CM, Jr.

Clarence Melvin Raulston, Jr.

(We called him C.M.)


CM and Dorothy's wedding day (21 January 1956)	CM and Dorothy 7 years later.

C.M. is on the right.

I was born in the Northwoods in 1920 in the house where my father and his father were born. I had passed my 19th birthday when I left the farm to seek a new way of life. I had passed my 55th birthday when I returned to the same farm in retirement. I did college work at University of Texas-Austin, Temple university-Philadelphia, TCU-Fort Worth and UT-Arlington. Additionally, I completed many courses of study at professional symposia across the country. I am a life time senior member of The Institute of Environmental Scientists. I tell you all this to give you some idea of the culture-shock I experienced upon my return to the Northwoods after an absence of some 35 Years.

When the telephone man had departed after connecting our four-party telephone, I picked up the receiver and heard some dear lady say, "There jest ain't no tellin' what Jim Ed done with it". I repeated what I had just heard to my wife and all she could manage was a very weak," oh dear." Having been born in the Northwoods and having grown up here, makes me an "insider" who is privy to much information which would require many years of research for an "outsider" to obtain. Those things I do not know by instinct I am allowed to learn by observation and a few careful questions. If my neighbors become convinced that this work will be widely published many doors will close to me. They are eager to have it recorded in the local library in the hope that their descendants will read it and understand the virtues of the " old ways."

In 1926 we made a trip, in a covered wagon, to Millerton, Okla., a distance of some twenty miles from our farm, to visit an older sister to my father and her family. We had to leave early and drive hard to cover that distance in one day. It was understood by all that after a drive like that we would stay for at least a week. As was customary and necessary, daddy tied his saddlehorse, a big bay gelding called Prince, to the back of the wagon. The saddlehorse was the extra car we see tied behind campers going cross-country today. Our family at that time was daddy and moma and three kids, ages two through six, I was the oldest. We crossed the Red River, ten miles North of our farm, on a ferry which was powered by men pulling cables which were anchored to both banks of the river. We arrived about two hours before sunset. Aunt Lela had a grown son called, Alley, who saddled up a horse and he and daddy went racing back to the river and bought a big buffalo fish, then raced back home in time to clean it for supper. (Called dinner today). My parents had loaded a mattress and springs into the back of the wagon. My younger brother, Garland, and I slept there during our visit. I don't remember seeing a single automobile during that entire trip.

Last Updated: 13 November 2007

E-mail Paula Duchesne

Following is an account of things I know from having grown up here knowing the ways of these gentle people.

The native under discussion here is a third generation native of the Pineywoods of North Central Red River County Texas. The term 'native' as used here will signify a group or community of people whose customs, language and culture are limited to a time and to a place. He was born in the Pineywoods in the early to middle 1890s, grew up here, married here, raised his family here and was buried in his community cemetery here. He is descended from the Scots-Irish East Tennessean who came to Red River County in the 1840s, the 1850s and the 1860s with his family and, for the most part , the customs, the language and the religious concepts which we will examine in this paper. He has been written about by ministers, teachers, sociologists and researchers with the only measuring sticks they have - the intelligence, the education, and the class consciousness which was bred into them by their separate and particular cultures. These are not enough because they do not produce in-depth understanding. An understanding of the native, his religious concepts and clannish family life is difficult for these people because of the native's inherent dislike and distrust of the outsider. Living among the natives, even for several years is not enough. One must be born "inside" descend from 'inside" or marry "inside" to be accepted. If the researcher meets one or more of these requirements he can go about his business with a special understanding of the complex protocol of this simple society.

Since the Kennedys discovered the "Under-privileged" in 1960 and Lyndon Johnson decided in 1964 that our native should become a part of the "Great Society", he has been surveyed, measured, charted and tabulated. He has endured all these things with an ingrained courtesy. He has answered the questions of the various agents of government in a friendly manner, but he remains inscrutable. The courtesy and the inscrutability are a shield for his dignity and a mask for his contempt of the questioning outsider. He feels superior to any outsider. He considers the outsider to be inept and foolish, does not like him, and the sooner he goes away, the happier the native will be. To the native the outsider is ignorant of the most basic things. He is loud, he is brash, he has too much energy and he asks too many questions about things which are none of his business. Here in North Red River County we are in the gently rolling clay-sands which produce the large pines and hardwoods which in the early days earned for our area the designation, "The North Woods". When the Tennessean came to our County, if he was the first of his clan to come, he journeyed onward in a southwesterly direction past Clarksville onto Blossom Prairie. After a few miles of seeing nothing but short-grass, wildflowers and a few hardwood trees, he turned and drove with all possible haste back into the timber which was more like what he was accustomed to back home. Here in the big timber he settled and made a home and carved a future for himself and his large family.

