture taken in 1922. The little girl is my grandmother who went to Heaven in 1998. Behind her is her mother, my great-grandmother... and then, of course, my great-great-grandmother... and seated is my great-great-great-grandmother! (It was her 75th birthday.) In the family they are affectionately known as: Grandmother, Mother Shumaker, Mama 'Berry, and Grandma Bock. I'm too young to have known Mama 'Berry and Grandma Bock, but I was blessed to know Mother Shumaker (my great-grandmother) who died when I was 16. Based on the kind of women Mother Shumaker and Grandmother were, and with my own beautiful mother continuing the tradition... I have to think that my world is a better place because each one of these women were important in the lives of their children.

Lord, help me be that kind of mother!