One
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Oklahoma
1929
Some folks tell me,
‘Rae Ann, you've lived a mighty long and blessed life.’ But livin’ to be
eighty, ninety, or even a hundred years old sure don't seen quite so long once
you be reachin’ it. One kinda be thinkin’ that another hundred or so years
might be alright. Nobody wants to just up and die. Now I do pity those folks
who be sufferin' in their bodies, hearts, and all; those folks who just keep on
livin’ when all they want to do is to die and end their miseries. But yes, I
have been mighty blessed in life. I recollect my days as a youngin were the
days when I started lookin’ for some of life’s blessing. You see, times in
Oklahoma back then were a might bit trying on a person’s soul and life, but by
God's grace we made it through them times and come out on the other side just
fine.
My earliest memories, although faded like an old
worn-out photograph, are of visiting my grandma and grandpa Charlton over in
Union City. We were living on a farm not far from there in those days. Sometime
after that visit grandpa passed away. I remember just staring at a large
standing crucifix at the cemetery during the funeral, my mind thinkin’ about
dyin’ and bein’ buried and all of that stuff that scares a kid almost to death,
especially when tryin’ to get to sleep at night in a dark bedroom. Father
McNeary presided over the affairs and did a mighty fine job, or so I heard my
Ma say from time to time. Father McNeary was young and just startin’ out in his
priestly callin’ back then and I remember him as bein’ such a nice fellow, you
know, for bein’ a priest and all.
My Pa's name was John and my mother's was Hilda.
I had an older brother, Richard, who was ten months to the day older than me; I
had another younger brother, Theodore, but everyone always called him Teddy;
and two younger sisters, Mary and Sarah Jane.
'A lot of mouths to feed!' as Pa used to
say.
Richard was sort of tall and lanky with curly
black hair; Teddy, well he was much taller than all the other boys his age and
was crowned with the fullest, blackest head of hair a person could ever see. He
was an even-tempered boy; Mary was just plain cute and when Sarah Jane came
along she must of inherited that same cuteness herself. Sarah Jane was a bit
smaller than other girls her age though. Both Mary and Sarah Jane were
easy-goin’. Now me, I had lots more black curly hair when I was a youngin than
I do now. Folks always called me the spunky one, or sometimes the wiry one. I
used to do just about everything my brothers did. I had the energy and gumption
of a dozen polecats. I ain’t mellowed much with age either.
Those were the days we were growin’ cotton and
corn.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Rae Ann,” Hilda Charlton called out to her
slowly dressing daughter, “get a move on, you know your Pa won’t look kindly on
you makin’ us late to your grandpa’s funeral!”
“I’m hurryin’ Ma, just a minute.”
“Not a minute, Rae Ann… now.”
As John Charlton hitched up the horses to the
wagon, Hilda herded the children together faster and better than any sheep dog
around could have. Clothes needed to be inspected for tidiness, teeth and hands
for cleanliness, and hair and other details for appropriateness; a full
morning’s work for a busy mother of five.
“It’s pert near ten o’clock,” Hilda admonished
her brood of youngins, “half the day’s gone already.” You children know that
farm work don’t be waitin’ for anything, even on funeral days like today. A
person has to adjust their life to the workload at hand, the workload ain’t
gonna be adjustin’ itself no how.”
When four in the morning came around, it
signaled the start of the day’s work routines that kept a busy sharecropping
family active from before dawn until after dusk. Mr. Charlton would rise and
wake his eldest son, Richard, and the two would scurry out to feed the farm’s
livestock before the surrounding rolling hills and planted crop fields echoed
with the cries of those hungry critters with their empty stomachs. Once the
animals were fed, water troughs filled, and irrigation hoses placed and flowing
with water for the day, breakfast was next on the agenda. Then, it was back out
to the fields to check the irrigation hoses for stoppages.
Richard had learned early the simple technique
of “floppin’ hoses” as his father would say. He would grab the hose,
submerge it into the depths of the irrigation canal, wait for the cool waters
to fill it, then place his thumb over the end and flop it over into one of the
plowed water runs. The floppin’ caused a suction that siphoned the water from
one large canal into the smaller plowed furrows. Dozens and dozens of short
hoses needed to be activated every morning, but Richard was proud to be a
working member helping to support his family.