Everything the Northwoods Native is, everything he does, and for the most part, everything he thinks, springs from his religious concepts. The Bible is quoted so often as the basis for all major decisions that it is impossible to not know that in his daily life he is guided by the Pauline Epistles. He does not engage in debate because that is argument and variance and is against the Scriptures. The outsider finds a society in which no man seeks a position of leadership. That would be putting yourself forward, thinking that you are something, it would be walking proud." The Native abides by these beliefs in his daily dealings with his neighbors. To tell a lie or to misrepresent anything is unthinkable. A trade or exchange of property is invariably concluded with the admonition " now if it ain't jest like I told you, let me know and I'll make it right." Stealing is held in such abhorrence that to lock your door is to insult your neighbor. Paul writes to him. He tells him what he should believe and how he shall behave . He warns and encourages him, he guides and directs him. Paul grows impatient with him and promises him the kingdom of heaven.

The Native strives to understand and to obey, and he waits for the sweet chariot to swing low and carry him home. He believes in a literal heaven and hell. His heaven is a city where the streets are paved with gold and the gates are made of pearl. He will wear a crown well encrusted with jewels and if he has been instrumental in the saving of souls here on earth, his crown will have stars mounted therein. The Tennessean brought some vague concept of theology to the Northwoods. Since his community was isolated and he and his neighbors were Scots-Irish in origin, he slowly developed his own Bible-based theology founded on the remembered Scriptural basis for the doctrines of Calvin and of John Knox, the Pauline epistles. He passed his beliefs, intact, down to his grandson who is the subject of this chapter. This community has been Baptist from the beginning. Their religious beliefs and practices are fundamental. They do not subscribe to the teachings of Calvin but their customs are those discussed here. As pointed out earlier, these customs are almost the same in any rural community in the Bible Belt regardless of the sect or denomination in charge at the local church. In about 1933 a Presbyterian church was established in this community. It thrives here today (2001) and there is little conflict between the two denominations. The Native grew into his majority circa 1915 and had little contact with an educated minister who got paid for preaching. Preaching is a grace added to a man by the Spirit and he should not use it for profit. The Native believes in a literal interpretation of the Bible. Any verse of any chapter can be quoted as proof of whatever might be under discussion without consideration of the theme of the previous verse or chapter. It certainly is not necessary to research the social and economic conditions of the author to understand what he has written.

The great depression of the 1930s was felt on the farm later and to a lesser degree than in the cities. In the city the family bread winner lost his job suddenly and the family had no recourse except to get in the soup line. On the farm, life's three essentials - food, clothing, and shelter - came directly or indirectly from the land. It meant that we had to work harder and get by with less, especially those items that came from town that cost money. Life on the farm was never easy and it would become even less so during the depression years.

Father was made acutely aware that hard times were upon him in 1933 when younger brother, Earnest G. Raulston, returned to the farm looking for a place to live and the chance to earn sustenance for his family. The next year the other brother, George Farris, returned with his family to seek a new start.

Grandfather William G. had acquired a tract of land across the road North of the home place. The two tracts comprised a total of over two hundred twenty-five acres which was divided between the three brothers in 1934, each taking seventy-five acres more or less. Farris moved into a house across the road that had previously been used as a house for share-croppers. Earnest took the Northeast tract and built his home there.

In 1934 my parents had a family of four boys and a girl. Betty Katherine Raulston was bom September 13, 1924. She died June 2, 1934. In the weeks following the funeral, my Father found it very difficult to come up with the sixty-five dollars he owed for the casket. A badly needed milk cow, stock feed, and other produce had to be sold. My Mother was never the same sweet, pacific person, even after her terrible grief had been assuaged by the soothing lotion of fading memories.

It was a great joy and comfort to her when on August 24, 1938, a second daughter, Cora Sue was born.

In the depression years money was very scarce throughout the nation. This caused prices to be very low. Some prices I remember are: a 48 pound bag of flour cost 65 cents, gasoline was 9 cents per gallon, and cigarettes (ready-rolls) were 12 cents a pack, a boy's overalls were 75 cents, a spool of thread was 5 cents, and ten hours hard work at the sawmill got you 75 cents.

