Like life everywhere, ours seem to have gotten out of control. Several ongoing projects demand more time than we can give them. We are taking days out of the week attending funerals. Cousins, uncles and friends have died,so we have attended funerals.
I walk away from each funeral disappointed that we did not celebrate the life that just ended.
When did funerals become an opportunity to preach, giving only cursory acknowledgement to the deceased?
Uncle Shorty Lastracco passed away at the age of 102.
Thanks to a video made when he was 100 the mourners got a glimpse of his extraordinary life. A sea trip at age 3 brought him from a small village in Italy to Ellis Island. His name, and the names of his parents are inscribed on the wall at Ellis Island.
At age 11 he became an American citizen. His pride in that accomplishment still evident at age 100.
Italian was not allowed to be spoken in the home his parents made in Rosharon,Tx. "We are Americans now", we speak English" he recalled his father saying. My husband, Robert Turner remembers him telling that.
At age 16 he drove a chuck wagon on a cattle drive that took cattle from the gulf coast salt grass flats to market.
At age 21 he rented his first farm. His rent was 1/4 of the corn and 1/3 of the cotton. He made his rent that first year.
That video comforted my husband, his nephew. He was known as "Uncle Shorty" to so very many, yet that name was never uttered by the pastor who led the service.
Uncle Shorty was considered to be the "meanest man ever" by many who in their older age laugh while saying it. They see now what Uncle Shorty was trying to do then; raise them to be honest, hard working, self sufficient men and women.
Theirs was an extended family of aunt, uncles, cousins and grandparents. They are all passing on now, the group shrinking season by season.
Uncle Shorty was the last of the generation, his passing truly marks the end of an era for his family.
His funeral should have celebrated his establishment and leadership of that family.
My husband said, upon leaving the service, "It really doesn't matter, we grew up with him, Uncle Shorty left his mark on his kids, and all of us cousins. There won't ever be anybody like Uncle Shorty. He helped make us who we are now, he touched a lot of rowdy kids who grew up to be pretty good men and women. We don't need any preacher to tell us that, hell, we KNEW him!"
Blessed were those who did.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Sunday, December 26, 2010
City Sister
This christmas season puts in mind of a conversation I had with my city sister several years ago. Her comment was that she could never live in my part of Texas, to her mind too rural and backwards. In truth I never plannned on living where I do but now that I am here you certainly could not get me to leave, at least not voluntarily.
Her comments started me thinking about why I live here and love it so much. She wonders how I live "without the conveniences" She labors under the impression the we here in the country are living in trying curcumstance without the benefit of technology, that we are all farmers or loggers. She thinks if a cow has horns, it is a bull. How little she knows.
Yes, she does have live theater and symphony,( so do we in the closest large town) 4 grocery stores in a 2 mile radius and a mall less than 10 minutes from her home. I will agree that she has a far superior selection of stores to shop in and yes, she does make quite a bit more money than I ever will here, but what I do have far exceeds any amenities she may care to list.
I know my neighbors and they know me. More than that, they know my dog and when I am gone he is welcome at their house. The young married couple who live just south of me take care of our place when we are gone. This neighbor thinks taking care of the place means having it freshly mowed when we get home.
If I pull over to the side of the road to talk on the phone, no fewer than 3 people will slow down to make sure I am ok. One phone call will bring more help than I need; my neighbors know I am ready to help them whatever the time of day. Their trouble is my trouble. I have keys to their homes and they have keys to mine. If they need my tractor, they use it and bring it back, usually filled to the brim with fuel. It pleases me to know that we have that kind of relationship.
We have community blood drives and the Blood Bank knows they will have a full day here. We watch each other's stock, each other's homes and each other's children.
Our schools are important to us, not because we have nothing better to do, but because our children are our future.
The local feed store is family owned and family operated. they still say "Yes ma'am and No ma'am"
A phone call will get you what you need and if you can't get there by noon on Saturday, they will set it out on the loading dock for you and it will be there when you come for it.
