| 19 | Spring | 92 |
|---|---|---|
| PO Box 522 | PAMPA, TX | 79066-0522 |
| Volume 1 | of the family, by the family, for the family | Issue 4 | 806 669 6009 | Family Photo | Chicken Thief! | Wheeler Park Reserved Second Reunion | Good Ole Days Thank You | Descendants | Cousins by the Dozens | When... |
puzzler@pan-tex.net |
Family PhotoElmeda Elder sent me the photographs below and on page 16! From left to right, Dale is standing behind Louada (Dicks widow) and Francis, Bill Watts is seated. Next is Virginia and TJ Patterson standing behind Ed. Pete is standing behind Monta Faye and EJ (Orb's son) is sitting. Warren and Elmeda are standing behind Orb.
Chicken ThiefWhat really happened! Wait a minute, let's get this story straight! True, Ed was laid up with a broken leg, and it is also true that I chased him up the wall with a butcher knife. Mama was washing clothes, the first step in thosed days meant "boiling them" in a big iron "wash pot" over an outdoor fire. She had used the butcher knife to chip up the homemade lye "laundry" soap to put in the wash pot with the clothes and had put the knife on the cabinet, out of my reach (she thought). In addition to having a broken leg, Ed had been ill, running a high fever or something. He was on the mend, but, mama didn't think he should eat solid food such as beans, fried potatoes and cornbread. She had evidently nursed a bunch of us through the winter of illnesses with chicken soup. She was running out of chickens and had to resort to little "one serving size" chickens. Thier little drumsticks were bite size morsels about 2 inches long. Naturally, she couldn't cook a dozen of them at a time for the family, so she just cooked one at a time for Ed, while the rest of us had to eat standard fare. He had been tantalizing me, offering me a bite of his chicken. Time after time I would get down from the dinner table and go to his bedside. Time after time I would get down from the dinner table and go to his bedside. About the time I'd open my mouth to take a bite, he would jerk it back and put it in his own mouth. After he had completed smacking his lips over the last of his chicken soup, without ever giving me a bite, I quietly and purposefully went to the cabinet where I had seen mama put the knife. By standing on tip-toe, I could reach it. Dad was still in the house for dinner and was able to catch my arm in mid-swing and prevent me from going chop, chop on Ed's good leg as Ed was screaming bloody murder and trying to climb the wall to stay out of my reach. And, I wasn't threatening. I meant business! And, I was just getting even! Now, as Paul Harvey would say, you know the rest of the story. Monta Boyd Wheeler Park ReservedJust a quick note to let you know that the park has been reserved for June 13, 1992. I will try to line up tables a little later on. Remind everyone to bring their lawn chairs. The swimming pool should be open by then, but I don't know for sure. Some of the kids may want to go.Everyone here is doing ok as far as I know. Hope to see everyone in June. Jerry Watts Second ReunionThe second "Watts" family reunion will be held on the second Saturday of June (June 13th) at the Wheeler park! See ya'll there!
The Good Ole DaysMama was a busy woman, keeping our family fed, our clothes clean (on a rub board) and patched, without any conveniences. Through her efforts, we never went to bed hungry, and when our clothes became too ragged for patches she would use the best parts of them for quilts to keep us warm in the winter. She simply did not have time to tell us very many fairy tales and bed-time stories.One such time was when Kenny's bones were growing faster than his voice, dad was telling us a tale about when he was a growing boy, "Oh, about Dale's (Kenny's) size." Kenny looked down at him and squeaked, "Daddy, you are not that big yet!" Our mother only went to the third grade with her education. During those years, it was thought that educating a female was senseless. Dad fared a little better. I think he got as far as the eighth grade before he had to drop out and go to work to help support the younger brothers and sisters. Each generation, I suppose, wants their offspring to escape the hardships they have endured. In mom and dad's mind, the only method of escape was education. When Elmeda and Ed started to school mama relearned to read by reading with them in their primary readers. Mama and daddy became avid readers, and urged all of us to read, learn and to become all that we could be. I don't think it is humanly possible for any woman (or man) to have physically worked any harder than mama did in pursuit of her main goal in life; to see that her children got an education. All of us have high school diplomas or better. Reading was our source of entertainment and amusement in the winter. We would merge in the story. The characters became real to us. We felt their emotions. We lived their trials and tributes with them. On one such occasion, when Kenny and I were the only kids left at home, mama was seated by the south window, deeply engrossed in her book, holdinng her magnifying glasses in such a way she could read, I was somewhere in the middle of the room with my book. Dad was seated in his chair that he had built. (His chair spent its summers out in the yard and winters in the house). Kenny was laying on his stomach on the couch, his head hanging off the edge reading his book, which lay on the floor. In daddy's book, the cowboys and Indians were having a serious conflict. As an Indian was sneaking up behind a cowboy hiding behind a boulder, preparing to take his scalp, daddy was mentally yelling for the cowboy to look around. Kenny's cowboys were having a duel. There was an owl in the woods. The cowboys would turn and shoot when the owl hooted again. It was a tense moment for dad and Kenny both, with daddy squirming with agitation and trying so hard to alert the cowboy to his fate and Kenny cringing, hardly daring to breathe while waiting for the owl to hooot. A log rolled over in the stove, sparks flew, daddy's book hit the ceiling and he yelled "Whooee!" and Kenny fell of the couch with a thud. Now that was entertainment! (and amusing too) Does anyone want to hear about the time daddy woke himself up snoring? Love all of you, Thank You!I would like to express my gratitude to those of you who have made this newsletter possible, to those of you who have contributed stories and to those who have offered financial support. What follows is a summary of my expenses and where the funds come from, again thanks!
DescendantsThe listing that I enclosed with this newsletter still has a lot of information missing. Birthdays would be interesting as well as kin along other lines. I would like to complete this listing of descendants of Ludwell P. Watts and make it available to the family.If my count is correct, Richard Albert Jr. has 26 grandchildren (14 boys and 12 girls), 34 great grandchildren (16 boys and 18 girls) for a total of 60 (30 boys and 30 girls). Can anyone tell be if there are any great, great grandchildren? Roy A. Watts Cousins by the DozensI recognize only a few of these faces. From the right, John Grimes is squatting next to Kelly, Don Campbell is behind Kelly looking up at Shelly Allsup. Next to Shelly is Carol Mink, Danny Reed is to the left and behind Carol, I'm standing to the right behind Shelly, next to me is Louis and Pamela.As for the rest of the clan, I'm afraid I'll need a little help identifying who is who. Thanks again to Elmeda for providing the two photographs.
When are we gonna get There?How many of you remember those long trips when you were little? Somewhere in the back of my mind are memories but my last trip down to my dad's abruptly drew them out when Levi prompted the question "When are we gonna get there?"Putting myself in his shoes, especially remembering my experiences, I felt for the little guy. What could I say that he could understand? His concept of time hadn't yet develped but he did understand the number of towns we had left to go through. Levi would ask me to name off the towns we had left and, as I stated each one, he kept track. When I'd say Pampa, he'd perk up and say "That's where we're going!" and then he'd tell me how many towns we had left. Then I came up with the bright idea of a seemingly short cut. "Take a nap and it will seem like we took a short cut." Now he doesn't ask "When are we going to get there?" rather "Are we going to take the short cut?" Cindy, my wife, heard it once and I proceeded to explain. I'll have to admit, that's a memory in itself! Just one of the things that goes on in our part of the world. Roy A. Watts | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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