The Bible says, "and that is the end of it." In the 1930s Clarksville was the trade center for an agricultural society and everyone in the rural areas went to town on Saturday. Our native was about 40 years of age in 1934 and his father was a member of the senior generation who was cared for at home by his children and grandchildren. Because of his disabilities this elderly man was not expected to participate in the bone jarring work on the farm and he spent a lot of time studying his Bible and committing an astounding portion of it to memory. It was not unusual, on a Saturday in town during the warm months, to find four pairs of these oldtimers, in separate places, having Bible discussions with a small crowd gathered round lending support with a heart-Felt "AMEN" when a point was well made.


	The old pie safe. [Read about the furnishings of the old house under William M.]

The Great Tornado of '91 Revisited... On Friday evening, 26 April 1991, we watched VCR tapes because there were many deep rumblings in the sky. (We can run the VCR with all external devices, which tend to attract lighting, disconnected). We were therefore not aware of all the tornado warnings. Our house is well insulated with double pane windows throughout and we do not hear a lot of external noises. At bedtime the lady across the road called to say they had been hearing a roar to our southwest for some time. We thought this to be just another approaching thunderstorm - WRONG! - At 10:22 pm I was standing beside my bed, buck naked, adjusting the alarm when I heard what sounded like a J57 in full afterburner approaching from the southwest. I tossed the clock on the bed, jumped back into my khakis, yelled to The Dorothy B. to get into the linen closet (Her little Boston was already there), ran to the furnace closet and shut off the gas, then to the utility room where I pulled the main breaker and rushed to the linen closet to join Dorothy and the dog. Immediately upon my arrival, there was this great crashing explosion in the bedroom where I had been standing, the attic fan louvers flew open almost over our heads, and there arose this loud, eerie, screeching and howling sound as the air rushed out of the house through several flues. I was leaning against the closet door jamb and could feel the house tremble several times. In our memory, this terrifying nonsense endured for no more than 2 minutes then, suddenly, it was very still. I had been holding a flashlight through all this and when it was over, I said to Dorothy, 'I am going outside and look around". She replied, "Just remember, regardless of what you find out there, we are still here'. I thought about that a bunch in the next several days. In the intense darkness with just a flashlight, I did not see much damage. I told Dorothy we were going to need a new roof, but didn't see any other damage - SURPRISE. While I was out there a policeman from Clarksville walked across our pasture with a large, bright light to see if we were OK. He commented that we had suffered a lot of damage, somehow it didn't register. He was searching for the man who lived in a camper, in front of our house who, along with his dog, had disappeared. Turned out he had gone to Paris with friends and had left his dog at their place. His camper and other gear was scattered all over the nearby woods. The time following the storm got all out of focus. The minutes, days and hours all ran together. Shortly after the blow my brother and his wife, Kent and Chris, accompanied by good friends, Frank and Lorraine Faulkner arrived. They reported they had to wait in a couple of spots while trees were cut out of the road. They also reported that sister Sue's house was totaled and the east 1/2 of it had disappeared. That house was located 300 yards to our northeast. It developed that Sue was emigrating from her bedroom on the southwest corner of the house toward the east and when the storm hit she was outside a coat closet off the hallway, which she stepped into immediately. When the blow was finished there was one thin layer of drywall between her and that part of the house which had disappeared. Said she had to hang onto a hanger rod to prevent being sucked out of the closet. Also said she knew she was in trouble when raindrops kept falling on her head. Soon after Frank and Lorraine's arrival their son, Mark, came to report that all the emergency vehicles in Red River County were on our road. We estimated half of them to be in front of our house searching for the old man from the campsite. The men did a recon trip around our yard and discovered a large piece of roof decking from Sue's house in our side yard under the window it had knocked out. That explained the loud explosion in my bedroom. They nailed the decking over the window to keep the rain out. At about 1:00 A. M. we were alone again in our severely damaged home. The power was out but we had lighted an Aladdin Lamp and had several flashlights. Dorothy and I were wrung out and our little Boston, Chelsea, was a total wreck. She still becomes hysterical when she hears thunder. We sat in our side-by-side chairs and talked quietly for a while and gave thanks to the Good Lord that we had heard of no one being injured. Turned out that although the tornado path was 3 miles long by one mile wide, no one was injured because the area is sparsely populated. Next morning I walked outside into an eerie world. There were dark lowering clouds, the air hung heavy with a strange blue fog, there was no breeze and it was so very quiet. The huge grandfather oak in front of our house was uprooted, the large walnut on the west was uprooted and had fallen through our three-car garage. We had three very large pecan trees running east to west on the south of our yard. The one on the east was uprooted, the one in the center was so seriously mangled we had to take it out. The one on the west was a wreck but we saved it. That tree and a pine at the east end are the only shade trees left in our yard. Twenty-two loaded fruit trees in our orchard, only two of which were left standing.

