Only In Newton County, Arkansas

Chicken fat makes highway 7 slick!  

One Sad Story

The Morales family's story begins in Mier, Mexico, in the state of Tamaulipas, which is directly south of the southern tip of Texas.

It was 1846. The year that historians, today, concede the United States launched a wrongful war against Mexico and ended up with Mexico surrendering the western part of Texas, California, New Mexico and other portions of what we now call the U.S.

But land grabs aside, the Morales family saga began one day when three boys, among them Meliton Morales, 7, were herding goats near Mier. The short version: A roaming band of Apaches swooped in and took the three boys captive. The older boys, 12-13, tried to escape but were recaptured. The Apaches were said to have killed the older boys in front of Meliton to show him the fate of escapees.

Meliton was held captive for approximately nine years and later by the Delaware (Delaware were Eastern in nativity but were pushed westward as whites migrated westward). This band of Apaches traveled far and wide. As far south as Mexico and north to Colorado, Kansas — even Illinois.

At age 17, Meliton, the story goes, was urged by an Indian woman to escape and find a better life. He and another captive, a young white woman, rode away on horseback, leaving behind the life of Indians. They arrived one day at Fort Leavenworth, Kan. From there, Meliton's historical trail dissolves.

Then, in 1865, as the Civil War was winding down, he surfaced in New Orleans. A photo of him survives, in a seemingly gray uniform though he was a Union soldier.

Long story short, he returned to his boyhood home in Mexico and South Texas and, years later, with the help of his wife, drove 2,000 sheep and 200 goats northward to the Fort McKavett area, established a ranching empire, became one of the first jurors in the newly formed Kimble County, raised a family and earned a Texas historical marker.

A son married into the Hall family (descendants of Scottish royalty) of that area and that family built an English-style mansion that survives to this day.

On the wedding day in 1892, when Manuel Morales, son of Meliton, married Magdelina (May) Hall, the woman's sister was said to have written in a diary: "May Hall married a Mexican." Such was the temper of the times.

Alfred Morales marvels at his family's story. And he's understandably proud of it. But his search for older roots ends where the Morales family story begins. In Mier, Mexico.

He'd like to pick up the trail backward from there into the 1700s or wherever it might lead. He asks for information anyone might have on Meliton Morales' ancestors or ways he can access that information.

But so many other stories are out there. In every village, town and city. In forgotten corners of the mind and in storage areas.

Other family stories come to mind.

My father, around age 12, driving my grandmother in the Central Texas countryside to perform her midwife duties. Later, as a teen, working in a field with other laborers. The farmer runs across the field, shouting, "The Japanese attacked us!"

My father went back to work, not knowing how that historic attack would affect him later. Two and a half years hence, he'd fall in Brittany, France, in a hail of Nazi gunfire. Evacuated across the Channel in an English hospital, he heard Ginny Simms singing in a room of wounded American boys. Ah, the stuff of Hollywood.

Another story, this one of struggle: My mother earning her nursing cap when "career girls" were rare. A story of adventure: My cousin, Eddie Sandoval of Melvin, finding himself at an American Indian sun dance. Later, following his American Indian path, setting foot at the heavenly and spiritual Machu Picchu. So many great stories ...

In your attic, your files, your storm shelter or chest of drawers are stories such as these. Perhaps even more adventurous, more historic or even tragic. Because of your place, your nativity, your residency in the Americas, they are All-American tales and your histories are draped in the fabric of native lore.

If history is to mean anything, it should be to remind us of who we are and where our journeys began. And, maybe, where we'll go.

Driving sheep across Texas, working the land or fighting wars — it is the American journey to where we are today. Share it. Don't let it slide into oblivion.

Guillermo Torres is a longtime writer-editor at the Standard-Times, Los Angeles Times, Dallas Morning News and San Antonio Express-News

All that remains is memories...

Chicken Tractor

New Chickens

Larry found these chickens on Craig's list.  He had 5 sex linked (only shows 2 in photo) and we called and bought them.  Patsy, the little black and white chickens? He calls them laced wyandotts.  They are 5 bucks each.  The sex linked were six dollars each.  I have had them and they lay good.

Drills

More girls were at open gym so they did a lot of scrimmaging and drills.  Did not take as many photos.

Reward for waiting patiently

 The deer had bit on this honeydew and I could not wait.  Picked it and it was not time. Chicken feed.  We are often in too big of a hurry for pleasure.  Must learn to wait.

 Grandma Gaddy's garden is doing pretty well.  I am imagining that these chicks will fall off and grow?

 When summer began, I only had one chick in each opening so I am pleased.

 The above is some type of Lily it has bloomed 3 times.  It puts up a shoot and these blooms appear.  They only last a day or two.  Below are Momma's 4 O'clocks that came up from seed last year.  I mulched them and they are doing better but Fleta is right they aren't to pretty.

 Above is Fleta's mint garden she gave me.  Next year I think there will be a lot of it here so I have not planted anything beside it.  Below are what I call Surprise lilies and Patsy calls Naked Ladies.  They will be blooming soon.

 Tomatoes are doing better.  The small ones are called Romas.  I notice the Mexicans buying a big bag of them in the store.  And sure enough they are really good.  I think they make salsa out of them.

