One Million Stories on One Thread

[FarWestTexas]

First Bank Robbery Post!

The pictures are from Gibraltar Savings & Loan, Houston, 1971-1972, but I had this conversation with my mom tonight over family chat (as heard around the campfire) and did get her final permission before hitting submit.

Me: Do you remember your manager's name?

Mom: Harold Barker.  He's probably dead by now.  He was probably 15 or 20 years older than me.

Me: Did the guy in the hat ever get caught?
Me: && were you wearing white?  What color was the jumpsuit?

Mom: I was wearing yellow, and his jumpsuit was a khaki color.

Me: I wanted it to be baby blue.

Mom: My scarf was pale blue and yellow.
Mom: He was never caught as far as I know.  We had to go to a line-up, but he wasn't in it.  

Mom: Harold was probably wearing brown polyester pants, pale blue shirt and brown and blue tie.  Funny I remember those things, but that was a very traumatizing day.  The FBI kept the good pictures.

Mom: I got interviewed by some TV station, and questioned extensively by the FBI.

Me: Were any of them in color?

Mom: I don't think so.  That was about a 1971 or 72.

Me: Was it an actual film system with a trigger?
Me: And who hit the trigger/alarm?

Mom: Me, right before he told me not to trigger the alarm....LOL.  Too late.  Harold was sitting at his desk, and didn't come up to the front until later.  I kept trying to hide behind Harold, and keep out of line of the gun.  He came to my "station", pulled his gun, and asked for all the money.  Our alarm button was rigged with a one dollar bill under the other ones, so when I pulled them out, I pulled the trigger bill out at the same time.

Me: Were you the only two bank employees in the building at the time?

Mom: I had just hidden over 40K in the back room....I only had around three hundred in my drawer, so I put a few 20s on top of four packs of ones I had in my drawer.  He thought they were all big bills.....fooled him!!

Mom: Yes....just Harold and me.

Me: It wasn't your money.  Why not give tan coverall man what he wanted then run off with Harold with the 40k in the back?
Me: Also, how hard/easy was it to pull the trigger bill?

Mom: Funny man!!

Me: Could someone accidentally do it?

Mom: Easy to pull.
Mom: Yes....I almost did the first day I worked there.  Harold forgot to tell me about it.

Me: Did the drawer pull out or was it fixed?

Mom: No....drawer stayed put.  He never even looked in my drawer....there was still money in it.
Mom: Or did you mean the alarm trigger.  It was just a flat clip that a bill fit under...sort of like a money clip, but was affixed to the bottom of the money drawer.

Me: What do you mean, "Hidden 40k"?

Mom: We were told to hide anything over 2K, and not keep it in our drawer.  There was a supply closet, I would put it under some boxes of stuff in the closet until closing time when we prepared the deposit for the night and the nightly report.

Mom: We used to get a lot of cash during the day.  Those people in Town and Country were rich.

Me: Did you not have a time-lock vault?
Me: Drop stuff in all day, but you can only access it on a pre-set schedule, preferably when you have armed security around?

Mom: No, we had no vault.....only the home office.
Mom: We didn't have security cameras, until about a month before this robbery.

Me: Did you see that Traces of Texas is starting a project to collect one million Texas stories in the next decade or so?
Me: You want to go in as bank robbery story #1?

...her answer at this point didn't much matter, but I was racing the clock, just in case she said no...

Mom: LOL....would that qualify?

Me: Srsly?
Me: Let's hide and watch!
 

[rjs]

If you have experienced it you will never forget it. Truly hair raising!!

[CPunkin]

Here in Anderson county I have spotted a mountain lion a couple of times, but a friend of ours was squirrel hunting on our place. Things were going okay until he looked up. When he looked up he said he saw a black panther and he started walking back slowly so it wouldn't start chasing him. Scared him pretty bad though.

[CPunkin]

What an incredible story! I would imagine your mom was pretty scared. 

