My Cousin Gary

It occurs to me that an entire volume or two could be written, just about the adventures shared between Cousin Gary and myself. The first time we met was around my second birthday. We lived in Olney, Illinois. A whole slew of family appeared about that time to visit, including Sandie, Cheryl, and Gary. I learned I had a huge extended family living back in Texas, and judging from photos taken, we had a grand time.

A couple of years later, we moved to Tyler, and I began to see more of my family. I'd spend a few weeks in summer with cousin Gary and he would come see me as well. Early on, we were going just about everywhere when we got together. I can recall us getting on our bikes and riding from Irving to West Dallas. Imagine kids doing that today? We'd head out in the morning, get back around supper time, then go back out, sometimes not getting home till quite late.

As teenagers sometimes we would go help Uncle J.B. lay tile. When we could drive, there came to be a hard and fast rule between the two of us. We did not go anywhere without getting stuck or having car trouble. It happened with such regularity it became quite a joke. Such as the time we were driving from the airport and the car ran out of gas on the freeway. We had to run across the freeway to go down and call someone to bring us some gasoline.

Or how about the time we were driving in the Trinity River bottom? Now it was a dry summer, and we are heading out across a pasture with a cloud of dust behind us it was so dry. Suddenly THUMP and we were buried to the axle in mud. Out here in this dry baron field, a water line had busted and of course we found it and had to get someone pull us out.

Some years later another adventure. It was in the early seventies and we had driven across the country. We stopped in Los Angeles to visit Cousin Lannie. He took us to a couple of gay bars, but we were all too intoxicated to notice. Then we stopped at a Dennys. A group of drag queens were there, and we began laughing hysterically at their jokes. One came over to talk to us.

"Where are you all from?" she said.

"Dallas," Gary and Susie replied and I added "Tyler."

"Omg! You are from Tyler? I grew up there and my momma lives there. On Border Street!"

It was great fun, they put on a show right there in the restaurant even as several trucker types grumbled at the counter. Later we went back to Lannie's place of business where his partner was right where we left him. Standing at the counter of the print shop, resting on his hand sound asleep snoring. I've never seen anyone before who could sleep like that standing up.

Our group went on to Disneyland. On the way, exhausted and hung over, we stopped by the beach, laid out our bags and went to sleep. When I awoke, I realized I had made a really bad mistake. Lil Miss Blondie here had second degree sunburns on her face on one side. The other side was faced downward and was still white as white can be. At Disneyland, children would grab their mommies when they saw me. Ever so often, feeling a bit impish I would grrrr at them. Their screams were so precious.

Then to San Francisco, after which we decided to make the drive right through back to Irving. On and on we drove, through the mountains up to the Continental Divide. We heard a funny grinding noise, but kept driving on in Gary's GTO. Down we went into the plains, through Oklahoma, then into Texas. AS we neared Boyd, Texas, the inevitable breakdown took place. That funny grinding sound was the bearings, and the left axle broke leaving us with no brakes at all. Coasting over to the side of the road, we came to a stop. Gary and I walked into town and found the owner of the auto parts store, then headed back. I'm no good at mechanics but he was and he set to work there on the side of the highway replacing the axle and bearings, his butt sticking out into the lane of traffic.

I stood out to wave cars over. Along came a woman, the rising sun in her eyes, and oblivious to me or the car or Gary kneeling there working. I jumped up and down and screamed at her. She noticed at the last minute and swerved. I dove for the ditch, and her car missed Gary's butt by about a foot. He was so absorbed (and no doubt exhausted) that he never noticed a thing.

We had many other adventures together as well. We camped in Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, and around Texas. We often took vacations at the same time. Perhaps some other tales of the two of us will surface from time to time. As well as adventures with my other cousins too, like Sandie and Kirby and others too.

Lakehouse Reunions

I sat in front of my computer trying to decide what I would write about today. Closing my eyes, memories came forth of family reunions on my mother's side. A smile crossed my face and I knew this would be the subject for today. While not exactly the same every time, here is generally how it would work. My dad would announce he had a two week vacation. We understood it would not be the full two weeks, because invariably into the second week he'd get a call to come back to work, and we would have to pack up and leave. But for little over a week, we would be together as family.

On more than one occasion, Mom would call her brother and ask if we could stay at his family cabin at the lakes. Let me explain. He along with his brothers had purchased a sizable portion of land outside of Newton, Texas near Jasper. The family lived mostly in Newton and Leesville, Louisiana about 50 miles away. The word would spread. Often my aunt Mary in Pine Bluff would then come down to take another room in the cabin with us. The weekend would be a family reunion.

Now this is no small family. Mom had several brothers. Claude was the one she contacted. But there was also W.L., Mickey, and Bill. She also had several sisters, including Nolia (pronounce Noh-Lee), Vi, Ethel, Mary, and Jean. Plus their spouses and kids everywhere.