The area around Sue's house looked like an abandoned battlefield. There were 2 acres of very, large pine and red oak around her house before the tornado. Not one stands there today. Sue moved into her new home on that site in February 1994. In the spring of 1996 a small tornado visited the site and took out her large storage house and attached lawnmower shed, but did little damage to her dwelling. She began to wonder if Man Above was trying to tell her something (but I digress).

The silence did not last --- a truck loaded with men from the Mennonite Church arrived at Sue's and proceeded to cut the fallen timber out of her driveway. They then took her remaining furniture to storage in Kent and Chris' garage in Clarksville. Frank and son, Mark, arrived with a roll of roofing felt and nailed it over the bare spots on our roof. While they were up there and I was on the phone with our insurance agency, the ceiling in the parlor fell on the floor and on Dorothy's antique parlor furniture. Ed and Zoe Farmer with son, Rollin, arrived and started cutting and stacking brush. (We were covered in it). Other friends and neighbors arrived and started doing what they could to help. They even brought food. Our house was wet but livable so we opted to stay home. We were without power for three days. A portable generator kept the frig and freezer going. Early in the day I noticed an earnest young man with a clipboard walking around among the workers, surveying the damage and taking notes. When I introduced myself he said he was a contractor from Honey Grove and was going to see to it that our insurance paid the max so he could put our place back together. I gave him directions back to Honey Grove. The near stall of the three car garage was a workshop and a heavy duty workbench caught the walnut tree and saved my pickup and boat. The pickup was dinged up pretty severely but I threw the damaged tailgate away and am still driving without it. A small limb went through the lanyard switch on my boat, but no other damage was found. We had to replace the roof, the ceilings and the floor coverings in the house. We eliminated the detached garage and added a 24 x 26 double car to the west end of the house. Improved the appearance of the place. The old oak barn was a wreck until 1993 when Kent restored it. He owns farm machinery and needed a place to store it . That, Dear Hearts, is what it's like to have a tornado visit you in the dead of night. Our poor little Chelsea is still a nervous wreck. We have to take her to The Room and Groom in Paris when storm clouds threaten. The girls there take very good care of her. They place a loud radio nearby when it gets bad. They say Chelsea prefers Country to Rock. Our outside dog is a small to medium size leopard-spot Heeler, called Bob, who disappeared for three days and nights and reappeared on the fourth day trying to behave as if nothing had happened. Didn't work. In the days that followed he tried to get in my lap every time he saw me sit down! CMR. - 3/94

Today's date is 31 December 2001. When I awoke this morning, a bit after daybreak, I knew, because of the extraordinary brightness in my bedroom there was snow outside. When I went outside I discovered 1/2 inch of powder, the temp. was 26 degrees F, wind was calm, and the sun was rising in a clear sky.

On this date in 1929 we had a very similar snowfall at this same location (The Raulston Homestead) except the snow continued falling in matchhead size pellets, the temp was 30 degrees F, wind was NW 10 gusting 15 and there was a strange darkness in the clouds. Paw said it was because they were so low and light from the snow was reflecting from them like a late afternoon sun shining on dark clouds in the east. The snow continued all day, interrupted every hour or so by a five minute sleet shower. The temp. reached a high of 31 that day. My mother seemed to know we were in for a siege and she supervised Garland and me as we dragged one of the double beds to the fireplace. That bed was occupied at night by Garland, Betty Katherine and me. Herbert Wayne (Hub) age 18 months, slept with moma and daddy in another double bed in that same room. All four kids spent a lot of time in the bed near the fireplace until the blizzard was over.

The second day we awakened to a world covered in deep snow and it was continuing with large flakes falling so thick and fast we could not see the cowpen which was 250 feet from the house. The temp. was 26 degrees F, and the wind was calm. I was nine years old at that time and for awhile it had been one of my jobs to accompany daddy to the cowpen and rope the calf off while he milked the one old big muley Jersey cow we owned. He ordered me to stay by the fire during the storm because we didn't need a kid with pneumonia during that kind of weather. Poor daddy had no help with the outside work in that weather. He had a team of mules, a saddlehorse and a cow and calf to take care of, but his greatest chore was splitting and delivering inside the house enough wood for the cookstove and for the big fireplace which burned 26 inch wood. He had his 36th birthday nine days after the storm started and about two days before we had significant thawing. The temp. kept going lower each night after the snow stopped. About January 5th I was accompanying daddy to the cowpen, the temp was 18 to 20 and when we were walking past the harness shed, where he had his old 1924 Model T logtruck parked, there was a metallic explosion like a bullet striking a cast iron pot. We both knew instantly what had happened and daddy started laughing and when I inquired why he was laughing, he replied," because I don't want you to see a grown man cry." He had drained the radiator but the freeze plugs were rusted and the block cracked.

