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Roots and Limbs

Christina tells about her extended family

My side of the family is rather simple. My parents remained married to one another until my father died in 2004. I have a full sister, as well as two half siblings from my father’s first marriage. While there are my father’s siblings and their children, my mother, my sister and her family are basically it for me.

The extended family attributed to the husband is quite a complex set of relationships. The husband’s parents divorced when he was in his early twenties and each remarried. Thus, I have a father-in-law and step-mother-in-law, as well as her two children and their children. On the other side, I had a mother-in-law, a father-in-law, and his two sons and their children.

The husband also has two sisters from his parents’ marriage.

I started looking at my “family” and saw that it was as screwed up as it can be.

My Dad was married before he married my Mother, and he had 2 sons and divorced their mother when they were both very young, this bought out the anger in his first wife that the 2 boys grew up not knowing their real last names until she had to confess to them when they had to register for the draft. They then started going by our last name.

My Dad and Mother got divorced just after WW2, with me being the only child.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 2 half brothers.

My Mother then remarried later and that marriage resulted in 1 girl and 1 boy.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers.

My Mother and Step-Dad divorce.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers.

I got married and had 2 Sons.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers. 1 wife, 2 sons, 1 mother-in-law, 1 father-in-law, 2 brother-in-laws.

I got divorced and later remarried and had 1 son and 1 daughter.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers. 1 wife, 3 sons, 1 daughter,1 mother-in-law, 1 father-in-law, 3 sister-in-laws, 1 brother-in-law, 1 ex-wife,1 ex-mother-in-law, 1 ex-father-in-law, 2 ex- brother-in-laws.

My half sister gets married.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers. 1 wife, 3 sons, 1 daughter, 1 mother-in-law, 1 father-in-law, 3 sister-in-laws, 2 brother-in-laws, 1 ex-wife, 1 ex-mother-in-law, 1 ex-father-in-law, 2 ex- brother-in-laws.

My half brother gets married and has 3 daughters.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers. 1 wife, 3 sons, 1 daughter, 1 mother-in-law, 1 father-in-law, 4 sister-in-laws, 1 brother-in-law, 3 nieces, 1 ex-wife, 1 ex-mother-in-law, 1 ex-father-in-law, 2 ex- brother-in-laws.

I got divorced and still single.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers, 3 sons and 1 daughter and 2 ex-wifes, 2 ex-father-in-laws, 2 ex-mother-in-laws, 3 ex-brother-in-laws, 3 ex-sister-in-laws.

My oldest son married and had 2 daughters, the divorced and remarried and had 1 son and 2 daughters.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers, 3 sons and 1 daughter, 1 daughter-in-law, 1 ex-daughter-in-law, 1 grandson, 4 grand-daughters, 1 brother-in-law, 1 sister-in-law, 3 nieces, and 2 ex-wifes, 2 ex-father-in-laws, 2 ex-mother-in-laws, 3 ex-brother-in-laws, 3 ex-sister-in-laws.

My 3rd oldest son gets married, he has a wife and a step-son.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3
half brothers, 3 sons and 1 daughter, 2 daughter-in-laws, 1 ex-daughter-in-law, 1 grandson, 1 step-grandson, 4 grand-daughters 1 brother-in-law, 1 sister-in-law, 3 nieces, and 2 ex-wifes, 2 ex-father-in-laws, 2 ex-mother-in-laws, 3 ex-brother-in-laws, 3 ex-sister-in-laws.

My youngest marries and she has 2 sons.

My Family: Dad, Mom, Me, 1 ex-Step-Dad, 1 half sister, 3 half brothers, 3 sons and 1 daughter, 1 son-in-law, 2 daughter-in-laws, 1 ex-daughter-in-law, 3 grandsons, 1 step-grandson, 4 grand-daughters 1 brother-in-law, 1 sister-in-law, 3 nieces, and 2 ex-wifes, 2 ex-father-in-laws, 2 ex-mother-in-laws, 3 ex-brother-in-laws, 3 ex-sister-in-laws.