The smells of fresh cut hay, irrigation waters,
growing crops, and farmland animals graced the lives of those who worked the
lands; smells foreign to life in the city, smells treasured by generations of
families across America’s rolling hills, beautiful mountains, and plush green
valleys.
“Let’s get a move on!” John Charlton shouted.
The wagon trip into Union City felt like hours
and hours to the children, but that was due, in part, to them wearing ‘dress
up’ clothes for their grandfather’s funeral services, and also caused by the
morning sun’s rays heating up those ‘dress up’ clothes’ dark fabric like a slow
burning furnace on a chilly spring’s day.
Once Mr. Charlton and Richard secured the wagon
and watered the horses the family entered the small graveyard’s chapel where
Grandpa Charlton’s casket sat. Grandma Charlton stood near her late husband’s
final pinewood resting abode with the tears of grief streaming from her eyes.
“Mom,” John addressed his grieving mother, “I’m
so sorry.”
“You can take sorry and burn it in a rubbish
pile.”
John’s mother had remained a feisty and pungent
woman all of the days of her long life. Though offensive to some, she was well
respected for her honest, down-to-earth approach to life and its hardships. She
often said that, “When a soul plucks the morning’s eggs from the henhouse they
may be gettin’ a few bad ones in with the good ones. The world is just like
that henhouse and life is just like them eggs. That’s just the way it is.”
“Papa,” John whispered softly, “papa.”
His mother placed her arm around him and
replied, “Your papa is in a better place now, one that ain’t got the aches and
pains of an old body, the sorrows and hardships of life, or even the shortness
of the days of one’s time of livin’ on this earth. He’s absent from his
physical body and present with our dear Lord in his eternal house in heaven.”
John knew all too well the words of the Bible’s
second book of Corinthians and especially chapter five. It was one of his
father’s favorite passages.
“Folks will be comin’ soon,” John’s mother
stated rather matter-of-factly, “we better be sittin’ down about now.”
The rest of John Charlton’s family had already
seated themselves along the front pew of the chapel, each stood to hug and
greet their grandmother, even little Sarah Jane who had just begun to walk a
bit.
Numerous families drifted in, one by one, until
the small chapel filled to capacity.
“It seems that once the taste of death gets
closer to a person’s lips for the actual tastin’,” Grandma Charlton commented,
“folk just can’t be stayin’ away from a funeral.”
Father McNeary entered the chapel, greeted the family,
and then stood by the simple white pine casket to address the mourning family
and their guests, “Welcome to you all….”
The priest’s message to the grieving crowd
centered on the hope of certainty Christians have regarding their faith in the
Creator, factual evidences, and centuries of folks’ experiences with their
living, personal God. He talked of Christ’s one thousand year reign after His
return, the binding and release of the Devil before and after that upcoming
time period in human history, and the new heavens and the new earth, “Now I saw
a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had
passed away. Also there was no more sea. Then I, John, saw the holy city, New
Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for
her husband. And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, Behold, the
tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be
His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God.”
Father McNeary completed his message with a
quote from the Bible’s book of Titus, “looking for the blessed hope and
glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”
The pallbearers consisted of John Charlton and
five other men from the church. They carried the casket to the gravesite on
their shoulders while an elderly nun, Sister Katherine Grace, followed behind.
Father McNeary led the processional.
As the procession slowly followed behind the
casket to gravesite, Grandma Charlton whispered to her grandson Richard,
"When a man died in ancient Rome his cloak, called a pallium, was draped
over the casket. That's where we get the term pallbearer from."
Richard only listened to his grandmother’s
words, for he was far too sad to respond. He loved his grandfather and felt a deep
sense of loss at his passing. Richard thought deeply about his first fishing
trip, first boat ride, and many other events the two had shared together.
Richard cried.
Rae Ann stood staring at a huge white cross with
the carved image of the dying Savior upon it and two angels standing on each
side. She could no longer bear to gaze upon her beloved grandfather’s casket
and the open hole of his lonely grave.
Leonard and Felicity Smith had made the trip
from Binger to attend the funeral; their parents were life-long friends of the
Charlton family and had moved away some years before. After the funeral Leonard
had a long talk with Mr. Charlton by the gravesite. He told him about how good
life and farming was in Binger. He also informed him that Father McNeary was
soon to move to Hinton and be that area’s priest. This interested John Charlton
greatly, to say the least.
Chapter Two: Highs & Lows
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