Anyway this past weekend we attended the Graham Family Reunion in Ponca City, OK. How does one convey what attending this particular reunion really means. I guess I would have to try and start by saying ....it means....ROOTS. Roots that run long and very deep within what used to be known as the Indian Territory and later became the state of Oklahoma. Roots that tell us our fore fathers bought the fastest horses they could find to run in the Great Land Rush on that fateful day! BOOMER........SOONER......runs in the veins of our roots! We know what those famous words really mean. We can see in our mind how it may have played out that day just before they fired the shot...then .... the race was ON!
This particular family had a visionary, entreprenuer and many other aspects of greatness; he was my great grandfather, Fulton Graham. He bought 2200 acres from the Indians for $.25 per acre! I just found that fact out from my Aunt Shirley after the reunion was over. Grandpa Fulton and his wife, Ethel, had nine children! Those nine children have been quite prolific and borne some 32 grandchildren for my great grandparents. It is these nine children that grew up on the 2200 acre Graham Ranch and lived a life that legends are made of.
To me, my great-uncles and aunts represent an era that is slowly fading into history. Last year, the only girl, Gladys, born to my great grandparents, wasn't able to make it to the reunion. Well, she lived in a really small town - Burden, Kansas. It was just a few miles outside of Winfield, KS where Tamala and I stay, with her father, while we attend the Graham Reunion. After the reunion was over, Tamala and made a side trip on the way back to Kansas City to see my great-Aunt Gladys. She was having a good day, that day. Her eyes were bright, and her snow white hair glistened like snow on a clear day. We visited with her briefly, not to tire her too much. I am SO thankful we stopped by to see her, because little did I know that would be last time I would be able to hug her, and gaze at her beautiful face. She went home to live with the Lord Jesus several months after last years reunion. We were blessed to have her with us over 90 years!
Three.....we have three still with us. Uncle "Curly", Uncle Johnny and Uncle Billy and their beautiful wives. All three of these guys can tell you stories that will have you mesmerized and fixed to your seats. They represent the "living and breathing" heritage of the very roots of my family. They ARE legends.....to me; and I love them. When I think of them, I think of a ranch as big as a county, cattle drives, baling hay, a huge barn, prairie fires, thunderstorms racing across the plains, twisters, breakin' horses, "truck houses", dirt roads, rodeos, ranch-hands, priceless wood carvings and ...... family.
It is quite impossible for me to convey to you what family really means to me here in this short little blogspot.
"Home is where the heart is" is an expession I've heard for many years. For me, Family is what warms the heart, any day you need a sense of comfort.
"Listen......can you hear it?" Listen hard! Listen with me.....get real quiet! Shhhhh......
"Listen intently and you can hear....yes, YES, there it is....the wind blowing softly over the country road, over the alfalfa field, down past the barn yard, through the open sashes of the old bunk house and into the main house where you can hear the sounds of Grandma cookin' dinner". Listen hard, and you can always hear the sounds of.......family.
3 comments:
good post...standing by that silo kinda puts things into perspective for me now.
VERY WELL WRITTEN. I could almost see myself swinging on the rope in the loft of that old barn that is no longer there. Many grandchildren have fond memories of enjoying that favorite pasttime at THE RANCH. I relished showing my two youngest sons the room where I was born, the sidewalk I learned to skate on, where the old cistern use to be....I could go on and on. If one listened closely you could almost hear the voices of the past as the blowing wind whipped about our ears. One can only relive the past in the deep recesses of the heart.
Very well written. As I stood on that ground where my roots began I could almost see myself swinging on the rope in the loft of that old barn that is no longer there. Many grandchildren have fond memories of enjoying that favorite pasttime at THE RANCH. I relished showing my two youngest sons the room where I was born, the sidewalk I learned to skate on, where the old cistern use to be...I could go on and on. If one listened closely you could almost hear the voices of the past as the dry prairie wind whipped about our ears. One can only relive the past in the deep recesses of the heart.
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