Another week of news from Little Creek! Where does all the time go? The days have gone by one by one for 84 years and five days of my life and it seems only yesterday was the spring of my life and now it is winter, just as another spring is emerging in all it’s glory. The landscape is green with every hue of green imaginable. The white Dogwood is coming into full bloom just as the fuschia Redbuds are fading. What more could we ask for and praise our Lord for! We give thanks for the wonderful rainfall and for not sending frost our way.
I thank God now for each day granted me with family and friends in my beloved Ozarks. As we grow older, we realize the value of each day. When we’re young and carefee the days pass blissfully and rapidly without us giving a thought to someday being old, something we thought we’d never be. We couldn’t imagine being less agile and more forgetful, nor having to give up things we always took for granted.
So my young friends, slow down and smell the roses.
Ruth had back surgery the 25th and is home recuperating. She has to walk some every day, can’t recline in her favorite chair, must sit up straight. I think she is in lots of pain, but her good doctor says her surgery was successful and her prognosis is good. She will not know how to act with the pain gone that has plagued her for so long. To God we give thanks!
Karen and Kasey came by this Sunday bringing me milk. They had been shopping together.
Kasey and Matt, Greg and Karen and Kevin’s family helped Kevin Saturday take down and put up and build rabbit cages. The little animals are in new and better cages. At least they’re easier to care for.
They all had dinner at Theta’s Café.
My kids except for Kim and Kevin, who was out on the truck, he runs nights to St. Louis. As I started to tell, were all here for supper and cake and ice cream on my birthday.
Trish, my aide, made my cake and it was okayed especially by Greg who ate three or more pieces and declared it the best cake he could remember having. I told Trish of the approval and she told me her grandma, Rosella Clayton, taught her how to make a cake better, even if it was a mix and that was that it could be beaten too much.
Hello to Lorene, Betty, Lois, Hildred, Candy and all my friends and thanks for the best wishes, cards, letters, etc.
And Maxine and Ruth also. Ruth, please call me, I need your phone number. We can’t remember your Mama’s name. We remember Gordie.
We are compiling a book of memories of all the denezins of Little Creek and would like some input from you. Names of all your siblings, your kids, etc. and memories of childhood on Little Creek.
That is asking it of all who would be willing to share with Kim and I and several others who are helping.
It is titled, “A Place In Time Called Little Creek and The Inhabitants Thereof.”
Hoping to hear from many of you.
My sister, Jo, had a birthday also in this month, as did grandson, Jody. Happy late wishes to you both.
Jo had all her family for a day of celebration. Her sister-in-law, Jean, came to visit one weekend driving down from Kansas City by herself.
And Jo went to Chris’s place in Springfield for a few days and they attended Kelly Jo’s graduation. Jo said she was very pretty with her long auburn hair and her formal attire. Congratulations Kelly!
One person I will include in our book is Pony Boyd Degase, my grandfather. I’ve always wondered about his name and how anyone would come up with Pony for a name. Anyway, our Grandpa “Dad” to my sisters and I, always walked leaning to one side. We were told that he had to have a rib removed and then rode a horse home immediately afterwards. It’s too late to find out things now, but I wonder why, how far from home, who the doctor was, what anisthesia was used and so many questions unanswered. My grandfather was disabled as far as I can remember. He couldn’t walk very well and he had congestive heart failure. He was a kind, soft spoken man and would invite anyone who came by to come in and sit a spell and often eat, even when he knew Elsie wold be embarrassed at the plain meal.
Dad helped anyone in need in anyway he could. I remember Aunt Ollie, who had her kids to raise on her own, was helped with food and other things by Dad. Ollie lived just below us on Little Creek for a time. She had four little ones and then she married a good man, Claude Turner, and had another son. Aunt Ollie loved her Uncle Pone.
He was always available to another niece, Liz Fletcher, and “Dad” and “Ma” raised a nephew, Jim Degase, as their own when he and Ollie lost their parents. Ollie was raised by her grandparents, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Phoebe Moore.
These are a few of the people we are trying to perserve memorials of for the younger generation of our family, hoping they will appreciate our efforts. Please help if you can.
Maybe, we can recreate a time not too far removed, for our young folk and bring to life some of their ancestors. They can’t imagine even 10 years ago, how people survived without their smart phones and didn’t know how to text every spare moment. Maybe they would like to read of a time before computers, when we hardly ever crashed and were never downloaded or booted up. How prior to chat rooms, we met face to face. We can tell them of a time before we became a nation of shut-ins, starting at our monitors and entertainment centers, we actually knew our neighbors. We didn’t have to memorize passwords or worry about our identities being stolen because everyone knew everyone and we couldn’t have gotten away with it. We’ll tell of a time when we could spell without a “speller” write cursive, make change. Everyone could get places without global positioning and the kids knew how to shoot baskets through hoops nailed to the barn instead of shooting or “Killing” something on their computers. We can tell them of Will Rogers, Ole Yeller, of grape Nehi, okra, or grits, of how to milk a cow, feed the chickens, and the exhilaration of the first day of school to which you walked to join kids of all ages in a one room schoolhouse with one teacher and no principal. I wonder if they will even be interested and I know they can never comprehend the times of how we lived them way back when, but we older folk will have the pleasure of re-living, if only on pages, of our lives and times.