Moma fretted a lot about our food supply and daddy pointed out her worry was for naught because about three weeks before the storm we had put two 600 pound hogs in the salt box and we had on hand an almost new 48 pound bag of flour and plenty of salt, sugar, soda, baking powder and coffee plus all the garden truck she had jarred during the summer. We did have to keep a bed of coals simmering in the cookstove so the jars of fruit and veggies would not freeze and break during the extremely cold nights which followed the final snow. Both parents had grown up in these conditions. They didn't enjoy it but they knew what had to be done and they did it. Garland and I swapped out drying dishes for moma after she washed them. Even with a fire in the cookstove, that old kitchen was colder than the inside doorlatch in an icehouse. This all happened when we lived in a house where there was no electricity, no radio, no running water and we had not even heard of TV. The outhouse was about 100 feet south from the backdoor of the kitchen. The men and boys used the woods near the barn for spit & whittle and other private activities. There was a dining room between the living room and the kitchen but it was our habit to move the eating table to the very large kitchen during the winter months to take advantage of the warmth of the cookstove.

On January 2, 1930 at about 8:00 pm paw stuck his head in the front door and said "you boys put on your coats and caps and come out here." We struggled out onto the cold north porch where he was and he told us to come over to the edge and hang onto him and listen. It didn't take long for us to know what he was listening to. About one mile to our north in the bottomlands of the Bayou Pecan there was and is a tract of very large virgin timber called "The Lennox Tract " and the huge limbs on those trees had frozen through which made them very brittle and the weight of the snow and sleet was causing them to shear off near the tree-trunk. The sudden shear caused a noise not unlike a keg of gunpowder exploding and the following crash when the great limb hit the ground was more than dramatic, it was downright frightening. There was not a lot of elapsed time between crashes. Paw said "I want you boys to remember that noise and what is causing it. I have never heard anything like it and expect that none of us ever will hear it again." He was wrong about that but we will go there later. There were, of course, similar noises closer to us as smaller limbs sheared off our timber, some of it no more than 150 yards from the house. I do not remember our having lost any limbs off the shade trees near our house. Most of the damage was confined to the pine timber.

About the 10th of January the snow had softened enough that the small animals were leaving tracks and daddy decided it was time to gather some red meat for the table. He rigged snowshoes on me and Garland made from gunnysacks, which we called towsacks, secured to our feet and legs with baling wire, better known as haywire. When completed the snowshoes looked more like burlap buckets than shoes but they kept our feet relatively warm and also prevented our sinking deep into the snow. We were out most of the day and harvested two swamprabbits and two squirrels which improved the tablefare quite a bit over the next few days.

A day or so after the hunting trip I was out at the big barn with paw and for some reason had wandered to the edge of a thicket of field plums where I discovered a mourning dove lying dead on top of the snow and not more than ten steps further a cardinal in the same condition. I went scampering round the barn to paw and told him about my discovery. Daddy always had this manner with me and Garland, when he wanted to convey concern or sympathy, he called us "Hoss". When I escorted him to my dead birds, he stood silent for a moment then said "Hoss, there is not a thing you can do for them, they just fell out of the sky. The snow has covered the seeds of the fields so long the birds are starving and they can't find water. If it would make you feel better, go get a couple of heads of maize and scatter the seeds around, you might help a few of them make it to till the snow thaws."

I have thought of the snow and ice storm of the first ten days of January 1930 many times and have concluded that the most significant damage caused by that storm was to the wildlife.

When I was 14 or 15 years old a feral Razor Back Boar came out of the Pecan Bayou Bottoms and paid our part of the Dimple Community an unwelcome visit. He was solid red with a long snout containing two 6 inch, yellowed tusks which curved slightly toward his eyes and he smelled like a garbage dump from Hades. He stood about 26 inches at the shoulder and paw said even in his sorry shape he would go about 400 pounds. It was mid-summer and the flies, lice and mosquitoes were chewing on him and you could see the misery mixed with the meanness in those little slit eyes and know instantly it wouldn't do to let that beast get too close, just as his ancestral instincts told him to never enter a yard or a house containing humans.

