Spreading Wing

The following posts will be excerpts from my books, Spreading Wing, Forever Cry, Dead-Eye Samantha, and The Truest Friend: The Legend of Tooter.

My first book, Spreading Wing, consists of 442 pages of true stories of the Gillum Clan, such as those below. It was self-published, and can be found at amazon.com. 2,200 copies are now in circulation. For a personalized copy, contact me at barbandpat66@suddenlink.net.

   

The first Gillum domiciliary to be built in the Ouachita Mountains ascended at Wing, Arkansas. The large family arrived in 1898 by oxcart. The home was built atop the first ridge as the Ouachita Mountains arise from the north side of the Fourche La Fave River Valley. Two miles of flat, fertile bottom land stretches out below, cut by the meanderings of Stowe creek, the primary watering source of the livestock. It is surrounded by hundreds, or thousands, of acres of hardwood forests and fertile fields. Many more fields appeared as more and more crops were planted, but most reverted back to timberland, again, as the overworked soil played out and row crops diminished and virtually disappeared.

    

    The river, two miles away, drifts lazily along the base of the south mountains, Fourche Mountain arising steeply from the south river bank. The south mountains arc into a concavity, not unlike the cleavage of a modest, beautiful woman, to allow Barnhart Creek to rush from the south mountains to meet the river. This is the spectacle I awoke to every morning, for the first seventeen years of my life, from my bedroom window. One might think it would become routine. It never did.

     My Dad arrived at that hill a young boy of five. He was destined to live out his life, on and around that hill. From the look in his eye as he contemplated that valley, I don't think it ever became humdrum to him, either. Dad moved four more times in his life, but he was always within short shouting distance of that hill.

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     Dad was once engaged, but his future wife died. Dad had built a home in the meadow for her. Grandma, Hallie, (Dad’s         unmarried sister,) and all the remainder of the family loved her.   When Dad and Mom, Cornelia Irene Lazenby, later married, they did not live in the house in the meadow initially, but on the hill with Grandma and Hallie, who was a Peabody College trained teacher. There was no electricity in the meadow house.

      Even though Mom was very hard working, kind, gentle, and loving, Grandma, and even Hallie, on occasion, were harsh in judging her. Her life was miserable.

     Sarah Turner once said, “The first woman, who died, is put up on a pedestal. No wrong can she ever do.” I think that was at work here. After three children - Harry, Harold, and Jonnie, Mom wanted out of that house. They moved to the house in the meadow, with no electricity. Jan was born there.

     Later, they moved to a third house, the “Other House.” (The Marion Turner house.) It was bought by Dad along with twenty seven acres after it was repossessed. It was larger than the meadow house, and the family was growing. Barbara was born there.

      After Hallie and Grandma died in 1941, the move back up on the hill closed out the moving triangle, all within “hollering” distance of each other. I was born there, the youngest of my generation.

     Now that you have somewhat of an idea what Mom faced, moving in with all those dominant Gillums, I have a very fitting little story that I love. After Dad and Mom married, a picture of Dad's dead sweetheart continued to hang on the wall. After a time, a picture of Searce Pickens, Mom's old sweetheart, showed up on the wall also. Stirring up the situation somewhat was the fact that Searce Pickens was now working for Dad. After a time, both pictures came down. Mom had beaten the Gillums at their own game. A very rare occurrence.

I can find no other source that gives anything other than the highest praise to Hallie. She was obviously a wonderful influence in the lives of all her students, and was dearly loved by all others who speak of her. But my brother Harry related to me why life became so unbearable for my mother in that house. He was there, in that house, and he was old enough to see. And hear.

*

 

  JR Turner was sweet on Ruby, Mom's younger sister. The romance dragged on. Grandpa Lazenby was not big on long romances without a wedding ring. His oldest daughter had gotten into trouble like that. He asked, “When are you getting married?”

    “I need to save just a little more money.” This went on and on. He probably did need more money, for this was at least close to the time of The Great Depression. But JR also had a wanderlust. He could not settle down to one place easily, and I suspect responsibility for a wife at that time sat heavily on his shoulders. The California sisters sent money, and Ruby was headed for California. She entered into a romance with Homer Greear. Marriage was looming. But before that happened, she went back to Wing for a visit. The old romance started to heat up. Grandpa Lazenby met JR at the front door one night, to again discuss his intentions. JR still was not quite ready to settle down. Grandpa called Homer Greear and warned him. Homer jumped in his car, drove straight through to Wing, scooped up Ruby, fled to California, and married her.

JR continued his wandering ways. He would be here, then gone. Be here, then gone. For many years. I always loved talking to him. He would show me gold and other treasures, found in Mexico “a thousand miles off the blacktop.” Such stories fueled that wanderlust desire in me.

     But when my time came, and I had to make my decision after college to “Scoop Barbara Sue up and marry her,” or see the world, I saw at least three other guys looming on the horizon who wanted to marry her, also. I wanted her more. We raised a great family, Corey and Kinley. They produced wonderful grandchildren for us, Caylie, Christian, Jordan, Jackson, Carson, Cati Beth, and Jett, who was, sadly, stillborn. We retired. I was pleased to discover Barbara loved to roam the world every bit as much as I do. So, after our early retirement, we found ourselves spreading wing and seeing the world. We have visited all fifty states, and we have seen every continent except Asia and Antarctica.

     By the way, you don't happen to know anybody who would like to lease our house for a year, do you? It's on the market. We have done this before, and if it happens again, we'll be outta here!

For many years, when JR saw a member of my family, he always asks about Ruby. At one hundred, he still did. He looked great. He moved around well. But his short term memory recycled very fast. When we have to tell him, again, that Ruby has been dead many decades, he begins the mourning process all over again. But it does not last long.

The last time I talked to JR, His memories were essentially gone. He made no mention of Ruby. He had, at last, been released from his lifelong agony of loving, and losing, Ruby. JR passed away in 2012 at the age of one hundred two.    CONTINUED