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That evening when John came
home, Zona told him about the orphan child’s grandparents who had come for
her.
“I surely did hate to see
the little thing go but they looked like fine folks and seemed pleased to
have their grand baby. It will have a chance to grow up with its own kin.
I’m thankful for that and they were too.”
“I’m proud to see you takin’
this so well, Zona.” John praised his wife in the customary way the family
had of encouraging each other in times of adversity or sadness.*
“While we’re thinking about
this,” John was changing the subject “there’s another orphan in the
family.” Little Dee, my younger brother is staying mostly with Uncle Dan
since Dad and Mother passed away, but everyone will have to chip-in to
help.
‘Little Dee was very small
and some said he was a bit slow but that was no problem. The family was
grooming him to do the best with what he was. They even joked about the
dilemma as was their way of coping with unsolvable things, perplexing to
them.’
“You know he’s a bit slow?”
John looked toward Zona to get her reaction.
“Matter of opinion,” I
would say. Zona wasn’t going to comment on that.
“He was resting on the
floor in front of the fireplace when he said to Uncle Dan, ‘Turn me over,
Uncle Dan, I’m a burnin’. “Everyone laughed about it.” John smiled as he
related the story to Zona.
‘As with tidbits of
information passed down orally sometimes a statement that is no more than
a simple observation can become valuable in unraveling important
information regarding family lineage.
The uncertainty of the
names of grandparents was an issue in our family. Why did a grandson
insist his grandfather’s name was Dan and not William Stephens? It could
have been the amount of pressure on the family due to the terror of the
times. The lawless early days of Oklahoma saw their family as lawmen as
well as Indian agents and it was during a time when even some of the
pillars of the community were suspect in their dealings. Their father,
William’s son, may have tried to protect his children by giving out
erroneous information regarding, who the grandparents were even though the
name was clearly written in an old Bible as William Stephens Jones beside
his wife’s name of Mary Ann. My Dad outrightly stated his grandfather was
Dan Jones. According to well-established records on Federal censuses the
grandfather’s name was not Dan but was without a doubt, William Stephens
Jones and, of course, as mentioned, there was the family Bible. The mix-up
caused a difficulty, at first, in tracing family history.’
This small bit of oral
history, “Turn me over, UNCLE Dan,” was the key to know that Little Dee,
their brother, called Dan, Uncle. William Stephen’s did have a brother,
Dan, which, of course, would not have been our grandfather. Today, the
saving of oral history has become an important thing to do with archivists
and I, for one, am happy with that.’
*Authors’ note: In 1988 I
made a search for this person who was that baby with the thought that the
woman could give me valuable information if she could be found. There was
a woman living at Ralston, Oklahoma who had the same name, Helen Bullock.
She was an elderly woman and living alone in a tiny, travel trailer. I
tried to communicate with her but she either would not or could not
respond. Her facial expressions told me that she knew of what I was
speaking but she never spoke. Her pitiful living conditions and sad
looking eyes made me back away. Someone in the town may have known her
history but I wasn’t able to find anyone at the time who did. |