The men started prowling the trails we called roads with their trusty double barreled shot guns, most of which were loaded with buckshot. The purpose of the prowling was to make sure everyone knew the old boar was in the neighborhood so the women and kids could be kept close to the house. It would, of course, make life simpler if the old hog wandered out into the road near one of those shotgun wielding farmers.

About the fourth day after the first sighting I was on the back porch during the noon hour when I spotted the old hog rooting in the loose hay in front of the barn hall about 250 ft. from where I was standing. Our favorite milkcow, called Beauty, out of curiosity started rooting him with her horns. That old boar did a split-second spin and Beauty fell down then jumped up and hobbled off carrying her right front leg. I instantly ran screaming through the house shouting, "the hog got beauty, the hog got beauty," and moma came screaming right behind me because she thought the hog had attacked my two year younger brother, Garland. When we got to the to the front porch where daddy was sitting jacked back against the wall in an old ladderback chair he jumped up so rapidly his chair went skittering across the porch into the front yard. Soon as he could make sense of what was happening, daddy grabbed his double 12 and a handful of shells then vaulted off the end of the porch and headed for the barn with Garland and I in close pursuit. All the commotion had frightened the old boar and he ran into the woods and headed for the creek.

Soon as daddy saw all the blood around the little Jersey, he turned to me and said, "tell your moma to tear up lots of rags into 4 to 6 inch strips and you draw up a bucket of water then bring the rags and water to the cowpen quick! then he turned to Garland and said help me get that little cow in the pen." We staunched the blood with some of granny's herbs mixed in ashes (a premix which was kept on hand) and dressed the wound with a mix of kerosene and creosote and tar. Best I remember the herb mixture was a powder composed of 1 part alum powder - 1 part flax seed meal - 1/2 part salsylic acid. - 1 part hardwood ash. Store in powder form. Make a paste to apply.

Soon as we got the cow properly tended paw turned to me and said, "go tell Walter Vickers what happened (we had heard their milkcow was attacked the day before) tell him to bring his gun and go by Uncle Jimmie's house and pick up a couple of men. We are gonna organize a Hawg Hunt! As I was leaving I heard Paw say to Garland, "You be careful to keep a sharp watch going through them woods, that old rascal is off to your south but the wind is from that direction, so I don't think he will catch your scent. You go to Ul's house first then wait 'til he is ready and come back with him and remind him to pick up Ike along the way."

From what I heard daddy say to Garland I knew the following. Daddy had chosen to send Garland down the danger trail because Garland was larger than I and stronger and could run faster, jump higher, and shinny up a tree quicker than I and would therefore have a better chance to survive a charge by the old boar. I remember thinking I hope UL doesn't bring that lil' ole target rifle of which he is so proud, if he shoots that big boar with it he will make him very mad. I also knew Garland would be returning by car because UL Thompson owned the only Model A Ford in the community and enjoyed driving it at every excuse. Paw had chosen to remain on guard with his double 12 and pocketful of No. four squirrel shot. I remember asking him years later what he thought he could do with No. four shot in a lobrass shell against a big rancid boar like that. His reply. "That old turkey gun had a 36 inch barrel and the left side was modified choke, from 12 to 15 feet I could blow a 3/4 inch hole plum through his head." I then asked, " do you think you could have held steady for that big boar to come that close?" His reply. "A man is more apt to be steady when it's life or death."

Garland and I had a Boston/Pit bulldog at the time, called Ben, who stood about 18 to 20 inches at the shoulder and weighed 30 to 35 pounds and it was all muscle and grit. Ben would have been an excellent catch dog if we could have convinced him to catch the hog or cow at the head, but Ben preferred to not get mixed up with all those teeth and horns, so he went for the tail. Ben popped the tail off several of our cows in the middle 30s. Our dad had to be the most patient man in the county to tolerate that and the screwworm treatments which followed. These treatments were a gruesome procedure which continued until the weather turned cold and the flies went away. I have always thought that old Ben's habit of going for the tail saved his life in this incident.

The men soon gathered at our barn and headed off toward the creek in the direction the big hog was traveling when last seen. Paw ordered Garland and me to stay on the back porch until the show was over. Soon after they left, there arose this din of hog/dog noises down on the creek about 300 yards South of our barn. We could tell old Ben was in attack mode because of the fierce growls and sharp barks and the squeals from the old hog. Soon the dog noises fell silent and Garland and I looked at each other in panic for fear old Ben had cashed in, but then we heard the big boar coming toward us through the brush like like a freight. There were still no dog noises but the old boar was squealing in pain. That and Ben's silence told us he had some part of that old boar in his deathgrip. Soon the hog came round the southwest corner of the harness shed which was no more than 60 feet from us when we caught sight of Old Ben he had hold of something near the root of that big hog's tail and he didn't have a foot on the ground. Ben was being towed so fast that every time his feet hit the ground, he bounced back into the air. When they rounded the northwest corner of the harness shed and headed East toward the big barn we could see in detail the awesome damage Ben had done.

