Oak Trees

There was an oak tree here in the back yard when Mother started building this house.  Daddy said it was about 6 inches in diameter when he was doing some clearing and fence work for his Grandfather back in the 40s.  Grandpa Hamm told him to leave it for shade.  It was in the middle of a fence line then. 

It grew to a monstrous size over the years, but developed a hollow all through the main trunk.  Hurricane Rita shredded every leaf and she was never the same after.  Finally, she was bare and dying.  Rock had a fellow with a big enough chainsaw come cut her down.  Laying on her side she was seven or eight feet in diameter where the branches started. 

There were many fish fries and barbecues under that old tree.  There was a swing that soothed me through many an anxious childhood trial.  The photo with this letter shows three of the four daughters left behind by her.  The cows enjoy the shade and acorns now.  There is one nearest the house he is planning to move the fence behind so we will have a shade tree in the back yard to gather around again. 

There is one memory that has come to the front for me lately.  Our central air conditioner has had a couple of problems this summer.  Made me think of how we used to live.  We had a window unit in the living room and one in Mother’s bedroom.  We have an attic fan that still works.  The window unit is mounted in the wall in the living room since Mother added on to the house in ’86. We added the central air when we moved in here in ’04.  I’m not even sure if the window unit still works. 

Nevertheless, my memory turned back to the summer of ’77.  At least, I think it was that summer. Might have been the one before or one after.  Mother wanted to redo the kitchen.  She wanted to rearrange the cabinets and hired a carpenter to come in and do it.  What to do for cooking while the kitchen was out of commission? 

In those days, eating out was a very rare occasion.  We usually only ate out when we went to see Daddy when he came in port or on one of the rare shopping trips to Beaumont.  Luby’s and later, Piccadilly cafeterias were Mother’s favorites.  The Monterey House or The Schooner were also occasional choices.  Locally, there was a Dairy Queen and a Pizza Hut.  There was a place in Spurger that made great hamburgers.  That was it. Convenience foods found in the freezer were Banquet TV dinners and frozen pizzas.  If there were microwaves then, only rich people had them.  Folks bought groceries and grew gardens and cooked from scratch in this part of the woods. 

What about not having a kitchen to do all that?  Mother set up a screen house and a canopy right under that old oak tree.  She set up a long folding table and a card table and the lawn chairs and what have you.  A cook stove and the water hose and the refrigerator moved out of the way in the dining area next to the kitchen along with the deep freezer and she never missed a beat.  We stayed out there all the time it seems.  Of course, I was a kid and that was a long time ago.  My brother could probably fill in more details and we have a couple of friends who were always there.  He is gone now, but she could provide some details, too, no doubt. 

Growing up, we lived closer to nature than we do now.  The windows were open unless it was blowing rain or too cold.  The attic fan drew in the air. Sometimes it was hot air, but moving over perspiring skin was cooling.   Even in winter, we slept without heat.  The propane heater was lit each morning. I don’t know of a time it was left on during the night.  We all had electric blankets. That helped a lot.  There are many days in winter no heat is even needed.  The days are mild and pleasant.  The windows would have been open back then.

If it was just me, I would run the central air and heat less often.  I would get rid of all the carpet in the back half of the house and situate more of the furniture away from the windows. Except the beds.  The beds are best left in front of the windows to catch the draft from the attic fan pulling the cool night air through the house.  The night sounds are soothing to the soul and the gentle light from the moon is magical. 

One fall he and I turned the central unit off and lived with the attic fan until it was too cold to have the windows open.  I have clear memories of lying there next to him in the moonlight with the draft passing over us.  There was something magical about those quiet moments with him I pray remember when the days of my life are closing. 

There are so many treasures in my memory of our loving each other these many years.  I continue to work toward creating more treasured memories with him all the time.  What would I have done without him always being my champion and hero?  His courage and stubborn will have saved us more times from more enemies than I can ever enumerate.  But He keeps track and rewards him with His mercy and grace.  His faith in our Lord is an anchor I hold on to through the rough times.  I am grateful beyond words for him.

I have drifted all over the place with my thoughts here.  But, isn’t that the way of memories?  They come trickling in and then they flood through the mind and heart washing us along in the current.  I’ll keep seeking the ones in the past to relate to the little ones and keep creating ones in the present to cherish as time passes. 


I always tease him that he only does the yard work that can be done on a tractor or riding lawn mower. And sometimes will run the chainsaw. But he is very good with that tractor. A friend observed him moving a large tree that had been cut down. He used the hay spear and our friend described the scene as his using the spear like a pair of tweezers precisely placing the log where he wanted it on the big fire pile we had blazing.

The other day he was working on cleaning up the cow pen. There were several mounds of hay and manure accumulated from a couple of winters’ feedings. He used the front end loader to smooth the ground level. He needed to get next to the fence posts. I was perched up on the hay bales right next to the fence posts. I watched him ease that blade within an inch of the post and carefully drag the muck clear without touching the post.

I’ve seen him, helped him really, use that tractor to move deer stands through obstacle courses through the woods and up and down hills and ravines. He raises the front end loader up to the side of the stand and straps the stand to the bucket. Then he lifts the whole thing intact and drives along with it bobbing out in front of him. He dodges trees and ruts and whatever to get to his new spot picked out.

Recently he got off in a bad place that didn’t have a bottom to it. Sunk her deep in a boggy spot. Our son came to help and the two of them worked out a system using two heavy duty pickup trucks, a pine tree, a pulley, and a lot of rope and chain. They got it out of course and I don’t think either of them minded the task. They were laughing and joking and slinging a lot of mud!

I’ve ridden many an hour tucked up next to his seat. All kinds of weather. Doing all kinds of jobs. I haven’t been up there in recent years. Maybe I should go with him next time he loads her up for the deer lease. My bones screech at the thought, but my heart says yes, load up.