Celebrating our Ranching Heritage

This won’t come as a galloping shock to anyone who knows me, but I love history, especially Texas history. And particularly, LOCAL Texas history. In other words, I enjoy learning about the history of this area, and the pioneers, settlers, and early day ranchers who came here in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. What follows is a list of some of the books I have especially enjoyed that contain stories of those first settlers.

Any study of Haskell County has to begin with the very fine Haskell County History by Mr. R.E. Sherrill, first published in about 1936 or 37, and reprinted (without updates) in 1965. In the book’s Foreword, Mr. Sherrill states that the book began in response to a request from Prof. C.C. Minatra, who was the Superintendent of Haskell Public Schools from 1918 to 1923. Apparently, the good professor wanted something he could use in helping teach local history to his students. The book went through a number of revisions and reorganizations before finally being published more than a decade later. It includes material on the earliest white settlers to the region, establishment of the first communities, agriculture commodities, the coming of the railroads, local politics, crop yields, and much more. It’s not exactly “light bedtime reading,” but if you want to hear the authentic remembrances of early-day pioneers, this is a great treasure.

Another great resource is Haskell County and Its Pioneers, written by Rex A. Felker and published in 1975. This book begins with a review of the county’s history, early day political officeholders, and stories of interest. It has extensive articles about different businesses and the various churches within the city of Haskell, but the real treasure is the extensive collection of family histories – dozens of names of folks who helped build this community and whose grandchildren and great-grandchildren still live here.

A more recent offering is Haskell County, published in 2010 by the Haskell County Historical and Genealogical Society. This little softcover book is available from Arcadia Publishing as part of their “Images of America” series and is primarily a collection of fascinating black and white photographs, many of which have been shared from private family archives.

Mr. C.H. Underwood of O’Brien has written A History of the Upper Forks of the Brazos River. This little book, recently published, tells the story of how the Salt Fork and Double Mountain Fork of the Brazos come together to form the river that flows across much of Texas. It’s an enjoyable read that I highly recommend.

If you want to learn a little more about cowboy culture and life on the early-day range, I suggest Life on the Texas Range, photographs by Erwin E. Smith, and text by J. Evetts Haley. This book contains about a hundred crisp photos of cowboys and livestock on the range, which were selected to be exhibited during the Texas Centennial of 1936. Many of the pictures are of cowboy life up on the Caprock and in the Panhandle region of Texas but would have been very similar to early day ranch life in and around Haskell County.

The Cowboys, part of “The Old West Series,” published by Time-Life Books, is another book I have enjoyed. You’ve probably seen these books with their imitation leather binding – they’re available in just about every second-hand store everywhere. There are numerous volumes in this series that are entertaining reading, but I think this is one of the best. It includes information on Cowboy and Western history and culture in general, not just this area.

Finally, I think every community in the area has at least one book that tells its history and celebrates the story of those who braved the frontier that I would encourage you to read – and that’s not limited to just Haskell or Jones County, either. Many of those books are available in the Haskell County Library, in the genealogy section. But be advised – because of their extreme rarity, most of them cannot be checked out, but you’re welcome to read them there. And I would encourage you to do so.

It’s a frontier that’s waiting for you.

NOT National BBQ Day

Today – Monday, May 29 – is a national holiday. For some, it’s a chance to head out to the lake and maybe catch some crappie or bass. Some see it as a chance to soak up some sun. For auto racing fans, the weekend means it’s time for what is perhaps the most famous competition in motor sports – the Indianapolis 500. For many communities, it’s a time for patriotic parades, with flags, bands and floats. Some folks see it as a chance to fire up the grill and have family and friends over for a fun time. A lot of retailers have big sales, while others are happy just to have the day off. For many, it’s the unofficial start of summer.

All of those things are fine, and each is appropriate in its place, but Memorial Day wasn’t originally designed for any of those things. And although the exact origins of the day have been lost to history, its intention is clear: to remember and honor those who have given their lives in defense of this country.

