An old woman in a small Texas town

October 20, 2003

The morning began at the Hampton Inn in Abilene, Texas. I was in room 216 while Grandpa and Grandma Larson were across the hall in room 215. They called shortly before 8:00 AM and we went down to breakfast in the hotel lobby.

I ate a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, a couple of slices of honeydew melon, a piece of kiwi fruit and a blueberry muffin. At 9:00 we headed back upstairs to gather our belongings and check out of our hotel rooms.

The drive to Floydada was fun. The terrain changed frequently. Just outside of Abilene we drove along the north side of a large butte covered with about 100 windmills all of which were busy capturing the power of the wind. Then we ran into a section of plains as we drove through some of the flattest land in the world. That was followed by a trip through land that reminded me of the badlands of South Dakota.

The use of the land changed with the terrain. Cotton, maize and pumpkins were the predominant crops as we neared Floyd County and we saw vast fields of each. We also saw acres of land covered with tall stretches of prairie grass as it rested in the government’s conservation reserve program. Still other land was rocky, mesquite filled scrub.

There are, however, in Texas, two constants and they stayed with us today. Oil rigs and cattle were never far out of site on our drive. They are the common glue that seem to hold this enormous state together.

At 10:50 AM we stopped in the small town of Post, Texas, for a rest. I needed to buy socks - I had forgotten to pack any - and we all needed a restroom. We pulled into a McDonald’s so that we could also get something to drink, “dump it in one end and drain it out the other,” Grandpa said. While the grandparents went into the restaurant, I wandered down to the Dollar Store and found some socks that were a dollar a pair, minimum purchase six pair.

I returned to McDonald’s for a medium iced tea and a small order of fries and then we were back on the road.

20 miles south of Floydada we entered cotton country. The roadsides were lined with wispy links of cotton that had blown off the trucks as they made their way from the field to the cotton gin. The fields that had not been harvested were covered in white. We stopped along side of one and all got out and took pictures.

On the other side of the road sat huge stacks of cotton and a cotton gin that was pushing its’ finished product out onto the flat bed of a truck.

Grandma was really excited to see Floydada again. When we got 14 miles out she said, “I just can’t believe I’m 14 miles from Floydada. I don’t know why but I just can’t believe it.” The closer we got to town the more frequently she strummed her fingers on her leg. We were early and she began to wonder if her sister Ruby would remember we were coming. She wondered if Ruby would be ready for us to arrive so early in the day. She wondered how Ruby was doing.

Ruby is 88 years old. She is exactly 11 years older than Grandma. They refer to themselves as “twins, just 11 years apart.” We got to Ruby’s house at about 12:30. Ruby looked good and met us at the door. She lives in a small duplex that is shaped like a “b” with the circle filled in. The entrance to the house is right at the top of the circle of the “b” where it meets the straight line. A sharp u-turn to your right and you are in a dining room and kitchen. A hallway in front of you leads back to two bedrooms and a bathroom.

We settled into the living room. Ruby doesn’t hear very well and hates wearing hearing aides more than she hates not hearing people talk. As a result, I was never quite sure what she was hearing and what she wasn’t hearing. She also has forgotten a lot of the details of life that aren’t directly related to her. As a result, I wasn’t entirely sure she even remembered who I was, that the last time I saw her was at my wedding or that I was her great-nephew. I also wasn’t sure that she was even matching me up in her mind with my mother. But in the end it really didn’t matter because what she did know was that I was her sister’s grandson and in her mind that was the most important title I could have.

Ruby is the oldest sibling in a large family. She’s also the one sibling that stayed at home in Floyd County. As such, she carries the burden of being the family historian and thankfully is blessed with a great ability to tell stories. Like most people, she has a number of default stories; stories that are used to fill in gaps in conversations. Today, Ruby had two default stories and she used them in just about every gap.

The first is a story that is told to illustrate what she sees as her central role as oldest sister. That is the story of helping raise her siblings. Ruby tells the story of carrying her little brother Warren around. She would carry him in such a way that Warren would sit on her right hip. She would accomplish this by sticking out her right hip while swaying her torso to the left. Her father would always tell her not to do that because she would end up “growing up crooked.”

The second story she tells is no more than a sentence. Sometimes it is a story in and of itself. Other times it is an introduction to a larger story. The story is simply this. “Ruth and I are twins. Only we were born eleven years apart.” Her telling of this story was sometimes followed by an awkward pause as we all waited to find out whether we were getting the full version or the sound bite. Other times, the telling of this story was followed immediately by a continuation of our current conversation as Ruby’s declaration had filled the gap long enough to allow us to collect our thoughts and continue on.

