Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I do not die.
~Mary Frye
Jerry Lynn Davis
Friday, October 31, 2008
Jerry Lynn Davis Sr. "Geepaw"
Abilene
Jerry Lynn Davis Sr. "Geepaw" of Abilene passed away on Tuesday, October 28 at his home with his loving family close by. A Memorial Service will be held Saturday, November 1, 11:00 AM at Baker Heights Church of Christ under the direction of North's Funeral Home, 242 Orange. His remains will be interred at the Abilene Texas State Veterans Cemetery when it opens in 2009.
Jerry was born in Ballinger, TX July 10, 1939 to Sidney Estes and Mae Belle. Jerry married Carolyn Marie Green on April 7, 1962 in Winters, TX. He attended Ballinger High School and joined the Army with his brother Gene in 1957. He faithfully served his country in the Army as a Military Policeman in Vietnam, a recruiter and working with young troops as a career counselor. He retired from the Army as a Sergeant First Class in 1978 to San Angelo, TX where he attended ASU and earned an Associate Degree in Business in 1980. He joined the U.S. Postal Service in 1982 working as a clerk, carrier, and custodian during his 20-year career. Jerry served as an elder of the North Main Church of Christ, in Winters and loved volunteering at Hendrick Medical Center. He was a member of Baker Heights Church of Christ for 14 years. Jerry loved High School football, Volkswagens, and visiting people. Jerry was known for his love of people and his sense of humor.
He is survived by his wife Carolyn of Abilene, his three children Jerry Jr., Karen and her husband Steve, DeDe and her husband Vance; six grandchildren Quinten, Madison, Ashten, Avery, Logan, and Meadow; his brothers Wilburn and Gene; his dog Eddie and so many close friends who will miss his friendship and sense of humor. The family would like to give thanks to Dr. Hirsch, and all of the wonderful nurses that cared for him.
Accepting donations in lieu of flowers to Baker Heights Church of Christ and Hendrick Hospice Care.
Ter Cothran sent the following: “Your blog on hitchhiking was most interesting and brought up an old memory.
It was the summer of 1955 and I was at the Hillcrest Drive-In watching a movie called Lullaby of Broadway, with James Cagney and Doris Day. I went to the snack bar during intermission and started talking to Jimmie Robbins. We somehow got on the subject of seeing the state of Colorado. Before I knew how it happened we were making plans to go THAT NIGHT. At the time I had a 1951 Henry J that was not in the best shape. Jimmie didn't have a car so it was decided that we would set out in my Henry J as soon as we could get home and get some clothes packed. We didn't tell our parents we were going and left about midnight on our journey to see Colorado.
About half way to Winters, my Henry J gave up and the engine blew. We pulled into an old abandoned gas station and left the Henry J behind in the weeds. (I never did go back for it and to my knowledge it could still be there).
We started walking and there was no traffic on the highway at all that night. We walked all the way to Winters and about sunup we were hitchhiking somewhere on the north side of Winters when we caught a ride. When we reached Abilene we caught another ride and continued on going west to Sweetwater and then on to Lubbock. I can't recall exactly how many different rides we picked up before we arrived in Santa Fe. In Santa Fe we caught a ride with a gentleman in a black '54 Chevrolet pickup. He took us all the way to Durango, Colorado and even bought our meals on the way.
Outside Durango we were walking again and had our thumbs out to catch another ride when we were stopped by the Colorado Highway Patrol. Unknown to us, it was illegal to hitchhike in the state of Colorado. When the patrolman found out we were only 16 years old he took us to the station and got on the phone to our parents. He asked my dad what he wanted them to do with us and my dad, being my dad, said, "I guess you had better turn them loose so they can get home ‘cause I'm sure as hell not coming up there after them". Jimmie's mom had a flame-out and started crying and came completely unglued and went to my parents house wanting to know what to do about getting us home. My dad said, "They got up there okay on their own, they can get back the same way", and we did.
So, that was the great hitchhiking experience of 1955. Jimmie's mom got over it, but never was too cool on Jimmie hanging out with me after that. We remained good friends until his death, ....... God rest his soul. In 1961 while hitchin' from Fort Carson, Colorado to Los Angeles, I passed over many of the same highways that Jimmie and I had traveled on our adventure, and I smiled.” …TER
Keep the memories coming in to me! Does anyone have any ghost stories to share? It's almost Halloween, you know.
Pay attention to all the "good stuff" happening. And don't forget to VOTE!
“Driving out of Abilene the other day, I saw a man waving a hand-lettered sign. "NEED A RIDE SOUTH," it said.I was doing 70; I didn't stop.Neither did other cars.
Got me thinking.I had driven the road from Ballinger to Abilene and back 78 times in the past 100 days.This was the first hitchhiker I'd seen in that time.Very different from 50 years ago.I wondered how many members of the class of ‘57 had used their thumbs to get rides.
JAMES HAYS and I caught three rides to GuadalupeMountain in December 1956 (ReunionHandbook).That was my first experience hitchhiking.Eight months later, in the summer of '57, I hitched from Abilene to near Fort Worth to visit NYDAH ELLET whose mother and stepfather had recently moved there.Took five hours and three rides on a Saturday.