I never feel taken advantage of when I go to my local garage. Scotty knows my name and my car's quirks. If he can't fix my car, he will send me to someone who can.
I moved into a community where practically everyone is related to everyone else either by blood or marriage. Land here has been in the same family for generations, sometimes the original home place still stands but more often that not, only the remains of a homeplace hang on. I am not related to anyone but after several years of living here, you would not know it.
Our community is like grandmother's quilt, handed down, pieced together from various scraps and trimmings, colorful and sturdy.
Some of my neighbors are loggers and farmers. They follow a well-worn path of family tradition. They are intelligent and thoughtful men and women who also have college degrees and a strong sense of purpose. I count attorneys, paramendics& college professors as neighbors. I also count talented successful craftsmen who can weld the break of day or fashion a baby cradle from the old black walnut down in the back pasture.
We are community and we are blessed. City sister should have such riches.
Her comments started me thinking about why I live here and love it so much. She wonders how I live "without the conveniences" She labors under the impression the we here in the country are living in trying curcumstance without the benefit of technology, that we are all farmers or loggers. She thinks if a cow has horns, it is a bull. How little she knows.
Yes, she does have live theater and symphony,( so do we in the closest large town) 4 grocery stores in a 2 mile radius and a mall less than 10 minutes from her home. I will agree that she has a far superior selection of stores to shop in and yes, she does make quite a bit more money than I ever will here, but what I do have far exceeds any amenities she may care to list.
I know my neighbors and they know me. More than that, they know my dog and when I am gone he is welcome at their house. The young married couple who live just south of me take care of our place when we are gone. This neighbor thinks taking care of the place means having it freshly mowed when we get home.
If I pull over to the side of the road to talk on the phone, no fewer than 3 people will slow down to make sure I am ok. One phone call will bring more help than I need; my neighbors know I am ready to help them whatever the time of day. Their trouble is my trouble. I have keys to their homes and they have keys to mine. If they need my tractor, they use it and bring it back, usually filled to the brim with fuel. It pleases me to know that we have that kind of relationship.
We have community blood drives and the Blood Bank knows they will have a full day here. We watch each other's stock, each other's homes and each other's children.
Our schools are important to us, not because we have nothing better to do, but because our children are our future.
The local feed store is family owned and family operated. they still say "Yes ma'am and No ma'am"
A phone call will get you what you need and if you can't get there by noon on Saturday, they will set it out on the loading dock for you and it will be there when you come for it.
I never feel taken advantage of when I go to my local garage. Scotty knows my name and my car's quirks. If he can't fix my car, he will send me to someone who can.
I moved into a community where practically everyone is related to everyone else either by blood or marriage. Land here has been in the same family for generations, sometimes the original home place still stands but more often that not, only the remains of a homeplace hang on. I am not related to anyone but after several years of living here, you would not know it.
Our community is like grandmother's quilt, handed down, pieced together from various scraps and trimmings, colorful and sturdy.
Some of my neighbors are loggers and farmers. They follow a well-worn path of family tradition. They are intelligent and thoughtful men and women who also have college degrees and a strong sense of purpose. I count attorneys, paramendics& college professors as neighbors. I also count talented successful craftsmen who can weld the break of day or fashion a baby cradle from the old black walnut down in the back pasture.
We are community and we are blessed. City sister should have such riches.
Friday, December 24, 2010
All I want for Christmas is Rain
Christmas Eve this year puts me in mind of one very special christmas eve many years ago. It is raining now, but then it was snow that was falling. The outside lights created a dramatic backdrop for the snow silently falling on the texas hills. That year most of the family was delayed in arriving at the "farm" , Mom was already in bed, Pop was watching the late night news and weather. I was in the kitchen finishing up the baking for the following day.
for many years I had heard the stories of Pop putting himself thru college by playing his horn. Once he told me that his church going organ playing mother would have had a stroke if she knew about the speakeasies he had played in and the goings on he had witnessed...but that horn put him thru college and got him an engineering degree. Pop told very entertaining stories about those days and I had often asked him to play his horn for me, always getting a shake of the head and the lament that it had been just too many years. Others in the family played for University marching bands....high school bands of national renown...a granddaughter became a music teacher.