Ben had chosen the upper end of the pouch which contained the old boar's family expectations as the site for his deathgrip. When they rounded that second corner, only the bottom 1/3 of the pouch was still attached to the hog. The dog was attached to the part which had torn loose. When they arrived at the barn a strange thing happened. The old hog gave up and started trying to sit on the little dog's head. Ben allowed the hog to lower his rear just so far then gave a mighty heave in the up direction, the old hog squealed and jumped to his feet then the procedure was repeated. This little game had gone but a very short time when the Great White Hunters arrived on the scene. The first to arrive was UL Thompson who was a WWI Vet and the youngest in the crowd. He started to take aim at the hog with a single barrel 12 gauge when someone ran up and bumped him off balance. A heated discussion was starting when Ul's older brother, Ike, grabbed his arm and shouted "haven't you looked at that hog? Don't you see the damage that little dog has done? All we have to do is rope him down and finish the job." When the men got the hog subdued and roped down Garland and I raced to the barn for a closer look. Ben was still attached to the hog but when paw put his hand under Ben's throat and ordered him to turn loose, old Ben backed away. One of the very few times I saw old Ben voluntarily surrender his deathgrip. After Garland and I had our fill of the gore daddy said "Take your dog to the house and take care of him". When we got Ben on the porch and were trying to wash off some of the blood we discovered that at sometime during the fight the old boar had cut off about an inch of the tip of Ben's shoulderblade.

After the men completed the surgery on the hog and packed the wound with tar and creosote one of them produced a claw hammer and knocked out his tusks and released him. Next day moma was giving daddy a hard time about releasing that dangerous beast to roam the community. Daddy told her that after what that hog had been through he would have nothing more to do with the settlements and as a bar (Barrow) he will lose the stink and when the mast crop falls he will grow fat and make someone a good meat hog. Those were the depression years and that kind of wisdom allowed a lot of people to eat better.

Since Dorothy wants her part of this report to be a medical journal, I will do her part first. She continues to see her circulation specialist at six-month intervals and approaches each appointment with him with all the anxiety she can generate - which is a bunch. Last time - early Nov. - he told her she is doing so well, wait a year to come back. She visited with this guy on her 73rd birthday - November 25, 1983 - when he told her if she doesn't stop smoking her feet will fall off. Can you imagine her falling for a line like that!! She smoked like a torch til midnight then chucked them out and has not taken a drag since. After 43 years on the weed, she quit cold turkey. Three months later - February 1984 - we were having a quiet evening with the tube when she sez, "Didn't you tell me that you would stop chewing if I stopped smoking"?? "THAT WAS TEN YEARS AGO" sez I. " Doesn't matter," sez she, "A promise is a promise". Went back and forth like that for a while with the upshot being I threw out the Days'O'Work and haven't had a taste since. Only place I miss it any more is when I shove off from the dock over at the Crappie Hole; I slap the right hip pocket where I carried the stuff most of my life.

From the Polytechnic (Fort Worth, Texas) High School Annual dated 1927.

Court House Stew

I cooked this stew the very first time in October, 1984 for the ladies of the Red River County Historical Society during their Fall Bazaar. I cooked ten gallons in a fifteen gallon wash pot over a wood fire on the courthouse lawn, hence the name. The formula was ad lib, there have been few changes. The following measurements will yield about one gallon of stew. It can be expanded by increasing all ingredients proportionately. I am going to assume everyone who might want to give this recipe a try is an adult with time in the kitchen and I, therefore, need not explain such mundane details as how to make bacon crisp without scorching it.

3 lb. very lean, boneless beef cut into 1/2 inch chunks.
1/2 lb. lean bacon
1 cup potato - diced.
1 cup carrot - sliced.
1 cup celery - chopped.
1 8 or 10 oz. can cream of mushroom soup.
1 can sliced mushrooms with juice.
1 can sliced water chestnut.
1/2 cup red bell pepper - coarse chop.
1/2 cup onion - coarse chop.
1 Tbsp. Cavender's all purpose Greek.
1tsp. garlic powder.
2 Tbsp. brown sugar - not packed.
1/2 cup red wine.
1/2 tsp. Cayenne pepper.
salt and black pepper to taste.