[Vettexan]

[Vettexan]

One of my favorite photos from Texas history.  Hundreds of cars choked a gravel road leading to the Daisy Bradford #3 oil well, being drilled outside of Kilgore, Texas.  Against all odds and in contrast to all the naysayers of the day who said there was no oil to be found in East Texas, 71 year old wildcatter Columbus 'Dad' Joiner, proved them all wrong in early October of 1930.  In his final attempt to convince the world, he brought in this well on the 3rd of October, 1930 and changed the course of history in Texas, and in some ways, the history of the world.  Joiner's quest is closely linked to another great story and tragedy that surprisingly few are aware of.  The New London School Explosion was an ironic end cap to the story of oil and its riches.  This photo, courtesy of the Kilgore Historical society, is a part of a feature length documentary I wrote and produced a while back, that tells both of these stories.  The documentary is called 'Shadow Across The Path.'  It's narrated by 10 time-Emmy recipient and CBS features reporter Martha Teichner.  An extended 5-minute trailer here provides the basics of the story:  

 

[Cowpoke]

The Undertaker and I were sitting in the local 'Joint' (different undertaker than the other story and at least thirty years later but the friendship is the same) when he said "I need to air out the hearse (the motor) let's go over to the next town (about thirty miles) and have a drink". Ended up there were four of us going. The hearse was a one front seat, lot of space in the rear, type. Being a bright and sunny afternoon two of us crawled in the back. Well, one drink lead to another and before you knew it it was closing time. Somehow .there were only three for the return trip. I crawled in the back. I told him to just drop me off at my friends house because I wasn't in any shape to drive. Now the humor begins, for me anyway, and I will relate this as told to me by her. We pulled up to the front of my buddies house about one in the morning. Lights are on. Inside the house his wife say's Lee!!, there is a hearse stopped in front of the house! Lee!!!!! , the back door is opening!!! Lee!!!!, someone is getting out of the back!! Probably funnier when she tells it but it still brings a tear to my eye. Later I told the undertaker he has to pipe some music back there when he hauls me off. Without music every road is a long ol road.

[Capn Ron]

Every year we went out to the deer lease during the off season to fill the feeders and bait the area with corn. This was done in hopes of luring the deer to the area so that when the season opened we would be able to bag that big buck. Sometimes I would ride in the back of the truck with an open a bag of corn and use a make shift scoop to throw corn out behind the truck as my father drove around the lease. This particular lease was located out in the red dirt region of West Texas. This part of the country was brushy and filled with jack rabbits, cactus and rattle snakes. 

On this day we were driving through the lease with bags of feed, when dad suddenly hit the brakes. He had spotted a Rattlesnake which had decided to warm itself in the morning sun. The snake was coiled up on one of the many rocks which jutted up from the dry ground. Dad slammed the truck into park and we both jumped out into the air. I was unaware of what he was planning as I watched him grab the broom out of the truck and run towards the snake. "Stay Back!", He shouted as he rammed the bristled end of the broom down on to the head of the snake. I soon felt a sense of excitement welling up inside my chest as I watched six feet of snake writhing violently under the pressure of the broom. "Go get the rifle boy!", Dad shouted as he fought to keep the snake pinned. I ran back to the truck and found the .22 rifle on the window rack, shoved the full magazine in and clicked the safety switch off. "Hurry up boy!", Dad shouted. I ran the loaded rifle back to dad and as I passed it to him he said, "Here Boy, Hold this Broom!" I grabbed the broom without hesitation and pushed down as hard as I could to keep the snake's fanged end in place as the tail rattled and its long body jerked to and fro.

"When I say move, you move!", dad commanded. "Move!!"

I lifted the broom and ran backwards away from the angry snake! I heard a POP!! My father was always a dead shot and he had in fact shot that angry writhing serpent right through the head. I brought a machete from the truck and we cut the head off and that was that... or so it seemed...

Dad taught me to never kill any animal unless we plan to eat what we killed. Of course, taking the skin and rattler from this snake as a souvenir was an added bonus. The headless body of the snake continued to writhe as he hung the snake from a low tree branch for skinning. He had tied the snake by the noise making end and started the incision just under the rattler working the knife downward, when suddenly, the still living nerves of the six foot snake caused the body to arc upwards as if it were attempting to strike my dad in the neck! But there was no head or fangs attached as it had been severed with the machete and where there once was a fang toothed head, there was now only a bloody nub. The sudden striking movement of the headless snake startled dad and caused him to lurch backward.

That is when he lost his footing and unfortunately found himself sitting on a cactus plant. That was the first and last time I ever saw a man using a hunting knife to shave cactus needles from his back side.