Pop began this line of musicians but I had never heard him play and I so longed for that.
This particular christmas eve as I was finishing up in the kitchen, I heard the sliding glass door open onto the deck. Given that it was quite cold, I was surprised that Pop would go out on the deck. I stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window watching the snow silently fall, thinking about the final things that needed to be done before I could go to bed. It was then that I heard the first tentative notes of a horn. a hesitant start gave way to more confident notes forming the song Silent Night. It was the most incredible moment as I realized that Pop was playing his horn. One song ended and another began, a lively boogie woogie tune from the 40's...followed bySilent Night again...this time confidently played notes danced on the snowflakes falling in those Texas hills. Pure magic! Pop crossed the deck outside and went ih the Master suite via the door on that end of the porch.
I stood at the sink, tears cascading down my face as I realized that I had just received the most precious gift I had ever received. Pop gave a bit of himself that christmas. I will never forget it...years have passed yet the magic of the moment is as strong as ever.
Christmas Morning as we all gathered, Pop gave me a little wink and a nod, Santa Claus in person. We never spoke of it, it was as if we both knew it would ruin the magic of the moment.
So rain still falls tonight on the texas hills where I live and it seems, for just the barest of moments, that I can hear the notes of a boogie woogie horn. Merry christmas to all
for many years I had heard the stories of Pop putting himself thru college by playing his horn. Once he told me that his church going organ playing mother would have had a stroke if she knew about the speakeasies he had played in and the goings on he had witnessed...but that horn put him thru college and got him an engineering degree. Pop told very entertaining stories about those days and I had often asked him to play his horn for me, always getting a shake of the head and the lament that it had been just too many years. Others in the family played for University marching bands....high school bands of national renown...a granddaughter became a music teacher.
Pop began this line of musicians but I had never heard him play and I so longed for that.
This particular christmas eve as I was finishing up in the kitchen, I heard the sliding glass door open onto the deck. Given that it was quite cold, I was surprised that Pop would go out on the deck. I stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window watching the snow silently fall, thinking about the final things that needed to be done before I could go to bed. It was then that I heard the first tentative notes of a horn. a hesitant start gave way to more confident notes forming the song Silent Night. It was the most incredible moment as I realized that Pop was playing his horn. One song ended and another began, a lively boogie woogie tune from the 40's...followed bySilent Night again...this time confidently played notes danced on the snowflakes falling in those Texas hills. Pure magic! Pop crossed the deck outside and went ih the Master suite via the door on that end of the porch.
I stood at the sink, tears cascading down my face as I realized that I had just received the most precious gift I had ever received. Pop gave a bit of himself that christmas. I will never forget it...years have passed yet the magic of the moment is as strong as ever.
Christmas Morning as we all gathered, Pop gave me a little wink and a nod, Santa Claus in person. We never spoke of it, it was as if we both knew it would ruin the magic of the moment.
So rain still falls tonight on the texas hills where I live and it seems, for just the barest of moments, that I can hear the notes of a boogie woogie horn. Merry christmas to all
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Each year I seem to reflect more and more on Christmas past....the year we moved from the snowy Kansas prarie to Houston Texas, where humidity and short sleeves ruled. The 3 older girls each received roller skates and we spent the entire day outside on the sidewalks using them. As I recall we could scarcely walk the next day. There was the Christmas of 1966, our first christmas without daddy; we had an aluminum tree with the color wheel(gosh that dates me). One boyfriend made a very memorable Christmas for me (ahhh, young love); A christmas where I got to experience the wonder of the holidays in the eyes of my oldest son. Keeping his hands off the tree proved an impossible task. Cutting a tree down became mandatory several short years later as did going to the farm for the holidays. I was very pregnant another christmas and could scarcely waddle, that year I had asked for a waffle iron and got a diamond necklace instead; legos in the stocking became a standard for the boys, Starwars toys gave way to guns and truck keys. My granddaughter is 13 this year, quite the young lady and visiting with Nana and PaPa; all too soon college, boyfriends and career will have her in places far from here.