In a large, heavy skillet, cook the bacon until it is crisp. Remove the bacon to drain and sear the beef in the drippings, remove from heat, cool a bit then add 1 cup water and return to heat. Bring to simmer and let burble til almost tender. (about 1&1/2 hours) Stir occasionally and sample frequently near end of burble time. - DO NOT OVER COOK ! WE ARE GOING FOR A STEW WITH TEXTURE HERE - NOT MUSH. While beef simmers, put 1 qt. water in a six qt. pot and bring to a slow boil then add carrots. Return to boil and time for 5 minutes boil time then add potatoes boil 5 minutes then add celery and boil 5 minutes (remember all is slow boil). after onions have cooked about 5 minutes, add beef and water mixture. Stir well and turn heat down below boil. Place all remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl and stir with a large spoon until well blended then add to stewpot and turn heat up to slow boil add water to cover. Cook about 30 minutes and serve hot. Bears reheating several times. Add water as needed.

Creator Comment: If you add green beans, corn nibblets, green peas or heaven's sake, butter beans, you get a concoction with a hobo whang with which people of good taste will have naught to do. I find it helpful to prepare beef and veggies before cooking starts. Return beef to fridge and cover veggies with water to retain color and texture until it is their turn in cookpot. A good stew is judged in order of importance, Taste - Texture - Appearance.

(From Paula 31 August 2001)... Uncle C.M. worked at LTV (now Lockheed Martin) and he and I share several friends that still work with me. One of the friends, Harley, has several memories as he's been on business trips with Uncle C.M. to Buffalo, New York and other places. He remembered things like when they went to lunch Uncle C.M. always got green Jell-O. He remembers that he had a frequency hearing loss and could hear lots of things but some he could not. He remembers waking up one morning in New York to three feet of snow - and Uncle C.M.'s reaction as they headed to their business meeting. He remembers the first time they saw a Datsun 240Z. Harley said that Uncle C.M. said, "What the hell kinda name for a car is 24 ounce?" Harley asked me to remind Uncle C.M. of these things, and here is Uncle C.M.'s response to me:

Yes my hearing did improve to a remarkable degree after a couple of years in mother nature's anechoic chamber. This is a comment upon the silence and acoustics, not upon improved auditory accoutrements. When I go onto the patio on a morning when the stuff dripping from the house is condensate, not rain, the temp is around 60^oF, full light but before sunup, I can hear the noise of tires on the pavement of our lonesome little Farm to Market a distance of 3 miles! If a military aircraft approaches, the first noise I hear is like a distant rumble of thunder and there are no intake noises until he is almost directly overhead. With the 747s on the DFW - St. Louie - O'Hare run the intakes
are audible sooner. During those rare moments when there is no traffic noise and no aircraft overhead, I hear the birds do their sleepy twittering from the brambles along the creek some 300 yards to the south, I often take a long look at the 747s leaving contrails at 35k and I mutter, "You poor slobs! you really don't know what it's all about."

A message from C.M. Raulston to Paula Raulston Duchesne after a fishing trip with his brother, Kent, and Frank Faulkner, October 20, 2001 @ 11:56 pm: Trip is finished, got boat parked in garage at 5:00 pm. I have been sound-a-sleepy-bye in recliner since that time. (Note time of day this missive) Frank showed up 5;00 am in new 3/4 ton - four door - 4 wheel drive - Chevy pickup, dark gray. He and I were ready to go but no Kent in sight. We called and he was up but just barely. He urged us to go ahead but I told him to come out immediately and we would have coffee ready. He did and we had coffee and toast all round then departed at 6:15, only 15 minutes late, said Chris awakened him and told him his clock messed up and alarm didn't sound. Launched the boat before sunrise, three men in one boat fished all day, caught six keepers, released them, loaded boat and came home. At your age we would have considered it a weary and unsuccessful day, but we thought it to be very nice. Good food, good company, perfect weather, not many boats and peaceful. As I have said many times, "when you are young, you learn how to catch fish, but when you grow older you learn how to go fishing.

Getting sleepy again so, as WWII correspondent, Lowell Thomas, always said when signing off.

So Loonngg for now.

Ode Unk.

Clarence M. Raulston, Jr.'s Child - Brenda


Brenda in junior high.	Patience will soon be 11. (1/5/02)

Kent, Brenda, Mary, and Chris.

Paula, Brenda, and Michelle, about 1980.


	Brenda and Patience in about 1992.