I'd say that was a well earned rattle snake hide!

[Dave]

The following are 2 stories of my great great great grandparents.  The first story is a direct copy from the obituary of JK Miller as reported in the local paper and the second is a story that has been told over the years of JK Miller’s wife, Orrean, sometimes spelled as Arrean Miller.  The two stories are 180 degrees from each other but illustrates the life spent in the development of Texas.  The first part of JK's obituary is typical information but the last part, although some may find offensive, is a depiction of life at those time.

 

John Kinsey Miller Dead

 

The death of few pioneers has been received with more sincere regret than that of J. K. Miller.  His death occurred the morning of Jan. 18 at 7 o'clock at the home of his son, Dr. William Miller at Basin Springs near Sadler, after a brief illness from pneumonia.  Mr. Miller, who was remarkably hearty and active for his eighty years of life, had been apparently as well as usual up to a few days ago, for his relatives residing here were only noticed of his serious illness early this morning and his son, J. N. Miller, reached him too late to see him in life.  The remains were brought to Denison January 19.  Services were held at the Layne school house west of the city, Monday afternoon at 3 o'clock and internment will be in the Coffman Cemetery near there.

 

John Kinsey Miller was born in Macon County, N.C. December 10, 1826. He came to Texas in 1852 and was one of the first settlers in Denison.  The trip to Texas was made in a wagon, for which two months were necessary.  He settled five miles west of Sherman where he lived till '60 when he bought property which later formed two additions to Denison.  His first home, built more than forty years ago, still stands at No. 1401 West Walker St. and slightly modernized and improved is remarkable for it stability and comfort.  Sherman was only a village of three general merchandise stores when Mr. Miller first came to this section and a large pecan tree stood where the present Grayson County court house is located.  During the Civil War Mr. Miller served as a frontier guardsman and scout under Colonel Bolden and Colonel Diamond.  He endured all the hardships of those perilous times and up to the time of his death clearly told interestingly of indian attacks and hardships of the settlers in obtaining the necessities of life. He watched Denison grow from its early infancy.  He traded fifty ponies for part of the land that now forms some of the most valuable of Denison property and grew cotton where Denison Hotel and other down town business houses stand.

 

Mr. Miller was married December 25, 1846 to Miss Orrean Tabor who died in 1903, after fifty seven years of happy married life.  Of this union fourteen children were born, three having died several years ago.  Surviving are eight sons and three daughters, together with more than a hundred grand-children, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren.  Daughter, Mrs. G. T. Rowland, was the first born in Denison  The surviving children are:  Mrs. M. A. Teague, Barstow, Texas; J. R. Miller, Lubbock, Texas;   B. J. Miller, Marlin, Texas; J. F. Miller, Olustee, Okla., G. Miller, Atoka, Okla.; J. N. Miller, Mrs G. T. Rowland and Mrs. F. Jennings, all of Denison and Dr. Wm. Miller of Basin Springs, Texas.

 

Mr Miller was for many years a consistent member of the Baptist Church and at the time of his death was a deacon in the Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church, west of the city.  He was a charter member of the Odd Fellows' lodge at Denison, having been a member of that order for fifty years, and at the time of his death was a member of the Sadler lodge --- Denison Harold.

 

Mr Miller was well known in West Grayson by older citizens in the earlier days, but Denison has claimed him as her own for near a half century, and his city paper has shown in the above, how he lived, how he died, and how he was admired and loved by those to who he had contributed so much in building and governing a city.  But few of his comrades in the area are now living; but the history of the frontier regiment commanded by Col James Borland in his operations against the hostile Indians, on our northwestern frontier, during the war. name appears in connection with many deeds of valor, endurance and privation.

 

Col. Bourland was under orders at the time, from General Henry E. McCulloch with headquarters at Bonham, Texas; and the defense of the whole frontier line devolved upon his regiment.

 

Kinsey Miller was the chief scout of Lieut. Col. J. R. Diamond.  He was young, strong, active; and as to his sound judgement and cool calculating courage, the writer has often heard Col. Diamond say of him: "Kinsey Miller was the bravest man I ever knew.  He always road the best and swiftest horse in the regiment.  He usually kept two or more horses and always held himself and one or more of them ready and waiting for orders, knowing, as he said, that either one of them could out run any Indian pony on the range.  He performed most of his daring operations at night -- just before day.  And it was always said by officers and men, when Kinsey Miller set cap close down over his eyes, and rode toward the sunset, now look out boys, Kinsey Miller will pilot the red skins into camp by early sunrise."