Another weekend guest at NYDAH's mother's house agreed to my request for a ride to Ballinger as he was headed there the next morning.He and his wife were from Ballinger.He had a Taylorcraft, a two place, side by side, high wing airplane.As dawn was breaking, he and I bounced down a grass runway on the south side of Arlington.Trouble was he hadn't slept for a couple of days.A few feet off the ground, climbing nicely, his eyes closed.His head hung loose as he went fast asleep.At first I felt panic but, as his hand slipped from the control yoke to his lap, I touched the wheel in front of me and knew I could fly the plane.I hadn't been in a Taylorcraft before, but I had logged nearly ten hours of flying time in similar planes.I spotted the road to Brownwood, decided 1500 feet above the ground was a good altitude, and actually enjoyed the flight.This was before I got lost flying from Brownwood to Ballinger nine weeks later (for those who remember that account in a previous blog entry.)
An hour and a half after takeoff, Bruce Field appeared.I felt sure I could land the plane, was nearing the turn on final approach to the runway, when I decided I ought to try waking him.His eyes opened during the second vigorous shake.He reached for the control wheel, said "looks like we're here," rolled into a left turn and executed a perfect landing.He taxied, parked, shut the engine down."Guess I had too many beers last night."I didn't think he wanted me to agree, so I kept quiet.
That Taylorcraft trip was the only hitching I did by air.It taught me that when begging free rides the unexpected is usual.
During 1957 to 1959, JERRY EOFF and I hitched our way from Ballinger to Abilene (we both went to Abilene Christian) and back to Ballinger a number of times.Sometimes we joined each other but often it was a solo effort.I don't recall his parents or mine encouraging our thumbing rides, but I also don't remember that they objected.
One day we caught a ride that dropped us off south of Abilene.We stood for about ten minutes before a shiny Ford sedan stopped almost beside us.Usually by the time a driver saw us at highway speed, and took a long enough look to decide we were okay to stop for, the vehicle would be 20 to 40 yards past where we stood.Then we'd run toward it, hoping the driver wouldn't race away showering us with gravel.That happened only once, but it made a strong impression.
The gleaming Ford was immaculate.We both sat on the bench front seat with me in the middle.As the driver accelerated, I noticed that the speedometer went from 0 to 140."Will it go that fast," I naively asked."Don't know," he replied."Picked it up from the dealer a few minutes ago."His foot went to the floorboard."Let's see.It has the biggest engine Ford makes."
As the speedometer needle passed 126, the right front tire blew.Of course we didn't have seat belts fastened.The driver stayed cool, braked fairly gently and hauled it to a stop on the right edge of the pavement.We climbed out.He grabbed the jack, said we need not help, loosened lug nuts, bolted the spare on, threw the shredded wheel into the trunk, and took us out to the college.We waved and he waved as he rolled on toward were he was headed.We didn't ask.He didn't say.Probably going to see a cute woman I thought.
It was a felt rule, not written anywhere, that it wasn't polite to ask questions.The driver could ask.Others in the car could ask.The one seeking a ride should answer differentially and put up with whatever smells, noises, idiosyncrasies, and silences happened to be present.
I had fantasies of being picked up by a beautiful girl driving a fast car.It never happened.All the drivers from whom I got a lift turned out to be male.Just as well.I was too shy to know what to say to a glamorous woman anyway.
I never had any really bad experiences while hitchhiking, but there were two occasions that put me off.In 1959, late on a Friday, I was headed to Ballinger.I waited endlessly for someone to stop.Hardly anyone was on the road.Finally the worst looking auto I've ever seen outside a junk yard clanked and jangled and smoked its way to a stop.It had plenty of rust, a shredded rag top, torn seat covers--the old grey felt kind with springs sticking through--and four occupants dressed in rags.I failed to understand what the man driving or his spouse said to me, but I climbed into the back seat with two screaming kids.Took two and a half hours to get to Ballinger.Each of the four seemed to speak a different tongue from the others.In compensation for their seeming not to comprehend each other, they yelled nonstop.I swore I'd give up hitchhiking but two nights’ sleep and classes waiting to be finished at ACC had me back on the road the following Sunday afternoon.A pleasant man in a pickup took me the whole way.
The other off-putting experience happened in Patzcuaro, Mexico about fifteen years ago.I was there with my wife and her sister, both born Mexico.We needed a ride to the airport in Morelia an hour away.Cab drivers were on strike.On the town plaza, my sister-in-law talked to a group of men who had a truck and asked them to take us to the airport.I found myself feeling thoroughly uneasy.I kept thinking--you may find this odd but it is what I was thinking--"if only there could be an angel to show us what to do."Across the plaza, maybe 300 yards away, a woman walked rapidly toward me."The men you see there," she said looking at the guys my sister-in-law had talked with, are known to be thieves.You must avoid them!"(She worked at a local cultural institute that owned a small bus which she offered.)She told the men they would not be needed for the airport trip.I thanked her, asked her name."Angelica," she replied.
