I have one dear memory of Mama that I have never been able to satisfactorily articulate, or to fully record in writing. It is the memory of the morning I left my home, on January 13, 1940, to attend a college that was located 400 miles away. Due to the fact that …
In my primal times of ego, In my dawning days of childhood, In my first-remembered moments, In my spawning hours of fear; I remember hearing echoes As if spoken by the angels; I remember that a Whisper Seemed to always linger near. As I slipped away from childhood, As I …
In 1914, papa gave $4.00 (four dollars) for a beautiful and masterfully crafted old second-hand Seth Thomas clock. That dear old clock was one of the constant constants in the times of our childhood, adolescence, and early maturity. And it remained an emotional constant in our minds and hearts. Only …
In the summer of 1923, after the crops were laid by, and seven months before Buddy was born, Papa decided that we would make a covered-wagon trip up through Gainesville, Texas, and on into Oklahoma. The wagon was outfitted with groceries, clothing, bales of hay for the mules, and other …
Riding the old mule-drawn Cassidy mouldboard plow around and around in the field after the grain had been harvested and threshed, turning about 10 inches of the stubble-sod after each round. The eagerness and gratitude with which he received the fresh water that I often took to him as he …
In early September, 1931, after our first bale of cotton was sold, Papa came home from town with a bulging sack of groceries for our celebration supper. Inside the sack were several T-bone steaks, two or three loaves of store-bought bread, a dozen or so of both apples and oranges, …
Feeding and watering and currying and shearing and doctoring and pulling cockleburs from the tails of horses and mules. Bridling and harnessing rebellious and rearing and snorting and kicking horses and mules. Driving a mule-drawn wagon to church on Sunday morning. Driving a wagon or buggy to town for groceries …
| Murder and Runaway Mules | Music for a Moppet | A Cotton-Picking Love Story | The Hovel That Became a Mansion | The Crossing | The Home-Going of Mama’s Mother Deep and dear memories of the “story-telling hours” that we spent at Mama’s knees, along with the many stories …
An abundance of fleeting memories of Mama have always floated and danced through my mind and heart, but none of the memories of my first two years of life are ever clear and distinct. Among my earliest concrete memories are: Those of her sitting beside Papa on the spring seat …
I have made an extended effort to recall many of the memories of my childhood in general, and of Papa and Mama in particular. I have reflected in the soft light of morning, in the bright light of noon, in the waning light of evening, and in the silent and …
(Tales from a Texas Preacher excerpt.) Shortly after Buddy had recuperated from his coal-and-horseshoe wounds, I became apprehensive about his personal security. Bonnie and Clyde, and Raymond Hamilton, were terrorizing our country in every direction. This forced me to the conclusion that I must devise some method or mark by …