 

The remark referred to his habit of attacking a body of Indians (no matter how many) and then playing off and away from pursuers, on his trusty horse. He would watch them as they would string out tandem, and as the leading brave would take his place far in advance, Miller would tone down his mount, until the foe would reach a spot within range of his rifle.  One shot was enough for that Indian.  He would continue this mode of dismounting his pursuers, until on some occasions, the report of his gun or pistol was heard in camp, and most of the Indian scouts were dead behind him in the grass.

 

Mr Miller was the grand-father of Mrs. J. H. Clark of Whitesboro, who with other relatives mourns the death of this noble man and patriot

 

 

Orrrean Miller as been handed down over the years

 

One day while at a close stream Orrean Miller was washing cloths when she happened upon a young Indian man with a broken leg.  After some convincing Orrean was able to use pieces of her dress to set and bind the Indians leg.  She knew he needed further help and tried to make him understand she would be back with a buckboard and her husband to take him back to the ranch.  When Orrean and JK returned they found the Indian had left and were unable to find him.

Several days later one morning Orrean found a dead deer hanging near the ranch with a piece of her dress she had used to bind the Indians broken leg.  Days later she found a dead turkey hanging near the house, again with a piece of her dress used to bind the leg.  From time to time they would discover more game left by the Indian she had helped.

Their story continues to mention that when groups of Indians were spotted near the ranch the Indians would swing wide of the Miller ranch and never bothered the Miller’s.

One day when returning from town Orrean saw a group of Indians approaching her so she whipped the horses into high gear and headed to the ranch.  When the following Indians saw her turn into the ranch they ceased the pursuit and left her in peace.

[Traces]

Holy cow ... Fantastic!  I'm just glad your mom is a) still around and b) remembers the details. Although I'm guessing that they were probably seared into her mind.  Wasn't she afraid?  I'd have been petrified.  Of course, I'm a big wussy.

[Traces]

Ha ha.  I can imagine her concern over seeing that back door opening!

 

[Traces]

5 hours ago, Dave said:

Orrrean Miller as been handed down over the years

 

 

One day while at a close stream Orrean Miller was washing cloths when she happened upon a young Indian man with a broken leg.  After some convincing Orrean was able to use pieces of her dress to set and bind the Indians leg.  She knew he needed further help and tried to make him understand she would be back with a buckboard and her husband to take him back to the ranch.  When Orrean and JK returned they found the Indian had left and were unable to find him.

Several days later one morning Orrean found a dead deer hanging near the ranch with a piece of her dress she had used to bind the Indians broken leg.  Days later she found a dead turkey hanging near the house, again with a piece of her dress used to bind the leg.  From time to time they would discover more game left by the Indian she had helped.

Their story continues to mention that when groups of Indians were spotted near the ranch the Indians would swing wide of the Miller ranch and never bothered the Miller’s.

One day when returning from town Orrean saw a group of Indians approaching her so she whipped the horses into high gear and headed to the ranch.  When the following Indians saw her turn into the ranch they ceased the pursuit and left her in peace.

That's quite a story. Any idea where this took place?

[Dave]

I would have to assume around Denison.  I have never researched where the fort was located that JK was stationed at.  As far as Orrean Miller I believe that took place around Denison, TX.  A few years back my nephew found the house that JK built and the current owner gave him a tour of the house.  Nephew was pretty impressed.  I may be wrong but I believe the house is on the historic list but privately owned.

[Dave]

My grandparents lived most of their lives in Lubbock, TX except for a few years in Santa Fe, NM.  He was an auto mechanic for GM specializing in transmissions and only moved to Santa Fe in the 30's to find work.

For years as I grew up I spent many summers staying with both grandparents in Lubbock.  My grandfather had hanging on the wall in the den a bobcat hide that was a little worn and old looking with both ears almost gone.  He stated the hide layed on the floor for a while where a pet dog chewed the ears off.  One day I asked him what did he shoot it with?  He just looked at me with a smile and said he killed the bobcat with a rock and a shovel.  I expressed my disbelief and he challenged me to find a bullet hole or any other puncture.  I found none.  He went on to explain how he managed such a feat.  