“Decoration Day” (as the day was originally known) began during and especially, immediately after, the American Civil War (or the War Between the States, if you prefer). Several communities, in both the North and the South, held ceremonies to decorate the graves of the Union and Confederate soldiers.

In 1868, Union General John A. Logan issued a proclamation establishing “Decoration Day” to be held on May 30, annually and nationwide; Logan was the commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, an organization made up of Union Civil War veterans. Some have claimed the date was chosen because it was not the anniversary of any specific battle, but instead could be universally recognized; others have suggested that it was chosen because it was the best date for flowers to bloom in the north.

There are more than 25 different communities that claim to be the founder of the observance. In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson signed a bill recognizing Waterloo, New York, as the “official” birthplace of the holiday a hundred years earlier, but the evidence for this is sketchy, at best. Rochester, Wisconsin, Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and Grafton, West Virginia, all host annual parades that have been continuously running since the 1860s. During the first half of the 20^th century, the focus graduated shifted from exclusively honoring those who fell in the Civil War, to remembering all those who had died in our nation’s defense. The name “Memorial Day” was first used in 1882 and gradually became more common, especially after World War II; Congress made that the “official” name in 1967.

Then in 1968, as part of the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, Congress changed the date from May 30, to the last Monday of May, which we still observe today. In 2000, they passed the National Moment of Remembrance Act, asking all Americans to pause at 3:00 pm, local time, and remember the fallen. The National American Legion has chosen to honor those who died by distributing and wearing red silk poppies – a tribute to the poem “In Flanders Fields,” about the flowers that grew over soldiers’ graves in World War I.

However you choose to observe the holiday, let us take a moment, each in our own way, to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice and the families they left behind. Let us pray for our nation and our leaders, and pray that the Lord will bring His peace on earth.

I’ll give the final word to British poet Rudyard Kipling, whose son was killed while fighting with the British army during World War I. In his poem Recessional, Kipling writes

The tumult and the shouting dies –
The captains and the kings depart –
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget – lest we forget!

Grayburg Memories

Grayburg: that was the little community where his grandparents lived, and he loved going to visit.

His grandparents lived in a small white house on two lots, with gigantic sycamore trees in the front yard. He loved everything about the place, and he especially loved that during the summer, he could come and stay for a week, and have his grandparents all to himself.

His grandmother’s name was Sallie, but he called her “Sa-Sa,” and the name stuck.

There was lots to love about going to Grayburg. The boy loved walking down to see Sa Sa’s sister, Aunt Bib. Her name was Vivian, but everyone called her Bib. Aunt Bib was cool. She taught him how to play dominoes, and how to do leathercraft. And when he spent the night, she would let him get up in her bed, and they would put the covers up over their heads, and hold flashlights, and she would tell great stories. Her version of “Three Little Pigs” was the best. And there was another sister, too – Aunt Hazel. So Grayburg had lots of family connections.

Sa-Sa was a great cook, and his favorite was her chicken and dumplings. The flavor was amazing, as was the smell going through the entire house. And the hissing and clattering of the pressure cooker while the chicken was cooking.

There was a lady who came and helped Sa-Sa with her cooking and cleaning, an old black lady somewhere between the ages of 60 and 200. Her name was Daisy, and she was wrinkled and thin with wiry gray hair, but she had a smile that could light up a room. Daisy had been Sa-Sa’s friend and helper as far back as the boy could remember. Farther than that – his mother said that Daisy had been a fixture in their home for almost as long as SHE could remember.

Of course, one of his favorite parts about Grayburg was the trains. Sa-Sa’s house was only a block or so away from the Missouri Pacific mainline between Houston and Beaumont. There was a long siding there, where trains would stop and pass each other, and a small yard where pulpwood was loaded onto flat cars. And there was a small station there. It was a sort of creamy yellow-beige color, with dark brown trim. There was a freight deck on one side, and the station had a bay window where the agent could look down and see trains without having to leave his desk.