I have a lot of roots and limbs…

My Dad was the oldest of 15, 11 boys and 4 girls
My Mom had 3 sisters and 1 brother,
So I had 12 uncles and 7 aunts and wound up with 41 cousins.
I am the 4th oldest of the 41…

I apologize to anyone I omitted..

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October 17, 2006 Posted in: Long Ago Add Your Comment

I should have been a cowboy

Back in January of 1959, I had gone from Texas to Oklahoma to visit some of my relatives as I had not seen them since we left Oklahoma.I was between jobs,(ie not working), and while there my uncle by marriage to my mothers sister had came down from Wyoming for some reason that I forgot, anyway he and I got to talking about my aunt and cousins who I had not seen in a long long time and the more we talked I started to get the crazy notion I wanted to see them. So I asked him if it would be ok with him if I want back to Wyoming with him and stay for a couple of weeks which said ok. Now one reason I wanted to go and see everyone was he and my aunt had kinda somewhat raised me off and on when I was a kid.

My aunt and uncle were living in Newcastle, which is in the ne corner of Wyoming and not to far from Devils Tower or The Black Hills, and a long drive from Oklahoma when the Internet Highways were not that compleated yet. We loaded up and headed north very early one morning (before dark thirty) and set off in a northerly direction, and the farther north we got, the weather decided to welcome me by letting me know what cold was. We made it with out any flats, whiteouts or any other trip mucker uppers.

It was nice to see my aunt and 2 cousins, who both were younger then me, we had a lot of catching up to do. One day my uncle asked me if I wanted to go to work with him and I said ok lets go, he was a superintendent for a pipeline company and was going to visit one of the pumping stations west of town.

After we arrived at the pumping station one of the employees told my uncle that he would have to take some time off as one of the ranch hands (cowboy) had up and quit on his dad, who was around 75, and left only one ranch hand to feed the cattle. He didn’t want his dad out in the weather flinging bales of hay off the back of a truck, he said his dad just did not have the strength and stamina to do that day in and day out.

This conservation went on few a few minutes and then I got this brilliant idea that I would volunteer to go help his dad until they hired someone fulltime. This is where I made my first mistake, as I did not consider that it was January and that it got cold and snowed a lot like days on end. The other mistake was not understanding that no one (ranch hands) was looking for a slot during the winter, as those who could do the work and not found a job back in the fall had left for a warmer climate. The ranchers son said he would talk to his dad and see if that was ok with him then call and let me know when and where to go.
After a few days he called and gave directions to the ranch. Now there is one thing to remember, if you are from a warm climate and head north in the winter, take a down parka as it gets cold enough to freeze the b**ls of a brass monkey. My uncle took pity on me and loaned me one of his old parkas to protect my fragile metabolism for any permant damage, he was a good guy.

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So on saturday off we go to the ranch, which was about 10 miles off the highway, winding thru gentle rolling hills with scattered aspen and pine trees, just like some of the scenes from the movie Jeremiah Johnson. We arrived at the entrance to the ranch and then went around 2 miles to compound which consisted of the ranchers house, 2 large barns, an open but covered building where all the equipment was stored and last but not least the famous bunkhouse where I would make my temporary home for a few weeks. After all the introductions were made my uncle left and the rancher (referred to later as George) took me to the bunkhouse and showed me which corner was mine an
d then we went to the main house and I was introduced to his wife (referred to later as Gracie).
We sat down with coffee and George begin to tell me about how he became a rancher over 50 years ago by filing a homestead on the property where his ranch house set. It was an interesting story that covered the joys of a young couple building their life that they had dreamed of and also with the disappointing setbacks that occur in life. Here I was, a young male who knew about hardships from the stories my grand parents had told over the years, hearing it first hand as I sat there soaking it all in with wonder and asking how they got thru it at all.

George was what you would expect from a man who had worked hard out doors, by his tanned and weathered face that left no doubt that he had done all he said, looking back and trying to recall what he looked liked I find that his face has departed from my memory. He was not a big man maybe around 5′ 8″ and about 180lbs, with calloused hands and a small grin that surfaced when something funny to him happened.

