Time to Blog about Finding Family

This will not be news to bloggers but it has become abundantly apparent to this writer that if you are having life experiences that might be worth writing about, you do not have time to write about them. And of course the opposite being that if there is time, what is there to say!

If you follow my blog at all, you can tell I have been having lots and lots of life experiences this spring...... or none at all..... since I haven't written about a thing lately.

I'll admit to being really busy but will try to focus on just one thing. Just got back from a business trip to Phoenix but was lucky enough to have one free day to pursue my own interests. And I chose to look up and visit some long lost relatives that I had never met in person...... my father's first cousin Gertrude who is 95, and her son, an amazing artist. 

First I'll talk about visiting with Gertrude. She has spent most of her life in the Phoenix area but did visit Kansas relatives for long periods of time as a young girl and young woman. She was able to tell me tidbits about my paternal grandparents (who were gone before I was born) and great-uncles and great-aunts of that era. Things you'll not find in old newspaper articles or the census reports. I was thrilled. And I hope it was a good experience for her as well. She lives in her own home but has some health issues so has an attendant person who was very friendly. Having artists for children, her house is a virtual gallery. My two hours with her were not nearly enough to take it all in. And of course I thought of more questions to ask after I left. Her hearing is not the greatest so I'm not sure how comfortable she would be with me asking them over the phone. Perhaps I can write.... an old-fashioned paper and ink letter, for a change.

One of the things she talked about was my Great-uncle Vernon who was a doctor and had a big house on the beach in California. I never met him. When she was a child she said the Arizona summers were so hot, it being before air conditioning, that they spent a lot of time visiting him and other relatives in California. Aunt Eddie Hines (my grand-father's sister) and her husband Frank also had a house there at that time. Aunt Eddie is one I've never know much about so it was like meeting a new set of people I'd never known. She talked about staying with Aunt Eddie in Manhattan as a young child but the household was uninspiring for a youngster.... no other children to play with.... restrictions to certain parts of the house. There were two staircases and Gertrude was not to use the front stairs. She much preferred to go to the farm where Aunt Bertha had children she could play with. And she said Aunt Eddie seemed happy to have her there as well.

She said others in the family didn't care too much for Eddie's husband, Frank, probably because he was very successful. But Uncle Frank liked Gertrude and treated her with a coin and a wink whenever they met. 

About Gertrude's son, my second cousin Ed Mell. He is a well-known artist in Arizona with a distinctive style that is easily recognized. His work is in large oils and in sculpture, and can be found in the galleries of Scottsdale's art district among other places. There are posters of his Grand Canyon Music Festival work available at art poster places. I stumbled onto his work when browsing thru a museum bookstore back in the '90s. Saw this art book with work I found to my liking but I didn't know the artist. While leafing thru the pages, what should I see but the mention of his mother Gertrude Sargent. While I did not know the person, I certainly knew the name, as my parents had talked of her and her brother when I was growing up. Closer inspection showed a photo that includes my great-grandmother who, to my knowledge, I had never seen in any photo before. Its taken me over ten years but I've finally gotten to meet Ed.... both a relative I didn't know I had, and an artist whose work I admire.

A bonus of the day was getting to visit Ed's studio and to meet a friend of his, another artist Gary Smith from Utah, a very nice gentleman as well. 

Ed's brother Lee is deceased and brother Frank is in ill health so I've waited too long to meet them.

I suppose there should be a moral or something to all this. I guess it would be.... if you're at all interested in the people of your grandparents generation, don't put off visiting those who knew them, back when. And there might be a bonus in meeting some very interesting relatives of your own generation as well. What a thrill it is for me... maybe it would be for you as well.

Thinking 'Bout History

I'm mildly interested in local history, local being a lot of Kansas. I'm a member of True West's Blog Page or whatever they call it. I got there by way of following Bob Boze Bell's personal blog, which is a story for another day.

A lot of the blogs and entries there are in relation to Western history. Which has caused me to revive some of my own thoughts on the subject. I own land in northwest Kansas that was part of the site of Kansas' Last Indian Raid in 1878. 