Inside, the station was painted in a tired ivory color with pews around the walls for seating. There was a potbellied stove for the occasional cold days, and a ticket window with an iron grill. And there was a single small restroom in the corner. Over the restroom door was a small metal sign.

Whites Only.

One time, the boy asked his dad about it. “But, if Daisy were here and needed to go, where would she go?” he asked in all childhood innocence. As it turns out, there was an outhouse out in the weeds and mud at the edge of the railyard. His dad pointed out to the old privy and said, “I guess she would have to go there.” The boy just looked at his dad. He didn’t say anything else. But all he could think about was how unfair that was.

This story took place in about 1961. And it’s a true story, because I was that little boy. And what I remember was how many people seemed content with things as they were and seemed not to notice unfairness.

My point is this – Jim Crow segregation laws are long since a thing of the past, thank God. But unfairness and prejudice are still with us. In society. In our churches. And in our hearts. Jesus told us to pray for God’s Kingdom to come. Surely the first place it must come is to our own hearts and our own lives. And that means being willing to notice unfairness wherever it is. And to work to change it.

No matter how uncomfortable it might make us to admit that it still exists.

An Evening with Emmylou

As I have said before, I enjoy many different types of music, and Emmylou Harris is one of my very favorite artists. I was first drawn to her music indirectly – in my college days, I was a HUGE fan of Linda Ronstadt (still am, for that matter). One of my favorite albums of Linda’s featured amazing harmony vocals from someone named, “Emmylou Harris.” Frankly, I was not familiar with her at the time. It was a deficiency that I soon corrected.

Emmylou was born to a military family – her father flew Corsairs in World War II and Korea, was shot down, and spent ten months as a POW. She moved to New York in the early 60s and supported herself as a waitress while getting experience as a folk singer and performer. By the early 70s, she was with the country rock band, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and later, toured and sang with Gram Parsons. After his death in 1973, her first solo album was released in 1975. At the time, her music was an eclectic mix of rock, folk, and traditional country.

Over the years, she has been known for boosting the careers of young musicians and songwriters – at one time or another, Rodney Crowell, Ricky Skaggs, Vince Gill, and Marty Stuart have all been members of her band. She’s currently touring with a five-piece group of very solid musicians known as the “Red Dirt Boys.” And she has transitioned back into very traditional country, known now as “Roots” music, or Americana. She’s been nominated for 48 Grammy awards and won 14.

Meanwhile, the Longhorn Ballroom is one of Big D’s most famous music venues. The club opened in 1950 as the “Bob Wills Ranch House,” and sure enough, Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys were the first group to appear. Over the years, it hosted just about everyone who was anyone in country music – but they also often featured a very diverse group of Rock and Blues artists, including Dallas native Stevie Ray Vaughan, Nat King Cole, and B.B. King. The place was renamed the “Longhorn Ballroom” in 1958. For a while, it was leased and operated by infamous Dallas night club owner Jack Ruby. It eventually closed in 2019 but was purchased out of bankruptcy and reopened last month. Appropriately, the first band to perform was the legendary Western Swing band, Asleep at the Wheel.

Kathy and I with Drew and Reid at the recently reopened Longhorn Ballroom in Dallas.

Anyway, our son Drew knows that his mother and I are both big Emmylou fans, so he called us and said that if we could get there on a Sunday evening, that he would treat for the tickets. Who can pass up that deal? So we met him and girlfriend Reid, had supper, then went to the show.

It started promptly at 8:00 pm. The band walked out on stage, then out came Emmylou. She greeted the crowd, strapped on her enormous acoustic guitar, and immediately launched into “Easy From Now On,” followed up by “Two More Bottles of Wine” – both massive hits of hers from the 70s. She joked with the audience about being older now, and noted that for a lot of us, instead of two bottles of wine, we would prefer two more gallons of ice cream. She sang for a solid 90 minutes, a setlist primarily of many of her best-known tunes plus a few that were not as familiar. Her encore consisted of another favorite from the 70s, “From Boulder to Birmingham,” before closing with 1981’s “Born to Run.”

