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Filtering down through time
were the old stories of the terrible struggles the men in the family had
in order to settle unconquered land. Dad's grandfather was the first
lawman who worked for the federal government. He was an agent who
delivered food to the Osage. The Indians had been transplanted from
Missouri to the tight quarters of the hard rock hills around Bartlesville,
Oklahoma. They were in desperate circumstances because this had placed
them in an area which was foreign to them. The attitude of the population
was going to the quote, “the only good Indian is a dead Indian.”
Through these circumstances
Dad's grandfather had to work in order to deliver food to them via a
wagon. His son's and brothers rode shotgun on the wagon with him. One
brother, Seaborn Jack, and a son, Seberno (Seib) was shot and killed.
Another brother of great grandfather was hung by a mob of ranchers who
didn't want the Indians on the land. Great granddad's daughter, Dora, was
doused with kerosene and torched. Seib's wife was so traumatized she ran
with the baby to Texas and family. There she was suffering from poverty
and hardship. Our own grandfather, Joe, who was Seib's brother, and Uncle
to Dee, walked to Texas and walked back to Bartlesville. He carried the
small child, Dee, on his shoulders all the way back.
Dee grew up and became
listed as one of Oklahoma's early day jockeys. He was a tiny little
person. They were small people but evidently his earliest days of near
starvation had stunted his growth. Never mind that. He made lemonade out
of lemons.
When some of those around
get to fidgeting because they don't have the easy money coming down the
tube from the oil companies, right away it is time to get rid of more of
the luxuries around. Once it was such a battle she went to the driving of
an old pick up truck a rancher friend had willed to her. “Sometimes, it
works, sometimes, it doesn't. Sooner or later the message comes
through.” Dee muttered to Chelsea, her friend.
These were the things
Chelsea and Dee were discussing while they tried to even out the erratic
push pull of the world upon them during the day by enjoying some time over
coffee and conversation.
“I'll be blast if I move an
inch from some of the yeah-yeah stuff going around.” Dee was relaxed and
could easily drop into Oklahoma slang with her friend.
“Oh well.” Chelsea always
had her mind on something more productive. “What do you think of the new
paint job on my old house?”
“It is lovely. White,
white it is. I love those dark foliage plants and the bright lime green
plants on the porch. What are those bright green one's called?”
“Would you believe that is
a variety of sweet potato?”
“Well! Is it really? Who
would have thought of using something like that for ornamentals?” Dee
loved to see new and different things being done in any field but
especially with landscaping.
“Jimbo started one of those
pony tail plants from just a sprig. It grew too big for his house and we
put it on my patio. Today, I put it in a larger pot, moved it to the
corner of the entry room and it looks so elegant. Probably, would cost
around three hundred for a exotic plant like that, and he did it with just
patience and tender loving care.”
“Really, there is no paying
for what Jimbo does for us as a family. How did we heir such a wonderful
friend?”
“Treat him well. Believe
me, maintenance is an issue.” Chelsea signed.
Dee knew the woman was
well acquainted with that issue too as she went about her daily regimen in
caring for the sprawling apartment complex.
“Wonder what Great grand
Dad would think of our not being able to cope with our piddly mundane
daily goings on?” Dee had to chuckle at some of the things they struggled
through which were just that.
“Not much! I'm sure.
Especially, since we don't have to have someone ride shotgun while we do
our job.” |