I have no idea, except for JERRY and JAMES, whether others in the class of '57 resorted to thumbing rides.I've picked up hitchhikers off and on across the years, but I didn't stop for the man headed south the other day.Something intuitive gets my foot on the brake--or not.I don't argue with that.”...GLENN
EDITOR'S NOTE: I was never in a position to hitchhike when I was young, but I remember during World War II that every trip anyone in our family made to California or Missouri, no matter how crowded our car was (with gas rationing, you took as many folks as needed a ride) we always picked up any service man who was hitchhiking. Often they would drive while others slept. As a small child, I spent many a mile trying to sleep with my head on the hump in the back floorboard.
I also heard my mother tell how her mother hitchhiked home to Missouri taking my mother and her younger brother with her during the Depression.
It's fall, the changing season. We still can see many of the beautiful flowers from spring and summer; and most of the leaves are still on the trees. The cool -- and often cold -- nights are a welcome relief from the long, hot summer nights. There is such a big difference sleeping when it's cool outdoors than with the coolness of air conditioning, don't you think? There is a crispness about nature now that hints of the coming winter. Of course, I am speaking of the days and nights here in Ballinger. Some of you are still experiencing summer weather, and some of you in the northern parts of the country may even be feeling as though winter has arrived. I love this, my favorite time of year!As a young girl, the end of summermeant the start of school, parties to attend, new friends, football games.Now September and October bring new TV shows! No more reruns. Well at least not for awhile.
I keep a journal off and on in order to "unblock" my creativity. Recently, I wrote the following: "The ugliness outside this little rent house -- the weeds and overgrown yard, the peeling paint, the broken swing... Is it a metaphor for my aging? The outside deteriorating... the body becoming undesirable? The inside is still colorful, warm, comfortable, and inviting. Isn't it that way with most people? If we can get past the not-so-young or -pretty exteriors, and allow ourselves to enter -- to seek out the warmth and beauty within, how much richer our lives can still be. The body may be aging and wrinkled, and it may be broken somewhat, but the heart is still pumping away. Life 'til the very end has some rewards for everyone if we open ourselves up and look for openings to know others."
I love coming into my little house. It is filled with mementos, photographs, gifts, and art work from friends and family. Nearly every item has a story behind it. And lots of loving memories. Even if it means clutter to some folks, I always make room for more -- especially from loved ones.And that creates a home full of loving energy that welcomes all.
I recently ran across some pictures taken in Midland in 1965. I think this one of Diana (BHS '64) and WALTER THOMAS is particularly good.I forwarded it and one of their first son, Gregory, to Diana. I was sad when she wrote back that Greg has just finished chemo and radiation treatments and is to undergo surgery (called the Whipple procedure) for cancerous cysts on his pancreas. I know you will all want to join me in sending our love and prayers for his complete recovery.
Gregory Thomas's first Easter 1965. (Left) Mr. and Mrs. Greg Thomas, Spring 2008. (Below)
MEDICAL UPDATES: IRENE PIEL BATTS will undergo another "marathon" chemotherapy treatment this coming Monday. Please hold her in your thoughts and pray that this treatment will not be as rough on her as the last one was.
Last weekend I received the following email from JAMES HAYS: "Kay had a total hip replacement yesterday and is doing well. She has been crippling around for the last year like an old mare with a half-thrown shoe. The good news is that she is determined to not go back to smoking cigarettes when she leaves the hospital. She is able to get out of bed with minimal assistance tonite (October10th) and walk with a walker. Hopefully she will be able to go home by Monday.
I'm going to take a stress test next Friday in preparation to try to get my flight physical back. Did 18 pushups and 25 situps and walked one and a half miles today."
I asked how he did on the stress test, but I haven't heard back from him. Good luck, JAMES. Let us know how both you and Kay are doing.
All of you who personally know JERRY DAVIS, love him for his great sense of humor. Anytime I have called him to cheer him up, he has ended up cheering me up! Well, not today folks. I am so sorry to announce that JERRY received the worst news he could receive in the hospital this week.That dreadful cancer just refused to be beat this time around. He is at home now with Hospice care and surrounded by his loving family. He was very weak when I spoke to himthis morning, but he had the strength to tell me to tell everyone of you that "I love those '57 Bearcats!" I told him we love him, too, and will be praying for him. Even if you cannot speak to him, you may wish to send him your love via email or a card. Please pray for Carolyn and his family as well during this difficult time for all of them.
JUNE HASH CURRY reports great success with the physical therapy she has been receiving. It has relieved her pain so much that surgery on her spine will not be necessary. Hallelujah!
I'm thinking of all of you, and hoping there is still a lot of "good stuff" going on in your life. Let me know.