Gracie was a lot like my mothers mother, a small bundle of energy that begin her day around 4:30 in the morning and lasted until near 10:30 at night. She was in charge of the menus, her garden and flower beds which she tended with much attention and care. She told me that breakfast was served at 6:30 and if I was not there then I would have to wait until noon to get anything to eat, to which I replied “Yes mam” because I knew which side my bread was buttered on.

Now I was paid somewhere around $75.00 a month and was provided 3 home cooked meals and did not have to do any laundry. I know this does not sound like much but when I got back to Houston I got a job that paid $325.00 per month and thought I was living in high cotton, things easier then and I didn’t want for anything.

I can not remember the ranch hands name, who was there so I will call him “Curly” to give you a hint at what his personality was like, but he was kinda glad to see me so he wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting. What we had to do each day was feed a damn bunch of cattle, mostly herfords, a whole lot of hay which had to be loaded on an old Dodge Power Wagon truck from one of the big storage barns. If you don’t know a bale of hay when dry would weigh between 40 to 60 lbs when dry, now consider that we would load that power wagon with about 48 bales, which made us look like the Beverly Hillbillies, going down the highway to the south part of the ranch.

The ranch was about 24,000 acres, which around 10,000 was leased to George which was near 20 miles to the south and we had to drive there loaded with hay no matter what the weather was. There was a winch mounted on the front of the truck as it was needed some time when the weather warmed and the low crossings got soft and were almost impossible to cross. When we got to where the cattle were and they saw the mound of hay coming across the range the started moving our way fast as they had burned up all the energy from the day before and needed the hay to survive as they could not graze as they normally do because the grass was under about a foot of snow and cows are stupid and don’t know how to paw or scrape away the snow to get to any thing to chew on.

We would drive along with me on top of the hay, with a hatchet in hand to cut the wire that held the bale together, serving the cattle their daily ration of what looked like “Shredded Wheat” to me but they they were not picky just hungry. After we got thru we had to go back to the ranch, eat lunch and load up again and feed the cattle on the main ranch and try to get done before dark. Needless to say I was worn out after the first day and it took about 2 weeks before I got use to all the lifting, chucking those hale bales which sometimes was done during heavy snow, but then I got good enough to have Curly to stop ragging on my “City Boy Ass”. After about a month he kinda accepted me and started to tell me a little about his life. He was near 60 but didn’t look it, guess he had good genes or
something, and he had been on the ranch for about 10 years and called it his home where he would stay until his time was up.

One of the things I liked best was Gracies cooking, she could make a meal that even a 5 yr old would eat. I was surprised to discover that our “Chicken” dishes were “pheasant” as most of the meat was either pheasant or “venison”. When the freezer got low, George would take me with him after dark and we would drive in his WWII jeep to a small pasture where he had some bales of hay scattered about, he said that the deer would starve if he didn’t feed them and he and Gracie would not have had very much meat to eat if it was not for the deer, he said they were “my deer” and he would shoot one when needed even if it was out of hunting season. They way we would get a deer was to back the jeep into a small cut in the road facing the hay bales and wait for the deer to come out of the woods to feed, you could see their shapes because of all the snow, when there was around 15 or 20 deer eating the hay, he would raise the front window so I could pick out a shape and when I was ready he would flip on his spotlight and I would fire away , then we went back and dressed out the deer and put in in the freezer. While I was there did this a couple of times, but it was trying to shoot a pheasant that I kicked up which made me jump and they were going every where, I did not last long as he said it cost him to many shotgun shells per bird and if I didn’t improve he would deduct the cost of a box of shells out of my wages.

I celebrated my 21st birthday in March there and in April they hired a permanent hand and I said my good byes. That was one of the better times in my life and I enjoyed every minute.

Note: This reperesents that period of time to the best I can recall.