One day at work he finished up a repair on a customers car and he and another mechanic took the car for a drive to make sure the problem was fixed.  As they drove along the cap they spotted a bobcat dart across the road in front of them.  He said he had no idea why he pulled over but pulled the car to the side where both men jumped out and grabbed a rock.  My grandfather stayed on top of the cap while the other mechanic dropped over the edge.  As my grandfather jumped over a ravine he saw the bobcat crouched in the ravine.  When my grandfather landed on the other side he threw the rock hitting the bobcat on the head.  Believing the bobcat was dead they threw the cat into the trunk and drove back to the dealership.  When the trunk was opened there stood the bobcat but in a daze from the hit with the rock.  My grandfather grabbed a nearby shovel and hit the cat across the head completing what he had thought the rock had done.  

Below is picture of my grandfather with the bobcat.  Notice mechanics had to wear ties.

[Dave]

Photo of JK and Orrean Miller

Edited January 30, 2023 by Dave

[Gary]

A couple of friends and I worked as rodmen one summer with some federal government surveyors on the Laguna Atascosa Wildlife Refuge in deep south Texas. Seems there was a dispute over the Refuge boundaries. Our bosses issued us some aluminum leg guards as protection against the myriad rattlesnakes we saw every day, but luckily nobody was ever bitten. The lead surveyor was some kind of champion body builder in his home state of New Mexico, and he was right proud of in his physique and reflexes.

 

One day the surveyor decided to show off for us, using an innocent rattler as his prop. He grabbed a short machete and started dancing around the reptile, all the while bragging about how he was going to out quick it. Well, he did. With a couple of chops, he subdued the snake. Then he proudly picked it up and draped it over the spare tire on the back of our jeep for viewing. Just as he leaned in to get a good look, the trophy released its foul-smelling musk, hitting the surveyor square in the face. He wildly hacked on his prey some more to be sure it was deceased, but we all figured the snake got the last laugh.

[CGraf]

Awesome story Dave!

[Gary]

From 1959 to 1963, I attended Texas College of Arts and Industries, now known as Texas A&M Kingsville.. Most weekends in my first two years, I went back to my hometown of San Benito which is about 100 miles due south. Since I didn’t have a car, I had to bum rides with friends who did have cars. After one particular Spring weekend visit home in either ‘60 or ‘61, a friend I'll call Joe gave me a ride back to Kingsville late on Sunday afternoon. Joe was sippin’ on a cold one when he picked me up. The empty cans on the floor suggested that he had been sippin' for a while, and there was a fresh six pack on the seat between us. I’m a confirmed teetotaler, so the refreshments weren't for me.

 

I was a little nervous about my driver on this trip, but had to get back to school and, at that point, I had no other options. I offered to drive, but Joe insisted he was OK. However, with each beer, Joe became more and more relaxed, if you know what I mean. As we were crossing the famed King Ranch, Joe used the whole road. In other words, we spent way too much time driving north in the south bound lane. It was a white knuckle trip for me until he saw the snake..

 

Some Spring days would find that road literally crawling with rattlesnakes coming out of winter hibernation. On this trip, “Joe” spotted a six or seven foot rattler in the side of the road. He did a tire smokin’, locked wheel stop, and declared he was going to cut the rattles off that beauty. We both got out of the car and approached the snake. Joe was in front and I was right in back of him, uh, to make sure no other snake sneaked up on us from behind, you see. Just as Joe reached down for that trophy, it twitched and we both jumped back. Thing was, it just startled me some, but it instantly made ol' Joe stone cold sober. I never saw anything like that before or since. Joe decided he didn’t need those rattles after all, so we got back in the car and drove in the proper lane for the rest of the trip.

[CGraf]

Great story!

[CGraf]

Excellent story!  I would of had to change my trousers!

[Traces]

That's quite a story!

[Stars at Night]

Ha ha. I would have laughed, too, but I also would have been mad at the surveyor. There was no reason to kill that snake. 

[Stars at Night]

I've heard the expression "he can whip his weight in bobcats" before but I never knew anybody who actually did it.  