When I first heard that Oberlin was the site of that raid, I envisioned the Indians (native Americans if you will) in a concentrated group sweeping down into a small little town. It wasn't that way at all. They rode down in small groups from the south following various draws to the Sappa Creek, southwest of Oberlin some 8-12 miles, attacking the settlers on their individual homesteads and ranches. I've often tried to imagine as I fixed fence or baled hay what it was like to be out working in your fields and lots (it was late September, harvest or late haying time I would suppose) and have riders come down over the hills. 

I understand some settlers escaped trouble by hiding in wild plum bushes on the banks of the creek and in brush piles.  At a ranch on the creek near my property several women were taken captive and "ravished" as the reports put it. One account told of choking the baby to silence it, not enough to kill it, just until it passed out, only to have to repeat it when it started to regain its ability to cry out. Not pleasant thoughts! But not movie plots either. 

Being out on the land where you can be removed from many signs of "progress", no electric lines or roads if you position yourself just right, you can try to imagine what it was like. All told, some 40 settlers were killed, but scattered out over a fairly large area.  

Two men were killed on creek hay ground I once owned so I was close to that happening when I baled. My big pasture which is further up Colvin's draw from the main creek was not noted for any killings, only the land below it.

I was told an interesting story about that place (my pasture) but have since been told it probably didn't happen. Still it makes such a good story.

There is a square 2-story stone house there, since falling down but still standing when I went to NW Kansas 40 years ago. Supposedly the man of the family was gone but the wife and children boarded themselves into the lower level kitchen. When she heard one of the party climb onto the roof to cover the chimney and smoke them out, she knocked the stovepipe aside and fired the rifle up the chimney, shooting him through the hand. They rode away.

I understand however that this story is told about raids in other locations. 

A bit of background as I have read it. This was a part of the Cheyenne's effort to return to their homelands from the Oklahoma reservation they had been taken to. I have heard but am not certain, that no settlers were killed until the Indians got to Sappa Creek. It seems that in 1875, one of their groups had been camped on the Sappa in what is now Cheyenne county, west of where my land is some 20 miles I think. They were attacked at daybreak and killed indiscriminantly including women and children. It was thought the attacks in '78 were in retaliation for that unfortunate incident.

Reading actual reports of those times that are available at the museum in Oberlin make it much more real, more so than seeing a movie I think. They are the words of people who were really there.

A recent comment in the True West blogs said a lot of places don't convey their history, that the old buildings and trappings of the West are swept away. Which is somewhat true I guess. But it seems to me you have to seek out history, study it, then try to find the spots where you can re-enact it in your mind a little. It won't be buried in the present day downtown where today's people are trying to make a living. But you can still find it out in those draws and hills.

Thought for the day

Just read this in an e-mail...... 

We often try to fix problems with WD-40 and duct tape.

God did it with nails.

Movies of note

Other bloggers I read mention favorite movies they've seen recently or in the past. Today, one was talking of dialogue sequences that she finds extremely romantic. 

An interesting piece (I won't go so far as to call it my fav) that I have in my small little library of VCRs, is an old old Richard Gere & Sam Shepard movie called Days of Heaven. Can't even remember how I got onto it, know I had to order it special order someplace, but I was not disappointed. And its not for the romance, or the characters or the plot. Its because of the setting. An old time harvest crew on the prairies supposed to be  the 1916 Texas panhandle, I think it was filmed in Alberta if I remember correctly. There are rolling fields of ripe wheat which are thrashed by hand using large crews of migrant European immigrant types that come in by train. Having been raised in the era of combines, I only heard about thrashing from the old folks of my time and found this portrayal of the actual practice, especially with crews that were not made up of only neighbors to be very interesting.  The plot is sort of disgusting but if you can get past that, you can learn a lot from it. 

Workin' Cattle

My office mate is taking off a few hours next week to help work cattle. Believe it or not, I'm a little envious! Working cattle was something I took pride in once upon a time.  But we didn't do it cowboy style. It was a quieter get-er-done style.

First was the gathering and bringing in.  For the most part it wasn't done on horseback. It was more apt to be done with a pickup load of feed for bait and a few strategically placed people on foot or horseback (this was pre-four-wheelers) to block escape routes. The truck driver needed a strong voice to  call 'em in; every caller I ever knew had his or her own style but the trick is that the cattle have to know it means feed.  