Mom passed away november of 2009 but she was much in my thoughts as I did my christmas grocery shopping. Mom loved to shell pecans. she could spend hours and hours literally picking them out and brushing them clean. If Mom shelled the pecans you could trust there would be no shells or piths. I recall her sitting in my living room at the table, her pecan processing station, listenuing to tv and cleaning the pecans.
In her later (and failing years) my sister and her husband kept Mom in cracked pecans. When I was young, Mom made divinity that would melt in your mouth....her piecrusts were perfect.
I have had years of Christmas chaos both merry and not so merry as we blended families. This year we had 4 generations of my husbands family in attendance...who would have thought of great grandchildren?
We have been fortunate in our family, no real tragedies to weather and endure. If I could have a christmas wish it would be this: that we could remember why we celebrate christmas, that we could realize that the gift that matters most is selfless, genuine love.. the giving of ourselves. I wish children could know the excitement of getting that one special gift: a BB gun, a bicycle, a beautiful doll and be happy with that one gift; I wish parents would not spend money but rather spend time....and I wish that we could all look up at a starry sky and know we have all received the greatest gift of all......
Mom passed away november of 2009 but she was much in my thoughts as I did my christmas grocery shopping. Mom loved to shell pecans. she could spend hours and hours literally picking them out and brushing them clean. If Mom shelled the pecans you could trust there would be no shells or piths. I recall her sitting in my living room at the table, her pecan processing station, listenuing to tv and cleaning the pecans.
In her later (and failing years) my sister and her husband kept Mom in cracked pecans. When I was young, Mom made divinity that would melt in your mouth....her piecrusts were perfect.
I have had years of Christmas chaos both merry and not so merry as we blended families. This year we had 4 generations of my husbands family in attendance...who would have thought of great grandchildren?
We have been fortunate in our family, no real tragedies to weather and endure. If I could have a christmas wish it would be this: that we could remember why we celebrate christmas, that we could realize that the gift that matters most is selfless, genuine love.. the giving of ourselves. I wish children could know the excitement of getting that one special gift: a BB gun, a bicycle, a beautiful doll and be happy with that one gift; I wish parents would not spend money but rather spend time....and I wish that we could all look up at a starry sky and know we have all received the greatest gift of all......
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Dually Too
My husband and I are "owned" by a Chocolate Lab named Dually Too. We picked him up from Piney Woods Kennels in Lufkin Texas. We were quite impressed with the operation down there, it is NOT a puppy mill, rather they breed working dogs with a great deal of intellegence, if our dog is any measure.
Dually goes everywhere we go. I do some part time office work for a neighbor who operates several trucks. These trucks are parked in the corner of the back pasture close to the office. In this pasture is a horse named Toby. He is a buckskin quarter horse and really smart. He and Dually have made friends, they sniff noses, Dually jumps around and barks, Toby bucks and kicks and races around, then they come back togather and repeat the process. This is really funny to watch. When Dually has to "load up" in the back of our one ton truck, Toby does his best to get in too. I really beleive he would follow Dually home if we let him out the gate. Toby would follow me into the small portable building which is the office if I would let him. I made the mistake of taking him apples once, now he is sure that I have a treat every time I show up. (which I usually do, have a treat that is). Both Toby and Dually just want to figure out what we want then they try to do it. They are genuine in their affection and happy to see us whenver we come. Wish I could say that about people. These two characters make my life happier, I look forward to seeing them, to surprising them with some little treat or game, Toby always follows us all the way out to the last gate, hoping for one last pet or rub. Like Dually he recognizes the sound our Dodge Diesel Dually makes and runs for the gate to meet us. I get a great deal of pleasure watching him in that "rocking chair lope" of his.