[Stars at Night]

1 hour ago, Gary said:

From 1959 to 1963, I attended Texas College of Arts and Industries, now known as Texas A&M Kingsville.. Most weekends in my first two years, I went back to my hometown of San Benito which is about 100 miles due south. Since I didn’t have a car, I had to bum rides with friends who did have cars. After one particular Spring weekend visit home in either ‘60 or ‘61, a friend I'll call Joe gave me a ride back to Kingsville late on Sunday afternoon. Joe was sippin’ on a cold one when he picked me up. The empty cans on the floor suggested that he had been sippin' for a while, and there was a fresh six pack on the seat between us. I’m a confirmed teetotaler, so the refreshments weren't for me.

 

I was a little nervous about my driver on this trip, but had to get back to school and, at that point, I had no other options. I offered to drive, but Joe insisted he was OK. However, with each beer, Joe became more and more relaxed, if you know what I mean. As we were crossing the famed King Ranch, Joe used the whole road. In other words, we spent way too much time driving north in the south bound lane. It was a white knuckle trip for me until he saw the snake..

 

Some Spring days would find that road literally crawling with rattlesnakes coming out of winter hibernation. On this trip, “Joe” spotted a six or seven foot rattler in the side of the road. He did a tire smokin’, locked wheel stop, and declared he was going to cut the rattles off that beauty. We both got out of the car and approached the snake. Joe was in front and I was right in back of him, uh, to make sure no other snake sneaked up on us from behind, you see. Just as Joe reached down for that trophy, it twitched and we both jumped back. Thing was, it just startled me some, but it instantly made ol' Joe stone cold sober. I never saw anything like that before or since. Joe decided he didn’t need those rattles after all, so we got back in the car and drove in the proper lane for the rest of the trip.

Great story!  Glad you all made it safely.

[Cowpoke]

A little background on the man. Born and raised in Texas, after his tenure in the Korean Conflict and still a young man, Jayboy moved to Oklahoma City where he became a influential part in the development of the city. Attending his funeral, I have only seen on tv as many Limousines as were in line behind the hearse. A well respected, self made man. Now the story. Jayboy and his family always traveled 'home' on memorial day weekend to visit with family, living and deceased. Fishing in one of the ranches stock tanks was also part of the encounter. Upon arriving to his destination, Jayboy told his son to get the bucket out of the trunk. Well, the bucket consisted of a whole bunch of grasshoppers, which everybody knows is very good bait for catching catfish.. When asked where he got all that 'bait' he said, 'we seined them'. Driving down he had noticed a lot of grasshoppers hitting the windshield. Stopping the vehicle on the side of the road, he and his young son retrieved a minnow seine out of the trunk and commenced to drag it in the barditch, while cars zoomed by. Pretty ingenious I think. I wonder what the passengers in the cars passing thought was going on? Lunatics? Just goes to show, Texas Boys will get the job done no matter what it takes and most never loose their heritage. Happy Trails

Edited January 30, 2023 by Cowpoke

[Monica W]

My mom was born in Merkel and grew up in Lamesa. When she was four years old, she was riding with her family in their car. She was standing up on the back seat and accidentally pushed down the handle that opened the door. She fell out and landed on her head. They raced her to the hospital. The doctor told her parents that she was dead. Her memory of this is that she was on the ceiling, looking down at herself and the people in the room. She remembers hearing the doctor tell her parents that she was dead. Obviously, she was not because she is still here with us.

The second time that she cheated death was six years later. My grandmother received a phone call informing her that her daughter had been in a vehicle that was hit by a train and had died. My grandmother first called the school to make sure that my mother was there and she was. They found out later that it was a cousin who had been in the car.

[DrRick]

Papa and the Oak Tree

My grandfather, who we called Papa, lived next to us and he was my idol.  He was born in 1881, when there were still Indians giving us problems up north and transportation was by horses.  He was a true pioneer type of person.  He was totally self-sufficient, skilled in making tools and equipment necessary to survive on his own.  He was at once tough as leather but capable of showing his love for his grandkids.  He was my idol and I spent much of the day following him around and learning about life.