Someone recently asked me if I moved to Ballinger the first time from Louisiana. No. Actually, in the summer of 1952 my parents divorced and shipped me and my sister Jean off to northern California to live for a while with my mother's dad, his wife, and their three children. We lived in the country surrounded by huge pine trees and beautiful mountains. Mt. Shasta was the largest of these, and the name of the little town in which I started 8th grade. Optimist that I was, I quickly joined a team of cheerleaders and spent two months rehearsing routines for the tryouts. I was very petite, so they had me be the acrobat of our team of five, as I was easy to toss into the air and catch. (Not many cheerleaders did that in those days unless they were at a college level.) The kids in that school tried out by teams rather than individuals. I loved being a part of this school where I had started first grade, when my mother sent us to stay with Granddad for the first time at the end of WWII. We pulled out class photos from first grade and nearly all the original class members still attended.
A week before tryouts, we were informed that my sister and I would be leaving California to join my mother and her new husband in New York state.I was devastated, as were my classmates. The wanderlust in my family's blood would later become something of pattern in my life as well.The plans for our trip across country soon had me filled with excitement. We were going to FLY!! I was 12 years old and Jean was 10, and we were flying alone. I was so naive that I made promises to all my classmates that when we flew over the school I would throw notes to them from the plane!
The first leg of our trip was from some airport around Mt. Shasta to San Francisco. This was a very small prop plane, and I remember my ears popping. When we got to SF, we had several hours to spend in the huge airport. As the oldest, I was responsible for listening to the announcements that would let me know when our plane was to depart, and at what gate. We did not leave until 11:00 pm, so after we ate and explored every single shop in the airport, I found sofas on a big mezzanine. Jean stretched out and slept while I kept watch. I remember how grownup I felt, and how nervous I was that I wouldn't hear the flight being announced.
I did hear the flight announcement, and we boarded a huge United Airlines plane. Remember, this was before jets. The next leg of our journey would take 7 hours for us to reach Chicago O'Hare airport. I remember the stewardess placing us at the back of the front cabin. Our seats would not recline. Directly behind us was a cabin full of "sleepers" -- just like a pullman car on a train! I was envious of the people who got to sleep in their own bunk that night. We were two very sleepy, mussed, and wrinkled little girls who got off that plane the next morning. A stewardess from American Airlines was there to meet us and quickly whisked us away to catch our flight to Rochester, New York where our mother and new stepfather were waiting.
We ended up living in a little town called Dresden, near Seneca Lake in upstate New York. Mother had a photography studio in nearby Geneva, NY, which they bought from a man who was caught peeking through a two-way mirror in the women's dressing room. They didn't prosecute him, as he had been there for many, many years -- a respected citizen, but they essentially ran him out of town! While there, I attended a two-room schoolhouse in Dresden. First through fourth grades were downstairs, while fifth through eighth were upstairs. In the midst of writing a Christmas play for the school and rehearsing for the Christmas pageant at church, we were saddened to hear we would be returning to Texas.
After an exciting train trip to Texas by way of a lengthy stopover in St. Louis, we started our third school that year in San Antonio. I also hooked up with classmates I had been with at different times in my elementary school years, as San Antonio was our "home base" it seems. By now I had learned to jump in with both feet, get involved, and enjoy the good times while they lasted. Sure enough, by March of 1953, we were informed of our parents' remarrying and moving us as a family to a little town called Ballinger. I said goodbye for the last time to my classmates at Mark Twain Junior High School. This would make four schools in three states in one school year. Imagine -- California history, New York history, and Texas history. Kind of boggles the mind to think about it now. Recently, my son Matthew made the comment that "at least you got to spend all your school years in one place"!! I don't know what he was doing when I was telling my tales through the years, but he obviously wasn't listening to me! I promptly told him the above story. He got quiet, then said, "well, at least you didn't have to walk 6 miles through the snow!"
(Photo at right: MARILYN and DOROTHY BISHOP ROGERS -- 8th Grade Graduation Picture)
DOTTIE was my first friend here in Ballinger. We had some good times together, and her photos were labeled "My Best Friend" in my scrapbook. The ones below with the rattlesnake were taken at my dad's sand and gravel plant in South Ballinger. I thought the guys would get a kick out of the old cars, and girls, get a load of the pin curls! Remember those?
Now for some some health updates. I spoke with JERRY DAVIS this past weekend. He has been having some severe back pain, but Carolyn padded all around him with pillows and they took off to visit JERRY'S best bud, CHARLES FIKES. He called me from CHARLES' house and said they were having a great time. He had been taken on a tour of the place and around the barn on CHARLES' four wheeler. JERRY has finished all the radiation treatments and is waiting on the final results from his doctor.
IRENE PIEL BATTS has asked me to post the following note from her to you all:
"I've been so touched by the prayers, warm thoughts, lovely cards and emails I've received from many of my '57 classmates. Thank you for all your many ways of making bright occasions out of ordinary days. I'm so grateful for all your thoughtfulness and caring." Love, Irene
IRENE has shown so much courage during the weeks of difficult treatment and much pain she has endured. She is in Week 4 of 6 weeks of radiation treatments, and has had one full day of chemotherapy. There will be at least one more chemo treatment.
JUNE HASH CURRY has been undergoing physical therapy three times a week to alleviate back and neck pain, and hopefully, to circumvent further surgery.