While we heard each of these stories today far more times than I can count. They are both very important and their repetition serves to emphasize exactly what we need to understand about the foundations of Ruby’s relationship with my grandmother. The first realization is that Ruby was a caregiver and to this day sees herself as more of a second mother more than that of a sister. The second realization is that there is a special bond between Ruby and my grandmother that comes from sharing the same birthday. I believe the power of this bond should not be overlooked.

And so our Monday afternoon began. We sat in Ruby’s living room and battled faulty memories, faulty ears and repetitive stories as we struggled to find our stride and establish a conversation.

The conversation truly began when Ruby mentioned that her son Alton thought she had too much stuff and that she ought to throw some of it out. Grandma responded by asking what kind of stuff Ruby had. Ruby’s reply was, “well, I don’t know, but I’ve got a lot of pictures.” Out the boxes and albums came and we spent the next two hours looking through pictures.

The most interesting pictures were, of course, the oldest pictures. Almost all of them had been made into picture post cards and sent through the mail. In addition to containing fading pictures of my great grandparents and other ancestors, these were documents containing a small bit of history and a glimpse into personalities of the people on the front of each card. One was a note from my great-grandma to my great-great-great uncle Edd. Another was a love letter from Ruby to her husband that said, “I hope you are not too lonesome without me,” and detailed the route of her journey home from Arkansas.

150 minutes of pictures was about all Grandpa could take. We closed up the boxes and the books and climbed in the car so that the three of them could show me the place where Grandma and Ruby grew up. I drove, Grandpa rode shotgun and Grandma and Ruby chatted in the back.

As we left the house there were four people in the car with three distinct agendas. I wanted to see everything I could see that related to my grandmother’s childhood but was completely dependent on others for directions. The two women in the back wanted to visit and spend time with each other. My grandfather was hungry. I may have been the driver but Grandpa was the navigator and so at 4:09 PM we pulled into the parking lot of Furr’s cafeteria in Plainview, Texas. Grandpa announced it was time for supper.

Now, I was hungry. We had skipped lunch and it was definitely time to eat. But supper was not a word I wanted to hear. Supper at 4:09 PM means breakfast is roughly 15 hours away. Supper was going to be a big meal. Three thick slices of ham. Baked apples on top of that, please. A side order of green beans and a side order of kernel corn. A salad with ranch dressing and two tomatoes. A slice of pumpkin pie and an ice cream cone too. Iced tea to wash it all down. I finished and looked at my watch. 5:00 PM. Fourteen hours and counting. I wanted to go back for seconds of everything but seconds were only free for those over 60. I missed the mark by 26 years.

It was time to get back on the road.

We left Plainview and headed southeast on Highway 70. At Lockney we turned straight east on Farm Road 97. That took us straight into Cedar Hill, Texas. Cedar Hill was once a one store, two church town. Today it isn’t much of anything. In Cedar Hill we turned north on Floyd County Road 231. 2.5 miles later we were at the land where Grandma Ruth grew up. The land is flat. You can see for miles. What is left of Cedar Hill pops up on the horizon to the south. A field of maize dominates the view east now. To the west and north is simply farmland as far as you can see. I was surprised to learn that a small depression in the land to the northwest had once been a lake. Today it is as dry as can be.

After taking a few pictures we headed back into Cedar Hill. There we stopped and Grandma, Grandpa and Ruby described how the town looked when they were little. A gas station once stood on the Southeast corner of the intersection. It was here that Grandma Ruth and her sister Edith would sing to entertain the neighbors. On the Southwest corner was the one-room, eight grade schoolhouse. To the east of the gas station was the store. This is one of the few buildings that still stands in Cedar Hill. When Grandma was a little girl, she would visit this store every morning. She would sell the store a dozen eggs and use some of the money from the sale to buy a bologna sandwich and pop for lunch.

Just east of the store stood the two-room house where Grandma’s Grandma and Grandpa Cypert lived. The house is still just barely standing today. Grandma would often stay overnight in this house. It was strange to see this house now. It is falling apart and filled with junk. I had a hard time thinking about it as the house of my great-great grandparents.

Grandma also told the story of her walk to school. The walk was two and a half miles long. Grandma says the first one and a half miles weren’t bad but that the final mile wasn’t any fun. There was a boy named Leo who was intent on terrorizing the girls as they walked to school. He had a Shetland pony. As the girls approached his house he would charge out on his pony right at them and terrorize them as they tried to walk to school without getting knocked down by this pony. He had a chant that he said as he scared them. Grandma remembered it. I can’t. But the final word of the chant rhymed with witch.

It is amazing what sticks with us for a lifetime and what we forget just a few hours later.