Then once they were in the lot, you relied on gates and fences, plus a little more voice work and some instinct for thinking like a cow. Some of the voice work was calling, but more of it was encouraging the herd to move ahead of you. Stockmen I have seen vary on whether they use voice or not. Some don't like the voice cause it riles up the herd. But I always figured a little use at the appropriate time helped, just so you didn't over do it. And if the herd knew the voice was a plus. Some talking to 'em seemed to get them a little familiar with you and somewhat accepting.

Working cattle on foot works if the herd is used to seeing men on foot. I've seen cattle shipped in from the open range that had never seen a man off a horse, and they went plumb loco at the sight.  Kind of like sending a country boy to the big city - its a scary experience.

Styles of sorting cattle vary but I always preferred to work with one other person that was used to working with me. The two of us with an easy going dog (not a specially trained one) could do more with a little patience and some good body English than a whole raft of cowboys on horseback. Not that we didn't have use for those cowboys on occasion. For instance if a wily critter went to a neighbor's pasture, especially if it was a young bull, hiring a good cowboy on a good horse was worth it. But for the most part, our horses were more for our pleasure than for stirring up the herd. Course, that couldn't have anything to do with our cowboyin' abilities, could it?

Might change for the next generation: my 9-yr-old grandson has taken up roping in junior rodeo. Now when his dad has a sick calf in the pen that he can't catch, he goes and finds son to come rope it for him.  Way to go, Brody!

Even so, one of my favorite stock paper cartoons was of 2 fellas watching a pot-bellied old codger with a bag of feed on his shoulder leading some cattle across the pens. The caption: Joe can do more with a 50 pound bag of feed than 6 cowboys on horseback.  

Yes, there's more than one way to work cattle and I suppose whatever fits your situation is the right way. Right?

Christian Guilt

I heard somewhere recently (some tv commentary, don't remember who) that guilt is a Judeo-Christian concept. Which reminded me of an acquaintance I once knew who was lamenting having not spent more time with a recently deceased loved one. I said not to feel guilty and he said he didn't ever feel guilty; that was something for Christians. Which brought me up short. One, this meant he was not a Christian. How sad. But also, why should I feel guilt as a Christian? Wouldn't I feel guilt even if I didn't believe in Christ as my Savior? I didn't get it.

Now some years later I have a bit more insight into that concept. Not to say I completely get it but here's what I think. Because of the way we are taught as children and because of how we are wired as human beings, we think we should be "good".... better.... better than others, better than we are, just better.  And we kick ourselves because we can't get there.  And feel guilty.

Now we know from the Bible that we can never be free from sin. Or perfect. So we are beaten before we even start. Then we feel guilty because we can't do it.

I think this guilt keeps us from embracing the most basic of Christian beliefs. Christ died to take all those imperfections we can't correct. And He loves us, warts and all. And He won't give us brownie points for trying to be "better". So, if we really believe in Christ and our relationship with Him, are we not questioning His love for us if we allow ourselves to feel guilt for our imperfections? If we are to be Christ-like, shouldn't we love ourselves as we are instead of beat ourselves up for what we aren't?

Now don't get me wrong. I'm sure God wants us to try, just so we'll feel uplifted and so we can have others be lifted up as well. After all, if we are to love others as Christ loves us, we will want to make things as good as possible on His behalf..... for them...... and for ourselves.

But I also think we should be wary of going for "better" if it is going to make us appear to be better than our neighbors. God loves us just the way we are, and He loves them that way, also. So shouldn't our neighbors see that in us? Not see us trying to be "better" all the time? How can they understand He will take them as they are if we don't demonstrate we have been taken that way already?

Christ's love for me was the hardest part for me to get. I'm not going to let it be ruined by my guilt.

God, I know I'm guilty of sin, but I also know you took that sin. Thank you! Thank you for loving me just the way I am.

Christmas Post Update

For those of you who may have already read about the Christmas decorations at our church, I've updated that post with an excellent picture of Grandma Elsie playing at Christmas time. I can say that because I didn't take it; a fellow church member did. I asked him to share it electronically and he graciously agreed. So I'm sharing it with all of you.

I'll bet she's playing a keyboard in Heaven!