Please remember these warm, beautiful people in your thoughts and prayers. I know for some, prayer may not be something you practice or that comes easily for you. I recently read something in my Daily Word magazine that I thought was a beautiful way of expressing your good wishes. It went like this:
"Praying for others is as easy as holding loving thoughts.. My prayers do not have to be formal or lengthy. A declaration such as 'I love you,' or 'I see you healthy, happy, and whole' is a prayer from my heart." From my heart to yours, I love you guys, Marilyn
I remember a TV commercial a few years ago that must have been promoting a particular kind of car. (I forget which.) This car was for the “adventuresome”, those who wanted to think "outside the lines". It showed a long, empty stretch of highway through the desert, and the car was racing down the highway, obviously ignoring the rules of the road!
This commercial immediately evoked memories of my younger son, Matthew. When he was four years old his dad and I divorced. As I had to go to work to support us, he had to go into daycare. There was a recommended daycare right behind the apartments in which we lived. The fence surrounding our apartments had a missing board that allowed Matthew to squeeze through, and we didn’t have to make the long trip around the block when I was rushing to get to work every morning.
In the beginning, this was a great new adventure for Matthew. He was a very bright four year old who loved his books at home, and was excited about learning. After a week or two, my exuberant little towhead began to balk at going to “school”. Finally, one day he began to sob uncontrollably and cling to me. He didn’t want to go at all anymore. I asked him why. Between sobs, he told me, “They make me stay between the lines!”
I immediately went to the director of the school with this, and asked her what on earth was upsetting him so. What was this “between the lines” he spoke of? It seems two hours of these youngsters’ days were spent in coloring mimeographed pictures! Not only was that waaay too long to keep a four year old interested in doing the same thing over and over, but to “stay within the lines” when he used his crayons?? Ahhh, how they crushed the creativity in this little boy!
The teacher in that class informed me that he had to learn to stay within the lines before he started to real school. I told her and the director that this child would be faced with a minimum of 12 years of schooling, including following lots of rules and regulations, soon enough. At barely four years of age I thought he deserved the chance to play and enjoy being a rambunctious little boy a while longer!
Not long after that, Matthew resumed his enthusiasm for attending his daycare. I later learned that for the following year, he was treated differently from all the other little ones. When they had to sit for two hours coloring within the lines, Matthew was allowed to go outdoors and play on the playground. One of the workers even went so far as to really spoil him. If he didn’t like the food they served for lunch, she would fix him a special peanut butter and jelly sandwich! His experiences in that school may not have been the best for him, but it was better than his being miserable and forced into what I considered unproductive activities at a much too young age.
How many of us, and ones like us, suffered from the restrictions society placed on us to conform at an early age? I remember a second grade teacher of my older son who informed me that they had nothing to offer brighter than average children, because, “We believe that your child will have to learn sooner or later to adjust to and get along with the slow people in our society and he might as well start to now”. So the curriculum in that particular school was geared to the slowest students. To keep Craig out of trouble when he finished his work early, I had to ask her to give him extra assignments! Not only did his behavior improve, so did his grades.
These little tales make me so thankful for the better schools my grandchildren have the opportunity to attend. There is even an entire elementary school for gifted students that my granddaughter Hannah attends in Dallas. I believe that most schools today have something to offer gifted students that will challenge them, and give them the opportunities to explore the realms “outside the lines”. The Advanced Placement courses offered in high school are another example of how our educational system has progressed. Of course, like most I hear from in our class, I believe Ballinger High School was an extremely good school, with above average teachers. I don’t know if that was the norm everywhere then, but it certainly wasn’t the norm where my own children had to attend school.
I know how important rules, regulations, and indeed “lines” are in our culture, however, I often wonder how much further along we as a society might be now if we had not had so many “shoulds” and restrictions placed on us at an early age. The people who have made the most contributions to our world are often the ones who dared to work and play “outside the lines”!
By the way, have any of you felt, like I have, that there is an inordinate amount of gifted and talented children being born into the world today? I thought for a while that it was the better health of the mothers giving birth. You know… no caffeine or medications ~ not even aspirin ~ better vitamins, more natural childbirths, etc. Now my theory is that it must be the evolution of our species. But that is another story for another blog.
PAUL MOTA is one I can always count on to give me some feedback on the blog. I asked him to tell me a little more about growing up in Ballinger. This was his submission:
"I have some wonderful memories of growing up in Ballinger…
I guess most of what I remember was the freedom to go everywhere without the fear there is today of someone molesting you or anything like that. I remember coming home on leave and locking the door to my mother's house, and she had such a strange look on her face. She always said, 'no one breaks in, why are you locking the door?'
I remember as a young kid spending the whole day out at the river or at the park with my friends. I think kids today don't realize what they are missing. It was a wonderful way to grow up. Now when I think of the things we did, it is a miracle that most of us survived. Some of the fun things could have caused us severe injuries or even death. Someone was watching over us for sure.
I remember some very caring teachers all through the Ballinger system. I know from my days away from Ballinger that I had a solid education. I hope that is still continuing to be the norm. I clearly remember Mrs. Ruble trying to convince me to stay in school and not drop out to join the Air Force. But at 18, we all knew everything, didn't we?