We’d had a long day. It was time to return to Ruby’s house. We stayed up until 9:30 telling stories and laughing. Grandma said it was just like when she was growing up. What she remembers fondly is a house full of laughter and singing.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003.

Ruby has two bedrooms. I slept on the couch in the living room. This bothered Ruby - she offered to take the couch - but I was just fine and slept well. Sleeping on the couch also gave me a chance to watch the end of a surprisingly good Monday Night Football game between the Raiders and Kansas City.

I woke up at 7:00. Ruby woke up at 7:30. Grandpa and Grandma got up shortly after that. Ruby and Grandma made a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. We visited a bit and relaxed. By this time I had become familiar enough to Ruby that she was beginning to remember both who I was and how we were related. We were all moving slow. It was 11:30 before we left the house.

We headed north. Our first stop was at the Floydada cemetery. I wanted to see the gravestones of grandma’s parents and her grandparents. I wanted also wanted to know where they were so I could find them again. Grandma’s grandparents are in the northernmost part of the cemetery and right along the drive. Grandma’s parents are one section south and much harder to find. Their red gravestone faces west and is blocked by other gravestones and some large bushes. We managed to find both of them, however. I was glad we had made the stop.

We were joined in our look around the cemetery by a skunk. I was shocked to see it wander up directly behind our car. It appeared just as we were getting back in the car after looking at Great-Great Grandpa and Grandma Lackey’s gravestone. It toddled through the cemetery. Our presence didn’t seem to bother it at all. Eventually we saw it crawl in a hole that went underneath an elaborate burial plot. Those people must have been pretty mean to have to share their final resting place with a family of skunks.


From the cemetery it was on to South Plains, Texas. This is another little town that is dying a quick death on the Texas prairie. Ruby lived in South Plains for years. The house that she lived in was originally built on the property where Grandma Ruth grew up. It was the second house that Grandma Ruth lived in on that property. Ruby bought it and had it moved to the Northeast corner of South Plains, just west of the school on Edwards Street. Someone else is living in the house now but we stopped and took a picture of the exterior.

Leaving South Plains was, unknowingly, the beginning of an adventure. We set off to find Rex Yeary’s ranch.

Grandpa and Grandma had talked a lot about this ranch. I assumed it must have some significance to Grandma’s childhood. Turns out it has no significance at all. Rex is a distant relative. His grandmother was Sarah Lackey Beard. Sarah’s sister was Ollie Lackey Cypert. Ollie was my great grandmother. Rex, however, has a beautiful 6,000-acre ranch in Floyd County, Texas. A local newspaper had written an article about Rex’s ranch. My great aunt Edith had sent the article to Grandpa and Grandma Larson. They read the article and decided to try to visit the ranch.

We started our drive to the ranch by driving through Caprock Canyons State Park. It is a 16 mile beautiful drive. The road was rebuilt this summer and it is a fantastic drive. Then we got lost. Ruby had been to the ranch once but this ranch is about as remote a place as one will ever find and Ruby kept missing a critical turn. Finally we pulled into the small town of Flomont, Texas. Our goal was to find a bathroom and directions. I was also thinking we might find a nice small town café and Flomont probably had one years ago. But today, Flomont doesn’t have much. I can’t believe the population of Flomont is more than 100 but it might be. Our first stop was at the post office. This seemed like a reasonable place to ask directions. Unfortunately, the Flomont PO is only open from 9:00 AM to Noon every day. We’d missed the postmaster by 40 minutes. Our next stop was the cotton gin. Grandpa and I got out of the car and began to look around. The place was deserted. Soon, however, we heard a pick up pull up to a fast stop outside. Grandpa headed for a bathroom while I headed back to see if whoever was out there could give me directions.

I was met by Orville Lee. Orville was a bit suspicious at first but quickly warmed up to me. He cut away a section of a box and drew me a map. It turns out Rex’s ranch is about 6 miles and 7 turns away from pavement. We never would have found the ranch without Orville’s map.

Rex’s ranch is beautiful. He lives there with his wife and youngest son who is a senior in high school. They have two great danes, three pet deer and a cat. Not to mention cattle, horses and donkeys. He collects antiques, especially those related to farming and ranching and keeps them in an underground barn. Rex is a great guy and he took time to show us his collection and give us a quick tour of the house and underground barn.

After visiting with Rex for a while, we headed for Lubbock so that I could catch a plane home. I’d never been to Lubbock so we drove through downtown and out through the Texas Tech campus. Tech has what must be the most beautiful, treeless campus in the United States. I was much more impressed than I thought I’d be. We ended up having supper at a roadhouse. Each table got a bucket full of Texas Panhandle peanuts and guests were encouraged to throw the shells on the floor. We ate well and then headed to the airport.