Emmylou Harris on stage at the Longhorn Ballroom in Dallas last weekend.

One of my favorites was “Get Up John,” a song written by Bill Monroe, the Father of Bluegrass, and featuring amazing mandolin work and clear, tight harmonies. At one point, she joked with the crowd about being a performer for over 50 years, and said, “You’re going to have to bring out the hook to get rid of me, folks – as long as you keep showing up, I’ll keep on singing!”

And boy, she sure can.

Training for Family Fun

Longtime readers of these musings know that I am a HUGE “railfan” – that is to say, I LOVE trains! It’s been a hobby – really, more of a passion – of mine since I was a toddler. In fact, my mom used to tease me by telling me that I could say “choo-choo” before I ever learned to say “mama.” My brothers and I used to play with a push-it-along toy train set with snap-together track – kind of an early 60s version of a Brio kid’s playset but made out of plastic by a company called “Child Guidance.”

And of course, a trip to our grandparent’s home in Grayburg, between Beaumont and Houston, was never complete without walking down to the tracks, to watch for trains on the Missouri Pacific and put a penny or two on the rails to be flattened by the passing locomotives as they went thundering by. We would always wave at the crew as they passed, and it was important for the conductor in the caboose to wave back.

All of that to say, I enjoy trains. I like to watch them going by, I like to read about them, and I like to look at pictures of them, especially old, historical photos. And I really like riding trains when I have the chance, which brings us to the point of this week’s column – if you’re making plans for a family trip this summer, you should think about going somewhere to ride a train.

Two of the most famous tourist trains in North America are both remnants of the old Denver & Rio Grande Narrow Gauge Railroad: the Durango & Silverton in Southwestern Colorado, or the Cumbres & Toltec, running from Chama, New Mexico, to Antonito, Colorado. They are both wonderful rides, with lovingly-preserved vintage steam locomotives and passenger coaches, running through some of the most gorgeous scenery imaginable. But Texas has some terrific tourist lines of its own, available much closer to home (and at more reasonable prices!).

The Austin Steam Train Association is a good example. Their Hill Country Flyer, for example, runs from Cedar Park, near Austin, through part of the Hill Country northwest of the capital city, and passes through beautiful, rolling hills and across several creeks, to a leisurely lunch stop Burnet before heading back, while pulled by a vintage diesel locomotive. Their annual “Bluebonnet Festival Flyer” (held this past weekend) is always sold out well in advance, but they have multiple special trains throughout the year. Visit their website at austinsteamtrain.org for more information.

The Grapevine Vintage Railroad runs between Grapevine and the Stockyards, north of Downtown Ft. Worth, along the route of the old Cotton Belt Railroad. They have three rides available, at different prices and with different destinations – the longest runs from the depot in Grapevine for the 90-minute ride to the Stockyards. You then have about two hours to explore the area around historic Exchange Avenue in Ft. Worth before the ride back to Grapevine. The pride of the GVRR is their antique steam locomotive, “Puffy,” built in 1896 and originally operated by the Southern Pacific Railroad. It has been out of service for the last several years for maintenance but is expected to be back pulling trains again sometime this year. Go to gvrr.com to learn more or buy tickets.

Former Texas & Pacific Ten-Wheeler #316 pulls its passenger coaches across the Neches River on the Texas State Railroad, between Rusk and Palestine, in East Texas.
Photo courtesy, Texas Parks & Wildlife.

Of course, the granddaddy of all Texas tourist trains is the Texas State Railroad, running between Palestine and Rusk, in deep East Texas. This line has been carrying folks through dense forests since the late 70s and has a fleet of vintage steam engines as well as early, first-generation diesels – including (for display purposes only) the giant #610, a massive 2-10-4 “Texas” type steamer formerly owned and operated by the Texas & Pacific Railway and built to singlehandedly conquer the steep grade of Baird Hill, east of Abilene, while pulling a mile-long freight train.