I had 4 sisters and 4 brothers, all born and raised in Ballinger. My mother was mainly a housewife, and my father worked for the railroad. One brother, Ramon, served his 4 years in the Air Force and returned, and to this day remains in Ballinger. He knows everyone there a lot better than I do.
I guess I was kinda quiet in school. I went to ASU at a late age (40 or so), and since that time I have gained confidence and I don’t think I am as quiet as before. I see myself now as enjoying life, music, sports, and trying to laugh as much as possible. “~ PAUL (Editor's note: I tried to get Paul to send me a photo with a big smile!)
PEGGY BRANHAM KRUMLINDE lived in the house pictured in the last blog post ~ 805 5th Street. She correctly identified it:
"This house looks like the one we lived in on 5th street - there was a separate garage in the back with a second story apartment. It was near the water tower - about half a block or so. It has been a long, long time, though. The tree threw me off a bit - it was so small when we lived there." ~ PEG (Editor's note: As I previously said, houses ~ like us~ morph into something quite different over a period of 50 years!)
In a recent email from PEG, it sounded like she is on a cruise to Mexico about now. If that is so, PEG, send us some pictures to share!
HEALTH UPDATES:
I spoke with JERRY DAVIS this week and he sounds like he is doing very well. It will be a few more weeks before the doctors can tell the full effects of the radiation treatments he endured. However, He said one doctor told him he was pleased with the latest x-ray, and that it showed some improvement in his lung. JERRY, as usual, had a few funny stories to relate, but not necessarily any for the blog! I'm waiting on one of those, JERRY.
IRENE PIEL BATTS was given the okay by her surgeon in San Antonio to start radiation treatments. She is healing very well from all the surgery. She will meet with the doctors in San Angelo this week to schedule her treatments. Her spirits remain high, and she feels very blessed by all your prayers and concerns.
Please continue to send loving thoughts (and prayers) to both JERRY and IRENE. They both still have a good deal of pain to deal with.
Many of you by now have realized that JUNE HASH CURRY is quick to send emails, cards, and good wishes to any who have birthdays or health challenges. She is going through a battery of tests to determine if she needs another back surgery to alleviate severe pain in her upper back. I know you will all want to wish her well, and hope the cause of her discomfort will soon be discovered and completely eradicated. We want to visit with her at the next All-School Reunion.
JEEP JACKSON has recently moved to Queen City, Texas near the Arkansas border, and GLENN SMITH has moved to Abilene. I will update you with their new addresses and telephone numbers shortly. I know that GLENN still has the same email address, so you may reach him there or write to him at his P.O. box number here in Ballinger.
The weather has been so beautiful lately. The cooler nights indicate that fall may soon arrive. I hope so. This summer has been really hot! Lots of 100+ temperatures.
Have fun out there, enjoy life, and share the Good Stuff with us.
Recently ROSALYN and Nolan (BHS Class of '54) celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary with a huge party in San Antonio. ROSALYN told me to tell everyone "we had a large party that was 'my dream party' (lots of family & friends). We served 106 dinners, had LOTS of beer, and had very good music to dance to. We really enjoyed our party." ROSALYN sent several photographs of what I believe to be her beautiful family, and ROSALYN appears as radiant as a new bride in each photo. Congratulations to you both, ROSALYN and Nolan. It sounds like the party was a great way to celebrate the next 50 years!
No one recognized this house as their home during high school. This one is on Fifth Street. I'm not sure this is the best little game to play with our aging memories. Not to mention that things certainly do change after 50 years ~ trees get huge or are cut down (kinda like us!). People remodel or paint the houses. Many may not look anything at all like they did when you lived there.
I got the address wrong on the house that SHEILA GREGORY DANKWORTH lived in. It was 400 Largent, not 401. I ran into SHEILA at the hospital a couple of weeks ago when she visited IRENE PIEL BATTS. I teased her about not recognizing it, but then it certainly wasn't painted green when she lived there! As it turns out, SHEILA said she had not been able to open the blog at all. I assured her she would like some of the stories her former classmates have sent in. She promised to try again to open the site. (Has anyone else had difficulty accessing the blog?)
I took the picture at right along Elm Creek at Ballinger City Park. The bank on this side was mostly rock, but this beautiful blooming shrub caught my eye. I'm not sure what the shrub is or whether it is wild or was planted there by City employees, but it made for a pretty summertime image. To the right of this, overlooking the park and swimming pool is a small area for RVs, complete with picnic tables and barbecue grills. Kinda makes you want to jump right in and take a swim, doesn't it? Sadly, the camera caught only the beauty and not the real murkiness of the water. I sometimes wonder if there are any waterways left in this part of Texas that run clean and clear.
I love this picture of IRENE PIEL BATTS taken at the Class Reunion. She is always such fun to tell a story to! I am happy to say, she has not lost that wonderful spirit, and is so full of optimism. She is at home now, with Home Health nurses and a physical therapist coming frequently to assist with her care. That remarkable daughter of hers and David's, Amy, is ~ as the old folks used to say, "putting stars in her crown" with her devotion and attention to the needs of IRENE as well as David, who has been fighting a health challenge of his own. IRENE will start radiation therapy soon.