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August 11, 2006 Posted in: Long Ago Add Your Comment

Another stupid kid

This photo of me was taken at my uncle’s rural grocery store in Oklahoma. He sold groceries, feed, seeds and gas as you can see from the gravity gas pump behind me.
I would play in his small warehouse where he kept his feed and other items. It was fun climbing over the 50 and 100 pound sacks and hiding from my uncle when he came looking for me.
Now comes the reason for the title “Another stupid kid“, as you must know if you are a parent kids will do something stupid which I did in spades.
One day when I was playing with my sling shot, which I loaded with dried pinto beans to shoot at rats, I decided to put a bean up my nose. This was an experiment to see what it would feel like, but with any 4 year olds plan there was not much thought given to the consequences of such action I went ahead. Needless to say that after about 30 minutes, when I decided it was time to remove the bean, I could not get it out. I struggled for the rest of the day trying to get it out of my nose to no avail, so I went to bed.

The next day lo and behold it was still there, scared to tell my uncle or aunt what I had done I decided that as time passed all would come to a good end. I don’t know how long I went around like this, but one day my aunt said to me “Whats that green thing growing out of your nose?”. So my standard answer to any question that I felt like might get me in trouble, I said “I don’t know”.
My aunt looked and started laughing and called my uncle and he also laughed, then they removed the sprouting bean from my nose.
For many years I was embarrassed when any of my family told this story.

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August 3, 2006 Posted in: Long Ago Add Your Comment

do I know you?

One day, back in 1960 or 61, I was in downtown Houston walking on main street and while looking at the faces of people coming towards me as most people do, I saw in the distance a girl heading my way. I kept looking at her as she drew near, saying to my self, where do I know her from?.

We passed each other and I was still racking my brain trying to place her, so being the sneaky devil I was I did an about face and proceeded to follow her at a discrete distance.

This went for on for about 4 blocks or so as I became obsessed with getting to the bottom of who she was. Finally she stopped and looked in the window at Foleys, I reached down in side of me to get the courage to walk to to her and say “I saw you pass me a few blocks back and have been following you trying to figure out where I know you from“, so I did and her reply was “I am not from Houston”.

I replied with as much coolness as I could muster and asked “where did you go to school” and she replied “Stillwater“, to my self I said “aha that’s it” and then asked her if she went to the junior high school and she said “no OSU“.

Not to be defeated in my obsession to find out who this girl was, I asked “where she was from” and she replied Caney Kansas.

To which I replied Rosalie *******, and she said yes while looking at me kinda funny. I said “it’s me Jerry ******“.
She stared at me for the longest and then smiled as she did remembered me. We both stared at each other for a minute and we both broke out in big smiles and hugged each other.

Now as Paul Harvey would say now the rest of the story.

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July 11, 2006 Posted in: Long Ago Add Your Comment

Cherry Picking

There has been a few bloggers talking about the jobs they have had, as an ~~old guy~~ mature male, I had been thinking about doing that same thing as I have had a wide variety of jobs in the past. This post is about one of those, as it was in my youth and one that was an adventure for a trio of teenagers from Breaux Bridge LA.

In the 50′s kids did not have much to do and there were not any burger joints to work at. One day me and some other ~~idiots~~ mature teenagers were talking about trying to find a job to make some spending money. One asked if we had looked in the paper, I said no , but we pooled our resources and bought a paper. Looking thru the 20 or so job listings we spied one that said “Wanted cherry pickers”, to which we responded “sounds like fun”.

We called the number and about 6 of us met with the man who had a contract with the cherry orchards to supply ~~migrant workers~~ pickers for their orchards. The deal was that he would provide transportation to Sister Bay WI and while there food and lodging, and as we were all minors we would have to get our parents permission, and be ready to leave in 10 days. We all decided that we would go and get our parents permission for this endeavor, sadly there were only 3 whose parents ~~evidently wanted to get rid of them for the summer~~ allowed their ~~responsible~~ sons to embark on this great adventure.
I was given $10.00 to tide me over until the cash started flowing in (that’s a lot of money in the 50′s).

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We were to meet in Lafayette for the trip north, when we arrived there was this school bus type vehicle that was our mode of transportation (circa late 40′s model). We loaded up, and met 2 others that had signed up, and left around 9:00 am on a journey of over 1230 miles. This journey took over 5 days with no air conditioning or comfortable seats.