Today, the TSRR uses a mixture of steam and diesel locomotives to pull visitors along its route through the Piney Woods. Depending on the time of year, you may see beautiful crimson clover or flowering dogwood trees, and always the towering pines, all while hearing the steady “CHUG-a-chug-a-CHUG-a-chug-a” of the steam engine as it climbs the gentle hills and that lonesome whistle as it echoes through the trees. It is an experience not to be missed! Go to texasstaterailroad.net for tickets and to learn more.

All aboard!

The Real Story of Valentine’s Day

With Valentine’s Day approaching next week, I wanted to write about the true story of who St. Valentine was and why we associate him with honoring our sweethearts. The problem is, while there are many legends and myths about the origins of this observance, there is very little reliable history about exactly who the real person was or how he came to be associated with honoring that special someone in our lives.

The best evidence seems to be that “Valentine” was a fairly common name in ancient Roman times, shared by at least three different saints with a connection to February 14. The name “Valentine” comes from the Latin valens, meaning “worthy, strong, powerful” – it’s also the root for our word, “valiant.” For our purposes, Saint Valentine was a clergyman, perhaps a priest or a bishop, from the central Italian town of Terni, around the year 270. He was arrested for his faith – it was still illegal in those days to be a Christian – and brought before a judge named Asterius.

Valentinus (the Latin version of his name) was discussing faith with the judge, who challenged him to prove his faith by performing a miracle: restoring the sight of the judge’s young, blind daughter. The priest prayed for the girl and laid his hands on her eyes, and the child could see. Humbled by this act of God, Judge Asterius asked for instructions for what to do next. Valentinus ordered the judge to destroy all the idols in his home, fast for three days, and be baptized. Church history says that the judge freed all the Christian inmates in his custody, then he, his family, and 44 adult members of his household were baptized.

Later, Valentinus was arrested again for his continuing work in ministry, and this time, he was brought before Emperor Claudius II. The emperor liked the old priest and wanted to set him free, until the priest tried to convince him to become a Christian. Valentinus was sentenced to death. Legend says that just before his death, the old priest sent a note to the judge’s daughter – the one healed of her blindness – and he signed it, “from your Valentine.”

A different story goes that the emperor had decided that married soldiers didn’t fight as well as single men, and so he issued an order forbidding young men of military age to be married. But, according to this legend, the priest Valentine kept secretly performing marriage ceremonies, even though it was against the law. He was executed for this on February 14, 270, and in so doing, became remembered as the patron saint of young lovers.

Other accounts suggest a totally different origin for the day. A pagan Roman festival known as “Lupercalia” occurred sometime from February 13–15, involving a matchmaking lottery and a wild night of drunken celebrations. This history says that at some point in the fifth century, Pope Gelasius I established the Feast of St. Valentine’s Day to “Christianize” this festival.

Whatever its origins, it remained a minor festival of the church until the time of the English poet Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14^th century. (I remember reading through Chaucer’s most famous work, The Canterbury Tales, in a high school English class. Thanks, Mr. Wernig.) Anyway, sometime around the 1370s or 1380s, he wrote a poem called “Parliament of Fowls,” with the line, “For this was on Saint Valentine’s Day, when every bird comes there to choose his mate.” The name stuck, and within a generation, people were writing little poems and notes to their love interests, and these communications became known as “valentines.”

Anyway, fast forward to the 1860s, and candymaker Cadbury’s began selling boxes of heart-shaped chocolates. Hershey’s Kisses came out in 1907, and Hallmark Valentine’s Day cards debuted in 1913. And according to the National Retail Federation, US consumers spent a record $19.7 billion in 2016, in what is believed to be the highest total ever for the holiday.

However you choose to celebrate the day – flowers, chocolates, a pretty card, enjoying a nice meal eating out somewhere – here’s wishing you and your special someone a very happy and loving day.

“From your valentine.”