Early in the week it would just be us. Dad would wake us up each morning around 4. We would lay out trout lines, then fish, then run trout lines, then fish some more until the sun was up good. Then we took all our fish back to the club house and clean them outside, and freeze them. On this property there were 6 lakes. One was specifically for skiing, all were good for fishing, and the clubhouse lake had a pier and swimming area as well. Another lake had a series of adjoining cabins not unlike a motel unit where all rooms connect. It also had a pier, but mostly for fishing. The lakes were well stocked. He also raised deer, buffalo, and elk on the land and the property was surrounded by a deer fence. It all was finished off with some pastures for Santa Gertrudis cattle and occasionally some Longhorns.

After cleaning the fish, we would have a huge breakfast, followed by a short nap. Then outside to the lake to swim to our hearts' content. No lifeguards here. This was another time. There was also the stories. Always the stories. We were cautioned not to cast towards the many water moccasins on the lake. "If they get mad at you, they will come right into the boat with you." Whenever we boated past one, I would shutter.

My aunt Nolia lived in a large two story ante-bellum style house near the lakes. We would go visit her and she would invariably serve a giant meal, all home grown. She herself could only eat things like oatmeal since she had no teeth. I can remember the oatmeal on her chin, which she would periodically wipe off. She and her husband Loyce would keep up the property and farm and tend to the animals. They had a wide porch that completely surrounded the house, where we kids would run and play to our heart's content.

One day my cousin Johnny, my little brother, and I walked out into the field where the cattle were. We were oblivious for a time when I looked up and saw the big old bull snorting and pawing. We turned and ran for the fence. We barely made it, tossing my brother literally over the wooden rails before that giant bull running right towards us pulled up and stopped. My uncle ran out and chewed us out good. Then he relaxed a bit. "Lemme tell you something. If you ever have a bull running you down and you can't get out, find a big tree. "

"Climb it?" I asked.

"Nope. see a bull can't turn real fast. To gore you he has to get to you. You can get on the other side of that tree before he does." Funny, all these years later I remember that story. We had our own cattle back in Tyler, but never a mean bull so I never got to use it. Though it does remind me of a funny story with our bull I'll tell another time.

So finally reunion day would be there. What we ate varied. Most often though it was either a fish fry or a crayfish boil. Family was everywhere. It was a hoot listening to my Momma and her family. First though you need some background. They grew up on a small farm in Arkansas. My Momma was the black sheep, getting herself preached into hell when she was 17. She went off on her own and cut her hair short and smoked cigarettes and got a job, back before any decent woman would do any of those things. The family religion was Assemblies of God. Aunt Ethel and her husband A.G. and kids all became evangelists, and Uncle W.L. was a preacher and evangelist as well. All were well versed in Bible. They would spin stories of their childhood, telling the rest of us what saints they were. Then Momma would speak up. "You can lie when you get home, but I know better. Only difference between me and you other hellions was I didn't hide it and pretend to be what I was not."

They would laugh, conceding she probably had a point."You got a point Rachel. You took licks for me more than once." Uncle W.L. would then roar, "but most of the time you had them coming too." Mom would laugh then. They all had loud booming voices and the laughter could be infectious.

The were all in the lumber business, so some talk would go to that. Then it would be time to eat, and someone would be asked to say a prayer and we got to listen to 15 to 20 minutes of prayer interspersed with halleluyahs and praise Jesus's and if we were lucky maybe even some speaking in tongues. Then someone would clear their throat (usually Momma) and there would be the invariable joke about how lunch was going to be supper if this prayer didn't end. Food would be served, then more stories. On occasion another game would be played.

In this game, entire conversations would be carried out, using nothing but quoting Bible passages. I didn't think you could even include a risque joke or bawdy humor this way, but darned if they didn't pull it off. I never took them too seriously because they were family and I knew their poo stank. There would also be lots of singing, something held over from their childhood when Grandma would pull out her guitar and they would sing on the porch back in Arkansas on Sundays to entertain themselves. Of course as soon as possible we kids were making our way to the lake to swim. Some of the older ones would do some skiing as well.

At night, Daddy and I would run some more lines. We always caught lots of fish, and there would be enough to pack up on ice to bring home for several more meals when invariably he got that call from his boss.

Funny thing is I don't fish anymore. I've gotten all soft in my older age and hate to kill them. But it was never about catching fish anyway. It was a time to get away from the city. There is no meditation that can compare sitting in a boat staring out onto the water, listening to the frogs and later the crickets, with no city noises, only the ducks flying overhead or the chirping of birds or occasionally the gobbles of wild turkeys on shore. It was a time when we could watch the passages of the sun, be a family together. We did not get to see our Daddy much growing up, and when he was home he was often tired. During these reunions though we saw another person, one we wanted to see more of. Momma was happier too, home with family, a family she once had to leave those many years before.

Today, who knows what became of the clubhouse and the lakes? I heard rumors some of the kids were fighting over them after our uncles began to die. Whatever happened, in my memory, it is exactly like it was back then, where the children can gather over the summer and family can be renewed. I can't be there of course, because I am today's outcast. But they will never take from me the memories of that time.

A True Buffalo Tale

Today I turned on the news to see increasing violence at town hall meetings and a growing insurgency to strike back. Will the violence continue to grow? Should I write about this? I think not today. Instead my mind drifts back to another time and place. I'm not sure of the date, but I think it was around 1956. It was time for summer vacation, and Daddy had something planned for all of us.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Daddy says, "How would you all like to take a road trip?" Momma looked up a bit surprised.