Life is full of simple little pleasures, Toby and Duallly playing togather is one of my favorites.
Dually goes everywhere we go. I do some part time office work for a neighbor who operates several trucks. These trucks are parked in the corner of the back pasture close to the office. In this pasture is a horse named Toby. He is a buckskin quarter horse and really smart. He and Dually have made friends, they sniff noses, Dually jumps around and barks, Toby bucks and kicks and races around, then they come back togather and repeat the process. This is really funny to watch. When Dually has to "load up" in the back of our one ton truck, Toby does his best to get in too. I really beleive he would follow Dually home if we let him out the gate. Toby would follow me into the small portable building which is the office if I would let him. I made the mistake of taking him apples once, now he is sure that I have a treat every time I show up. (which I usually do, have a treat that is). Both Toby and Dually just want to figure out what we want then they try to do it. They are genuine in their affection and happy to see us whenver we come. Wish I could say that about people. These two characters make my life happier, I look forward to seeing them, to surprising them with some little treat or game, Toby always follows us all the way out to the last gate, hoping for one last pet or rub. Like Dually he recognizes the sound our Dodge Diesel Dually makes and runs for the gate to meet us. I get a great deal of pleasure watching him in that "rocking chair lope" of his.
Life is full of simple little pleasures, Toby and Duallly playing togather is one of my favorites.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Rummy Box
When I was a little girl my mom had a round tin box that she kept extra buttons in. The box said Butter Rum on the top; I am not sure what was originally in the box, but for as long as I can remember, that box held salvaged buttons, zippers, snaps and thimbles.
That box made a magical sound when Mom picked it up; we were never allowed to touch it, but if we were around when Mom had it open, she would let us look insid., We could use our fingers to move the buttons around and see how many different kinds there were. Mom could tell you where each and every button or snap came from. There were buckles from dress belts, zippers rolled up and secured with straight pin, little bows cut from dresses we had outgrown, seam bindings, bits of lace,cards of new buttons for a project that she was working on, and thimbles, treasures all. Each of us remember that box, we remember Mom searching for just the right button to replace a lost one..she always seemed to find what she needed in that box.
My sister, Kathy, has that box now. I am not certain when she got it, I believe Mom gave it to her and rightly so as sister Kathy is an accomplished seamstress and quilter. Recently I sent her some tops and asked her to a very different kind of treasure. Mom's industry and thriftiness live on in all the things inside That my sister used something from the box to make an apron for me is quite special. A piece of Mom lives on in all her daughters, most especially "sew" in my seamstress sister Kathy.
That box made a magical sound when Mom picked it up; we were never allowed to touch it, but if we were around when Mom had it open, she would let us look insid., We could use our fingers to move the buttons around and see how many different kinds there were. Mom could tell you where each and every button or snap came from. There were buckles from dress belts, zippers rolled up and secured with straight pin, little bows cut from dresses we had outgrown, seam bindings, bits of lace,cards of new buttons for a project that she was working on, and thimbles, treasures all. Each of us remember that box, we remember Mom searching for just the right button to replace a lost one..she always seemed to find what she needed in that box.
My sister, Kathy, has that box now. I am not certain when she got it, I believe Mom gave it to her and rightly so as sister Kathy is an accomplished seamstress and quilter. Recently I sent her some tops and asked her to a very different kind of treasure. Mom's industry and thriftiness live on in all the things inside That my sister used something from the box to make an apron for me is quite special. A piece of Mom lives on in all her daughters, most especially "sew" in my seamstress sister Kathy.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Deer Lease Thanksgiving
Practically every thanksgiving we spend part or all of the holiday on the deer lease. This entails a 4+ hour trip and the packing of travel trailers, motorhomes etc.(before you get any ideas, our motorhome is a little 90 model Class C in mint condition that my hubby bought for a song)This year it also entailed our son bringing out everything needed to fry a turkey. Not only was the turkey beautiful, but it was possibly the best turkey we have ever had. This particular son went out of his way to do this for the family..pretty neat that he and his wife went to such effort for the rest of us.