Remembering Dr. King

Next Monday, we will observe the national holiday honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Personally, I have long been an admirer of Dr. King – he consistently stood for justice, for peace, and for non-violence. He believed in the Kingdom of God, and he believed that Christians, regardless of color, ought to do all they can to create outposts and colonies of God’s Kingdom here on earth – to create what he called “beloved community.”

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

When I was in graduate school, I did a project on Dr. King’s rhetorical skills, looking at the way he was able to take traditional black preaching styles – with the use of Biblical storytelling, rhythmic phrasing, and uplifting hopefulness – and combine that with the best of white preaching styles, with its rhetorical structure and its use of logic and Aristotelian reasoning. The result was preaching which communicated to both white and black audiences. In the process, I read just about everything that Dr. King ever said or wrote. Here are a few of my favorite quotes from him.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. 

Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream”? Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I can do no other, so help me God.”? And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? … Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.

The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends towards justice.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. 

Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.

Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

The time is always right to do right.

But the end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends. The type of love that I stress here is not eros, a sort of esthetic or romantic love; not philia, a sort of reciprocal love between personal friends; but it is agape which is understanding goodwill for all men. It is an overflowing love which seeks nothing in return. It is the love of God working in the lives of men. This is the love that may well be the salvation of our civilization.

Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction.

Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, “What are you doing for others?”

“Chains Shall He Break…”

I have been reading recently about a controversy involving a well-loved Christmas carol and the mistaken claims that some of its lyrics, and especially the third verse, are a recent invention. Let me tell you the story behind this great hymn. (Parts of this material were adapted from Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas by Ace Collins, Copyright © 2001, Andrew Collins, published by Zondervan.)

The year was 1847. Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure was the commissioner of wines in a small French village who had a reputation as a poet. Although he was not a regular churchgoer, the local priest asked him if he would compose a special poem for use at that year’s Christmas service, and Cappeau agreed, and soon completed the poem entitled, “Cantique de Noel.” But Cappeau felt that the poem needed to become a song, and so he turned to a musician friend, Adolphe Adams, for help.

Adams was a Jew, but he agreed to help his Gentile friend compose a melody for a holiday that Adams did not celebrate, to honor a Messiah that he did not worship. The tune was finished, and three weeks later, “Cantique” was performed for the first time at the midnight Christmas Mass. The song found wide acceptance in churches across France.

But a few years later, Cappeau walked away from the church; meanwhile, French church officials discovered that the music had been written by an unbelieving Jew. They denounced the song as being unfit for worship services, without musical taste, and completely lacking in “the spirit of religion.”

That might have been the end of “Cantique,” except the song found its way to America a few years later, and was given new life by a staunch abolitionist, John Sullivan Dwight. You probably never heard of him – frankly, neither had I – but he prepared and published a new translation of Cappeau’s poem into English. Dwight was especially moved by the third verse of “Cantique” –

Truly He taught us to love one another,
 His law is love, and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,
 And in His Name, all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy, in grateful chorus raise we,
 Let all within us, praise His holy Name:
Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever!
 His power and glory, Ever more proclaim!

There is a legend that says during the Franco-Prussian War in 1871, a French soldier on Christmas Eve stood up, exposing himself to enemy fire, and began to sing “Cantique de Noel.” The Germans held their fire, and when he was finished, a German soldier began to sing “From Heaven Above to Earth I Come,” a Christmas hymn by Martin Luther. Troops on both sides observed an unofficial Christmas truce.

“O Holy Night” became involved in another Christmas miracle of sorts a few years later, in 1906. Reginald Fessenden was a 33-year-old university professor and former assistant to Thomas Edison. On Christmas Eve of that year, using a new type of generator, Fessenden began to speak into a microphone: “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed…”

Across the country, and far out at sea, wireless operators who were used to hearing only coded dots and dashes over their equipment heard a man’s voice, reading them the Christmas story! It was the first known radio broadcast. When he finished reading the story, Professor Fessenden did something even more remarkable. He picked up his violin and began to play a Christmas hymn – “O Holy Night.” And so it became the first song ever heard on the radio.