When we finally arrived in Sister bay and unloaded, where we would be ~~domiciled~~ sleeping in the loft of a barn, all were ~~excited~~ relieved to be off the bus. We were ~~given the grand tour~~ shown where we would bunk, the shower and the dining room and every one grabbed a ~~bed~~ WW1 surplus metal cot and unpacked. We jumped on the 3 at the back of the loft, reason for this was that men were in the loft and the women, along with married couples, were in converted stalls just below our bunks. Our logic was with the cracks in the floor we could ~~spy, watch~~ look at the gals below us when we were ~~bored~~ had an attack of raging hormones, which was anytime the girls were in their ~~rooms~~ stalls.

We would be charged $3.50 per day for ~~room and board~~ our marquis de sade cots and prison meals, to pay for this they would deduct it from your earnings which were calculated on $0.50 per bucket.

So having a excellent grasp of math we calculated that it would take just 7 buckets per day to pay for our room and board. We were issued a bucket, with a rope for a belt to hang in front, a punch card to be punched for each bucket turned in. So we
~~eagerly~~ grumbling awoke on our first day and walked to the orchard with buckets a dangling (v. To cause (one’s expectations or hopes) to hang uncertainly or remain unresolved) and eagerly attacked a cherry tree loaded with the famous “Bing Cherries“. Now here I was pulling those cherries and dropping them in the bucket, similar to milking a cow, as fast as I could with the rhythm I had established which was as follows, grab cherry by stem and pull and drop towards bucket.

After a few minutes I decided to try one of the cherries and see how they tasted so I did a grab and plop in mouth, not bad I said and went back to grab and drop, grab and drop, grab and drop, grab and drop then I did a grab and plop and thought why not another grab and plop?.

Now I was setting a rhythm of about 15 grab and drops followed by a grab and plop. This went on for a little while then the ratio of grab and drops to grab and plops begin to deteriorate rapidly to about one to one. The the noon meal bell rang and off I went to eat, after eating less than normal I returned to picking.

When the day ended and looked at how many holes I had in my “Buckets Picked” card I only had 4 which meant that tomorrow I would have to pick 10 buckets, no problem I said enthusiastically. At the end of the 2nd day, while reducing the ratio of grab and drops to grab and plops to about 30 to 1, I had only picked 7 buckets which was required to pay my bed and board. By the end of the 4th day I was in the hole by 9 buckets and I begin to worry and reviewed my skills as a cherry picker, which by now I knew they sucked, to see what I needed to do to become a least a 7 bucket picker so I would not owe any money at the end of the season. The final diagnosis (n : identifying the nature or cause of some phenomenon) was I was a cherry eating fool and I need to quit cold turkey.

I had now became a cherry picking fool, after I stopped eating those damn things, as now it was all grab and drop, grab and drop, grab and drop, grab and drop, with nary a grab and plop.

When the season came to a close and our accounts were settled I had a rip roaring $18.50 in pay to show for 2 months work.
Even though that sounds like a pittance, we were paid in many other ways and the best was peeking thru the cracks in the floor at the gals below that we had gotten to know that summer. There was one who I put a lip-lock on more than once and she seemed to enjoy it as much as I did (what do you expect from a couple of teenagers).

My buds and I were sitting around the night before we were to leave and discussing the long boring ride back to Breaux Bridge and we decided that we would do a Jack Kerouac’s On The Road (defining a post-World War II generation of intellectual outlaws on an aimless odyssey across the American landscape) and hitch hike back to Breaux Bridge

So the next morning off we went down Hwy 42 towards Green Bay and points south. It took us a week to get back to Breaux Bridge. Along the way we found that people were nice and after hearing our story would offer to buy us lunch or offer us a night at their house, which was better than sleeping inside the woods along side the highway as we did more than once.

We got back home with out being robbed, beat up or being arrested even though we did get a few rides to the other side of town by the local police who wished us good luck and a hearty don’t come back.

I love cherry pie but I can’t put a fresh cherry in my mouth to this day.

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July 11, 2006 Posted in: Long Ago Add Your Comment

Page 20 of 21« First...10 «17 18 192021 »

drannaks dribbles

Non semper ea sunt quae videntur

Roots and Limbs

I should have been a cowboy

Another stupid kid

do I know you?

Cherry Picking

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