We all look forward to the "lease" This year our 10 year old grandson shot his first deer. Big event for him and for us. His dad had bought him a nice rifle, they had come over to our house to sight it in...family involvement in the whole process. He made a good shot&the deer dropped practically in his tracks. Colton has been around guns and hunting since he was born. He respects the capabilities of any gun and is careful. We do not hide our guns from our children, rather we teach them about them. Part of that teaching is not letting them handle a gun until they have reached an age where we are sure they have the abilities necessary in the use of a gun. This is much the same as letting them around our vehicles. They are around them, in them, but we do not give them the keys to drive until they have those abilities. In all activities, we SUPERVISE. We hunt and we eat what we harvest.
Often we will pass up a shot at a buck with a nice rack in favor of taking a long spike...which is not to say that we wouldn't take a trophy buck.
We use the lease year round. Getting ready for deer season, gettng ready for dove or turkey season, camping and just getting away. We have so many stories about things that happened out at the lease. One night, many years ago, we all sat up watching a star that would get so very bright, then almost fade away...pulsing. I picked up a newspaper on our way home and found that the star was front page news in the Dallas paper, seems it was a star going SuperNova...and we had the opportunity to see it. The kids sat up with us imagining what was going on, it was a very special time. There is the story about my youngest son shooting his first turkey, another about videoing a monster buck but not shooting it....many memories have been made "out a the lease".
This may be going by the wayside like so many other things these days. Hunting has become very expensive. We are watching our dollars closely, making adjustments to income. One of those adjustments may be not retaining the deer lease, and that is a shame. The lease is more than hunting, or camping...it is a family event a retreat, a place where we show our children things that are important to us....teamwork, preparation, follow thru, support of each other, how to have a good time without electronics, how good a hot dog tastes roasted over an open flame, how not to burn a marshmallow, why we leave the land better than we found it, respect for the land and the animals that live there. There may be other ways to do this, I am pretty sure there are, but I know this: I am going to miss going out to the "lease".
We all look forward to the "lease" This year our 10 year old grandson shot his first deer. Big event for him and for us. His dad had bought him a nice rifle, they had come over to our house to sight it in...family involvement in the whole process. He made a good shot&the deer dropped practically in his tracks. Colton has been around guns and hunting since he was born. He respects the capabilities of any gun and is careful. We do not hide our guns from our children, rather we teach them about them. Part of that teaching is not letting them handle a gun until they have reached an age where we are sure they have the abilities necessary in the use of a gun. This is much the same as letting them around our vehicles. They are around them, in them, but we do not give them the keys to drive until they have those abilities. In all activities, we SUPERVISE. We hunt and we eat what we harvest.
Often we will pass up a shot at a buck with a nice rack in favor of taking a long spike...which is not to say that we wouldn't take a trophy buck.
We use the lease year round. Getting ready for deer season, gettng ready for dove or turkey season, camping and just getting away. We have so many stories about things that happened out at the lease. One night, many years ago, we all sat up watching a star that would get so very bright, then almost fade away...pulsing. I picked up a newspaper on our way home and found that the star was front page news in the Dallas paper, seems it was a star going SuperNova...and we had the opportunity to see it. The kids sat up with us imagining what was going on, it was a very special time. There is the story about my youngest son shooting his first turkey, another about videoing a monster buck but not shooting it....many memories have been made "out a the lease".
This may be going by the wayside like so many other things these days. Hunting has become very expensive. We are watching our dollars closely, making adjustments to income. One of those adjustments may be not retaining the deer lease, and that is a shame. The lease is more than hunting, or camping...it is a family event a retreat, a place where we show our children things that are important to us....teamwork, preparation, follow thru, support of each other, how to have a good time without electronics, how good a hot dog tastes roasted over an open flame, how not to burn a marshmallow, why we leave the land better than we found it, respect for the land and the animals that live there. There may be other ways to do this, I am pretty sure there are, but I know this: I am going to miss going out to the "lease".
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