I love this carol, and it often moves me to tears, in part because of its soaring melody, but also in part because it answers the “So What?” question of Christmas. Jesus came to Earth – so what? He taught us about the love of God – so what? This song reminds us that we must live out the meaning of Christmas in the way that we treat others, to love God by loving our neighbors, and to join the work of Jesus in breaking the chains of sin and injustice. And not just on December 25, but throughout the year.

That really is the best way of “keeping Christ in Christmas.”

Stories for Veteran’s Day

One of the things that I have always appreciated about living in Haskell has been the opportunity – really, the great blessing – of being able to meet and visit with veterans of so many of our nation’s wars over the years. What an amazing archive of experience!

Over the years, I have known men from Haskell, Rule, Rochester, and the entire county, who have shared with me stories of their days in the service. I have been blessed to know guys who were on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day – June 6, 1944. I have known guys who flew 25+ combat missions over occupied Europe in a B-17, and other guys who were with the 101^st Airborne, trapped at Bastogne and surrounded by the enemy during the Battle of the Bulge. I have also known veterans who were part of Patton’s forces that broke through the German lines and turned back that counter-offensive.

I have known guys from the Pacific Theater as well – men who were survivors of the Bataan Death March early in the war, and other guys who were with the Marines who stormed the beaches of Iwo Jima, including one who was with the troops who raised the FIRST flag on Mt. Suribachi. That flag was not large enough to be seen from the Navy ships off the coast, so the Marines raised another larger flag, and it is the picture of that second flag-raising that became so famous.

I knew a guy who was on the island of Saipan during the war. We held one end of a runway, but the Japanese still had the other end of it. He told me the story of how a Marine lieutenant was looking for a way to secure the entire runway, so our planes could use it. Since any approach the far end would mean being under withering enemy fire, my friend was recruited to drive a bulldozer and raise the blade. Then using that dozer blade as a shield and under continuous assault, my friend drove down to the far end of runway and gave cover to the Marines who took the other end of the runway and secured the base.

Where do we get such men?

There was a veteran from here who was in the first wave of troops to hit Utah Beach on D-Day. He told me that the Germans were extremely precise with their mortar fire, and able to drop explosive rounds exactly where they want to on the beach, resulting in terrible American casualties. But, he said, he and the men with him noticed that the Germans were “walking” their mortar rounds back and forth across the beach in a very methodical fashion, so that, by watching where the shells landed and timing their runs across at the right moments, they were able to get inland and take out the enemy positions.

And in so doing, the Allies were able to put 150,000 men ashore in the first 24 hours on the five beaches of D-Day, on their way to destroy Fascism and rescue a continent.

It’s worth remembering that Veterans Day was originally known as “Armistice Day.” It was the day that World War I ended – at the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. That war is personal to me, because my grandfather was a “dough-boy” who fought in France and received a wound in his left shoulder from a German shell that landed behind him. He carried that scar with him for the rest of his life. Grandpa liked to work in the yard with his shirt off, and I can remember as a child, walking behind him and seeing that scar on his shoulder. He would come over to our house for supper and tell my brothers and me stories from the war. Not to glorify the violence or exalt in the killing, but to celebrate the courage of those who were there.

Here’s my grandpa, Stanley Garison (left) with another “dough-boy” during World War I.

And I remember at Grandpa’s funeral – he died on my birthday in 1980, at the age of 81 – the Purple Heart medal that he received because of that wound was pinned to his jacket lapel. The family had agreed that the medal should go to his oldest son, my uncle, who was a career Air Force man. Standing at the casket, my uncle was too overcome with emotion to unpin the decoration, so I removed it from Grandpa’s jacket and gave it to him. I felt very honored to handle, even in that small way, such a treasured piece of our family history.

America has been very blessed over the years that so many have answered the call – men and women who have been willing to “pay any price, bear any burden.” Haskell County is fortunate to be home to so many who have served when and where they were needed. Let us extend to all of them our gratitude for their sacrifice. So to all veterans – thank you for your service. And God bless America.