Even though IRENE's at home, she is mostly in bed. It would be extremely hard to receive visitors at this time. However, she has no problem getting to her computer now, so if you'd like to send her encouragement via email, please do. And don't forget the prayers!
JIM COWLISHAW submitted the following for our "Strange Happenings": "Our first son was born in a small hospital in Hobart, Oklahoma. The recovery room for the newborns was a room not much bigger than an average closet, with a window so that the proud father could view his child. As I was viewing my son, a man came up and said to me, 'Your son?' To which I replied, 'Yes'. He said, 'Do you think that he will give you as much trouble as you gave your dad?'
I turned; no one was there! I have always believed that I had a brush with an angel. And I am glad that I was able to tell my father THANKS while he was still alive.
Never know, do we?" ~ JIM
This is a reminder, JIM, that you promised to take some pictures on your recent trip to Denver and forward them to me for all of us to share in your vacation! I don't know for certain how long you were going to be there, but maybe you caught a few images of some of the politicians there for the DNC?
I cannot resist putting in this picture of CHARLES FIKES and his adorable little granddaughter Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn's the one who prayed the precious prayer for God to fix her grandmother's CD player. Who could deny this little charmer any request? CHARLES wasn't able to make the class reunion, but I have to say, CHARLES, you do not seem to have aged a bit since I saw you at the 2000 All School Reunion.
I called JERRY DAVIS a few days ago to get a progress report. BILL KING told me that the series of radiation treatments was finished. As I did not reach JERRY, I can only assume that he is well into recovery! When we finally do talk, I will give you an update.
Until next time, keep an eye out for the "good stuff" that happens all around you! And tell us about it!!
GLENN SMITH submitted the following about his brush with the supernatural.
TIME OF DEATH
“JUNE HASH CURRY and TERRY COTHRAN have recently told stories on the blog of unusual experiences.Theirs reminded me of one that happened in September 1971.
I was living in Ames, Iowa.My dad had slowly become more and more debilitated as a result of Parkinson's disease.He'd had the condition for about ten years.Jerry and Shirley Eoff spent nearly every night for three and a half years helping my mom take care of him. During the final weeks he was in the nursing home in Ballinger.
I got a call from Dr. Chandler telling me that if I wanted to see him alive, I should make travel plans.The quickest flight arrived the next day at DFW around 7 a.m. where I was met by my nephew and his family.Somehow what is now just under a four hour drive took nearly eight that day.We sauntered for hours well under the speed limit, with numerous fuel and restroom stops.My nephew insisted on doing all the driving, despite my repeated offers, and he orchestrated a lengthy lunch break.A little south of Winters he finally heard the last of my three urgent requests to hurry.
We were indicating 80, on the way to a higher number, when I felt tension stop my breathing and pull my body erect.I entered a quiet zone of intense anxiety for maybe three to five minutes.Suddenly my whole body relaxed, as if a switch had been turned off.I exhaled, slumped in the seat, and heard my voice say:‘You can slow down.It's too late.’
I looked at my watch and noted the exact time.(I was wearing a Bulova Accutron, the world's most accurate watch at the time, given to me by Jerry Eoff.He also wore one and he and I made a point of keeping them set as closely as possible to the atomic clock in Colorado.)
In front of the nursing home, Jerry walked slowly toward the car.He shook his head from side to side nearly imperceptibly.‘What time?’ I asked.He pointed to the face of his watch at the exact time that I had noted in the car.‘He thought you were there,’ he added.
I kept silent but almost said, ‘I don't think he thought I was there, but I know he knew I was with him.’ ~ GLENN
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EDITOR: We probably all have a few stories tucked away in our memories of unusual or unexplained occurrences. Some might call one of mine just a coincidence.
When I was living in “The Barn” several years ago, I was going through a particularly tough time financially.I was headed to my little church for an evening class, feeling sorry for myself, and bemoaning my condition.I reached to turn on the radio, a sob catching in my throat as I cried out to God, “What am I to do?”Immediately, the song on the radio came through the speakers, “Get a job now, ta da da da da, Get a job now..”I burst out laughing and couldn’t wait to get to church to share this with my friends in class.We always mused over the different ways we are given spiritual messages.This was the most blatant of messages I received, and I must say I got busy the next day and went to apply for a job (again). God certainly has a sense of humor!
You’ve all heard the saying, “Be careful what you wish for”?During those same years in The Barn, I had a lot of lessons to learn.And a lot of “unusual” happenings to help me learn.
At one time I had put up a makeshift “desk” in a corner of the great room that consisted of a couple of small two-drawer filing cabinets painted white, and the top of a blue folding table bridged between them.It made a good temporary desk, but I needed the blue table for other things.Every time I went through that room on my way out the door, I would glance at that corner desk and say to myself, “I wish I had a real desk back there” or “I sure do need a desk.”This went on for weeks.One day my son Matthew called me and asked if I would like a desk.A friend of his worked for a big apartment complex, and people were always skipping out on their rent, leaving all kinds of furniture behind.I was thrilled to hear I would finally get a real desk!