 I planted more yellow squash and I think the other will die soon.  Squash does not last too long...but it is easy to just plant more.  Below you can see my okra.  A guy came yesterday for a tractor part and he said I see you 'whip' your okra.  Where the okra comes from the stalk, I cut the pod and the limb below it so that the new okra grows from the top of the plant.  The plant needs less water and the okra is easier to see.

 The Black Diamonds are growing.

 Watermelon blooms and a yellow meated melon.  See where the stem hits the melon.  Around that spot a ripe melon will be brown...and the pig tail will be dead.  You can see pig tails in the photo if you don't know what they are.  Also, you can always thump them.  Which does not work for me.

 Isn't the okra bloom lovely.  Prettier than the 4 o'clocks that is for sure.

 If you look closely, you can see a watermelon among these vines.

Other Grandmother

Here is Sigrid and Astrid with the Great Grandmother in NE.  She is really OLD Siggie Says.  When I say I am old, Siggie corrects me, that Grandma Merle is old.  Merle's father was born in Norway.  She sings the
girl's little Norwegian lullabies.  When she talks to Eric, she cries to get them to come to see her again.  She is now living where she has more assistance, but it is not a nursing home.  Merle can not see.  So she could not fix her food without some danger.  I have met her once and I knew immediately that she was a nice lady.  Her husband had a heart attack and died when he was less than 40.  She had 3 kids and one on the way.  She told me that she told herself...I have to go on for these kids.  Eric's dad is the oldest of her children.  Merle's maiden name was Fedje.  Of course, she is ecstatic that all the grand girls have Norwegian names.

I get to take Astrid to open gym today at 1:00....more videos of shooting.  I know you are excited!

House or Purple

I am trying to figure out if my Finches are House Finches or Purple Finches.  I bet Patsy will know.

Martins Linger

 This morning I picked several tomatoes and enough okra for a mess as we say.  The tomatoes on the window sill need to ripen a little more.  I probably could have gotten enough green beans to cook, but will wait one more day and maybe there will be a few more.

Hard to believe that a lot of Martins remain but they are still here with us.

Helen, Don't Be Offended!

 I love my apron, but....yes, there is always a but....I felt like I was harnessed when I put it on.  It has a tail that went down the back (notice I used past tense) and then a big button hole that I know Helen spent a lot of time getting just right.  The apron strings threaded through the button hole.  You were yoked up!  Well, I survived the same job for 39 years.  My Momma did not raise a fool.  I carefully trimmed away the tail.  I have a big enough one by myself.  Now, all I have to do is slip my head though the neck opening and tie the sash.  I use my apron anytime I cook and want to keep the grease off my clothes.  I used it today after church and thought of how much I enjoy it.  I relish wearing things out.  Not buying new stuff.  I plan to use this same apron the rest of my life.  If I have any of my Sister Pat's genes, it will need to last at least 20 more years!

PLUS....  local paper is not much account anymore.  But today it was super.  We stopped and bought one because this lady on the right is a swimming star.  Sigrid has gone north to Lincoln, NE to visit her 91 year old or 89 year old Grandmother and we miss her today.  Now, she is famous!  Her NE Granny always cries when the kids leave to come home.  I know she must be a wonderful lady with good tastes.

Clayton and Greta Came To Visit

 Not much exciting to do at our house.  Eric and two of the girls were gone to Nebraska to visit his Grandmother.  Clayton taught Greta the difference in push and pull.  She got the wagon in a hole but he fixed it and they were off again.

 Finally, all they could find to do was kill flies.  It brought back memories of Dad and his fly killing days.  Larry and I both have a swat on the back porch.  Erin, thanks for bringing them to see us.

Using the Shooting Machine

Basketball Open Gym

 Laura worked today and I got to take Astrid to open gym.  They worked on shooting.  It was fun to watch.

Joy In The Morning

A bee was pollinating my Georgia Jets!

 I woke up before five.  Looked at Helen's blog and realized this was the 25th.   I was thinking about life and how much harder it will be for our kids.  Silly to dwell on stuff you can not change.  We should look for little things to do and try to do those small tasks.

Then I got dressed and went outside!  A cool morning greeted me.  What great joy.  I walked around and looked and took pleasure in what I saw.  Live in the moment!

A tomato had ripened on the vine!

 Several cantaloupes to enjoy later 

 The moon was full and clear...I think I saw a man in the moon.

 A pumpkin for October when the frost comes

 All the watermelons are getting big

 Martins were still here

 A terrapin was crawling looking for something to eat

a melon or tomato?

 A crane on Galla Lake

 Our Catalpa tree lives.

Larry drilled a hole in the old bucket and I have been giving it a drink.

 If you don't have some low spots, you can't enjoy the highs.  I saw 4 of these lows.

 I remember these cacti when I was growing up.  Tried to pick the blooms when I was young...got stickers.  A lot of things we do when we are young hurts us.   I have learned to not pick all pretty blooms.

 The corn is dead but the melons remain.

 Galla Lake reminds me of what peace is like!  What is faith?  Well, I saw the eagles soaring high. I know it was not buzzards the under belly was white.  They did not come near enough for me to share them...but I saw the eagles.  Hope you believe and have faith!

All that remains of the old apple tree.  I remember the apples we gathered that were so sweet.