A Visit to the Hospital

I went out to Haskell Memorial Hospital the other day. I didn’t go as a patient or to receive treatment of some kind, although I have done that before. And thankfully, I wasn’t going to see a sick or injured loved one, although I have certainly done that plenty of times as well. No, this time I went at the invitation of senior hospital management, to take a “behind-the-scenes” tour of the facility and to visit with some key staff members about what working at the eighty-plus-year-old institution is like, and what some of the rewards and challenges are that come from working at the community hospital.

Haskell Memorial Hospital was originally opened in 1939, with funding from a local bond election and a federal PWA grant.

First, a little background. In 1936, Haskell County Commissioners applied for a federal grant from the Public Works Administration to help fund a county hospital. While that paperwork was still working its way through the government red tape, county voters approved a $60,000 bond issue. That was on July 7, 1937 – a remarkable demonstration of vision and forward-thinking community spirit, considering that the country was still in the middle of the Great Depression.

Ground was broken for the new facility on March 9, 1938. Then finally, on June 22, 1938, the county was notified that the grant application had been approved. Construction on the expanded plans continued with a new budget of approximately $100,000, and the hospital opened on October 23, 1939. It was described in the Haskell Free Press as “one of the most modern and up-to-date hospitals in West Texas.” Ex­tensions and new wings were opened in 1952, 1972, and 2015. Unfortunately, the facility is now considered “landlocked,” and cannot be expanded further.

(By the way – were you born at Haskell Memorial? We’re trying to find the oldest person still living in the county who was born at this hospital. If you or someone you know arrived in the old maternity ward in 1939 or 1940, please email or call me ­– haskellstarnews@gmail.com, or 940-864-2810.)

Current Chief Executive Officer Michelle Stevens says that through all the years of its history, the hospital’s mission and purpose have remained consistent. “We are here to serve the community,” she says. “It is absolutely vital that the hospital continues to be available. Most of the patients that we see come from Haskell and all the communities across the county, as well as those from about 45 minutes out in every direction. We are also one of the largest employers in the county, so that is another major benefit.”

Chief Operating Officer – and Rochester native – Mary Belle Olson is proud of the many services that the hospital provides. “If someone needs an MRI or a CT scan, we can do that, right here. We can usually get them in for that procedure within the next day. It’s a lot better than having to wait for weeks for an appointment, then having to drive somewhere.”

I spoke with Louis Enriquez, the hospital’s Chief of Maintenance. He told me that one of the biggest problems they face is the old plumbing and sewer system. “It’s 1939 plumbing,” he said. “Every pipe is old cast iron, and a lot of them have cracks, especially the sewer pipes. They’re all 2” to 4” in size, and a flood is coming – we just don’t know when. It’s going to be a major expense when it fails.” He said the electrical conduits are also a problem. “They’re all very over-stuffed with wires. We really don’t have room to add anything else.” He noted that the concrete walls also make infrastructure repair and replacement a constant headache, and that the basement – where many of the records are kept – often floods following a heavy rain.

Chief Nursing Officer Tammy Mason pointed out that the patient rooms were in serious need of improvements, that most of the rooms did not even have a toilet, and that those that did had doors that were too narrow for a wheelchair or walker to get through. “We are so far out of ADA compliance,” she said, “and if we start trying to fix one thing, we have to bring the entire facility up to date.” She also noted that the rooms are too small for needed equipment and personnel when a patient “codes” and needs resuscitation. Assistant CNO Meghan Shelton added that a more centralized nurses’ station with better access to the ER would also be helpful in managing patient care.

But Nurse Mason also added that she loves being at the Haskell hospital. “We’re a smaller hospital, and I like that we are a lot more family oriented.”

And CEO Ms. Stevens summed up the sentiment that I heard from several hospital staffers. “We have really good people, providing really good care, and we are so much more than just a ‘band-aid station.’ We absolutely want to do as much as we can for someone right here,” she added, “without having to send them somewhere else.”