That evening Matthew pulled up in his truck, andI went outside to help unload my “new” desk.My eyes got big and I started laughing like crazy.Matt asked why I was laughing.I said I wish I had asked for an oak desk.You guessed it..The small desk he pulled out had white drawers on the bottom with a blue Formica top – the same color blue as my temporary desk top!I had “manifested” a new desk by looking at my old one over and over, and stating that I needed a new one.I guess that picture in my mind went out to the Universe.
“What you hold in your thoughts, you create in your world.”This is one of the reasons I try to keep negative thoughts and pictures out of my mind.And why I don’t like to receive negative emails or stories from folks. I was told once, "Your fears are as strong as your prayers."
Am I superstitious? Nahh.. just cautious. And definitely a Believer!
Have any similar stories you wish to share with us? Let me hear them!
'Til next time, keep making "good stuff" happen ~ you have more power than you think!
The following story submitted by JUNE HASH CURRY is guaranteed to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as well as give you goose bumps!
"During a period when I was still in Tulsa, about two years ago, I had an experience I will probably never forget. It involved my little toy poodle, Muffin, and my Tulsa newspaper delivery man. Although it will seem to the reader to be a work of fiction, every word of this story is true and can be verified in the archives of the Tulsa World and by my family.
My youngest son, Chris, who moved back to live with me after his divorce, and I were still living in Tulsa where I took a daily newspaper and very much looked forward to reading it with my morning coffee. I had an absolutely dependable newspaper delivery man who never missed leaving my morning paper no matter what the weather conditions or whatever holiday was present. He was as dependable as the morning sunrise. He had sent a note in my newspaper saying that if I ever failed to receive my paper I was to call him directly at the telephone number given—not the newspaper—and he would immediately see that I received my copy. I filed that number in a safe place, never expecting to need it by his faithful delivery performance.
One Sunday morning while preparing for church I went out to get my paper and found it missing. I simply couldn’t believe it, and spent some time looking high and low for it; but no paper was present. I went inside immediately and called my paper carrier. He seemed absolutely distressed by my call and said he would be right over with my newspaper. Very shortly he drove up to my townhouse and came to my front door with the paper in hand. I had the inner door open and saw him through the storm door which happened to be latched. Just as I got to the door to open it and reach out for my paper my little poodle, Muffin, exploded in front of me. She went absolutely ballistic at the man standing in front of my storm door and totally refused to let me get between her and the door. I was astounded at her behavior. I had raised this little dog from a 10-week old puppy, and she had always loved every single person she had ever been around, man, woman or child. She is normally so affectionate that she’s a total pest just making her loving presence known to any visitors. On this occasion, she convinced me that if I had opened that door she would have taken the man’s leg off; so of course I did not unlock or open the door. I just shouted for him to leave the newspaper on the step and my thanks for his trouble. He looked very unhappy but got in his car and left. I spent the next few minutes scolding my little dog and puzzling over such behavior from her.
About three weeks later I was absentmindedly watching the evening news on television when a few words captured my attention about an arrest made on that day. It concerned a Tulsa World newscarrier and showed a picture of the man arrested. I couldn’t believe my eyes and called Chris in to ask him who he thought the man on TV was. He immediately identified our newspaper carrier. This man had been arrested after being identified by the granddaughter of a woman living a few blocks away from us. She had walked into her grandmother’s house and saw a man strangling her in the floor before he saw the granddaughter and quickly fled. Her grandmother was still alive, and they immediately called the police and identified the woman’s paper carrier. After this man was arrested he couldn’t wait to confess to all his crimes, which included two other elderly women in our neighborhood who had been murdered and burglarized, but whose deaths had been pronounced by their doctors as simply death by illness because of their ages and diseases. He said he always asked them to call him if they missed their newspaper, and then on the days he targeted them, he simply didn’t deliver their newspapers. After they called him, he went over with their papers, forced himself in the doors and attacked them before taking anything valuable in their homes he could find.
All these confessions were later confirmed after one of the women’s bodies was exhumed and examined by the medical examiner, although the second woman had been cremated. It seems he had also killed a woman in Arkansas and one in California, and he confessed to these as well. The woman who survived testified against him in court and he was quickly convicted and imprisoned.
I have always believed in guardian angels, and never more strongly than I do today. I know my angel was on duty on that Sunday morning when this deranged individual came to my house and was sidetracked by my normally quiet and loving little dog to keep me from harm. She had never behaved in that manner before and has not done so since that day. My angel used that precious little pet to assure my safety. I thank God for His loving care in whatever form it comes." ~ JUNE
(toypoodles.com)
Having had many loving pets through the years, and one little dog named Fancy who lived to be almost twenty years of age, this story does not stretch my imagination. I agree with JUNE that our guardian angels come in many disguises. They don't have to be very big either!
Thanks for sharing such "good stuff", JUNE. How about the rest of you?