"Where to?" I ask.

"Perhaps to West Texas and maybe New Mexico. Maybe even detour around by Old Mexico. I've got two weeks coming next month."

Momma seemed okay with it, and my brother and I were excited already. "Will we see the Alamo?" I asked.

Daddy grinned. "Yep, we are going right through San Antonio and that's on the agenda." No child at that time missed the Disney show and a very popular series was "Davy Crockett" starring Fess Parker.

"Daddy?" I asked. "Um... can I eat buffalo meat there?" I guess watching them eating buffalo on television left a real taste in my mouth for it, though I hadn't a clue what it tasted like.

"Hmmm they may serve it. We'll have to see. If they got it, you can order it."

It seemed like no time at all before we were on the road. As was my habit, I watched every twist and turn in the road, asking what was growing in the farm fields along the way. I kept asking, "When do we get to San Antonio?"

Every time Daddy answered, "It's over the hill and around the curve."

One hill and one curve later, "Are we nearly there?"

"Over the hill and around the curve."

After about half a dozen of these I figured out I was being had. I settled back in the seat and slumped over to take a nap.

"Pull over!!" Okay, did I mention that as a child I was very much subject to car sickness? Over they pulled and I jumped out and lost the last meal from a roadside cafe along side the busy highway. Before I crawled back into our blue and white Oldsmobile dad had bought the year before, Momma wiped my face clean, had me blow my nose, and then it was okay to reenter. "How far now?" I asked.

"Over the hill and around the curve." You know he was beginning to get on my nine year old nerves by this time. I sat back and was cranky for awhile. "Over the hill and round the curve" I muttered quietly to myself in the most sarcastic voice I could muster.

It was nearing dark when we arrived in San Antonio. Daddy got us a motel room, and I learned we would see the Alamo the next day. Now it was time to find a restaurant, one preferably that served buffalo. Daddy pulled into a such an establishment, and in we went. I was just beside myself, I was so excited. After being seated, Daddy opened the menu and looked it over, frowning ever so slightly. "Do they have buffalo Daddy?" I asked.

Momma gave Daddy a look like, now what are you going to do? Those two talked more using nothing but their eyes than anyone I ever knew. He sat there a second looking over the menu, then said, "I'll be right back." He rose from his chair, then walked over to our waitress. Daddy was one of those people who talked with his hands as well as his voice, and I saw him in animated conversation with the woman, then coming back to the table, smiling.

"Can I? Can I order buffalo?"

"Well I was worried because I didn't see it on the menu. I talked to our waitress though and she has a side of buffalo meat in the fridge. They weren't going to offer it till tomorrow, but for you, she's making an exception."

I was ecstatic. This was a huge thrill for me, and I couldn't wait. Buffalo just had to taste really good. After all the pioneers lived off the stuff. The waitress came to our table. Daddy and Momma ordered, then it was my time. "I'll have some buffalo meat!"

"How do you want it cooked?"

Daddy spoke up, "Better make it medium. don't overcook i though." My brother was not so certain, so he got a hamburger.

Every few minutes, I asked, "When will it be ready?"

Then here she came with our meals, setting the large tray on the table next to us, she served up Momma and Daddy's food first. Then right there in my plate before me, I gazed at my first glimpse of buffalo meat. I had not expected it to be served that way. It was covered in gravy and sauteed onions. Eagerly I took my knife and cut off a big piece and stuffed it into my mouth.

"How's the buffalo?" Daddy asked. Momma just smiled.

What could I say? Waves of horror and revulsion swept over me, and how could I ever admit after all this that I didn't like buffalo meat? Why this was the very stuff that made our nation great. Yet here I am, struggling to chew it up and swallow it. I 'mumble, "It's okay." How am I ever going to finish this plate with my dignity intact.

It tasted exactly like liver! With each bite, I struggled more. Today I enjoy liver, but back then, it was very near the top of things I did not want in my mouth. Every swallow was followed by a powerful urge to toss it back up.

With maybe two bites left, Daddy asks me, "Want some more? I know how much you love buffalo!" He began to giggle and momma joined in.

In that moment, reality set in. There was no buffalo meat at this restaurant. I was eating liver. They had both fooled me! I felt really stupid and small in that moment of realization. I tried to laugh along with them, but it was half hearted. Many years later I would eat buffalo, courtesy of an uncle who raised them. But in that moment and time, it was the last thing I would ever consider eating. Secretly inside I was furious, but as children of that age do in adult child relationships, I sucked it up as a lesson learned. I should've known better. Perhaps next time I would.

We would see the Alamo the next day. Then to West Texas, and Big Bend, then a trip to Mexico. Standing out in the mercado, my one memory from that trip was an old man talking to me, showing me a rattle he had carved and was selling. In Big Bend we almost got caught by a flash flood which was kind of exciting. Then there was a very long trip back home. I'm glad we went, and saw a bit of our history. I am not glad I ate liver.