He was nearing 80 and enjoyed sitting on the front porch watching nature and life go by.  We lived right on Highway 281 in South TX and in the 50s it was a lazy 2 lane paved road with an occasional car or farmer’s truck passing by.  Of course, he waved at those he knew and some that he didn’t know.  There was a giant oak tree right in front of the house.  It was always covered in squirrels, birds and occasional possums and racoons.  He spent endless hours just watching that tree that was probably a couple hundred years old.

In the early 60s the traffic was increasing and there was a plan to turn 281 into a divided highway with 4 lanes.  Eventually construction began and the Highway Department decided that the old oak tree was too close to the pavement and it had to go.  One morning Papa was sitting on the porch as usual when the bulldozers showed up to uproot the old tree.  Once Papa figured out what was going to happen, he went in and grabbed his old single shot 12 gauge shotgun, walked out into the highway right of way and leveled the shotgun at the startled dozer driver.  He let them know in no uncertain terms that they were NOT knocking down his tree.  The driver bailed out of the dozer fearing that the crazy old man just might shoot him.  Before long a foreman showed up and explained that the tree was a hazard to oncoming traffic and had to go.  Well, Papa was not intimidated by this young whipper snapper and stood his ground.  By this time, the local sheriff had been notified and he arrived to calm the situation.  Bear in mind, at that time everyone knew everyone else in the county and the sheriff was quite aware that this crazy old coot just might shoot him.  All the while, Papa just stood there defiantly with his old shotgun, daring anyone to get back in that dozer.  To calm down nerves the sheriff called the local supervisor for the highway department, who was actually a relative of Papa’s.  The supervisor knew that Papa would not yield any ground and bad things might happen, so pulled out his measurement tools, made a lot of calculations and decided that the tree would not have to be removed if they could put a metal barrier around it.  I’m pretty sure he fudged those measurements quite a bit. The dozers left and the tree remained.  I guess Papa was the original tree hugger and he continued to sit on his porch looking at the old oak tree that had become like a friend to him.  He passed away a few years after that, but the tree remained.

That old oak tree survived countless crashes by drunks and sleepy drivers over the years, practically denuding all the bark around it.  Finally, like Papa, the old oak gave in to father time and it died.  Once that happened crews came in and the dozers once again came in to remove the old tree.  The entire family showed up to sadly watch Papa’s Tree being turned into small pieces.  Oh, how I wish I had saved some of that tree and had a cabinet shop turn the wood into something befitting a memorial to Papa.

I became the heir to Papa’s old shotgun.  He bought it out of a Sears and Roebuck catalogue for $8.  I consider it one of my prime possessions.

Papa's Oak Tree.docx

[Stars at Night]

Glad to hear that your mom lived through both events, although the second one ended badly for your second cousin.

I've read other accounts from people who say the same thing about near-death experiences, that they saw themselves as from a vantage point as if they were floating above the room.  That's pretty odd but it seems to be what many of them say. 

[Rosemary]

Years ago, when I turned 21, my daddy gave me fifty dollars and I went out and bought a hound dog and a pair of cowboy boots. 
The dog ran off, but I still have the boots.

[Stars at Night]

I can imagine how much that shotgun means to you. I have a few old things handed down and I always tell me wife that if there's a fire she's on her own ... I'm saving my grandfather's .22, some photos, and a few things that my father gave to me.

Isn't it funny how there are these possessions that come to mean so much to us and, yet, if other people inherit them they will have literally no meaning and might end up in a garage sale or given away to Goodwill?

[Stars at Night]

A short story, indeed!

[Stars at Night]

That was hilarious, Cowpoke. After a night of drinking I have been sometimes mistaken for a corpse so I can relate ha ha!

[Zack Miller]

July 4, 1984.  It was a sizzling hot day when I traveled to the hospital in suburban Ft. Worth to see a patient.  As I was exiting in the doctors parking lot I bumped into another physician.  While we were talking a police car arrived.  Police cars are not unusual around hospitals, so I was paying little attention to the officer as he walked up to a parked car and looked inside.  

 

“Are you a doctor?” he asked.  When I nodded, he added, “I think I need your help.”

 

I walked over and looked in the passenger window and saw someone sitting there with his head back.  I was thinking it was pretty hot to be sitting in a parked car with the windows rolled up.  I opened the door to see one of my colleagues unresponsive.  He was ash grey, and as I grabbed his wrist to check for a pulse (which was absent), I saw two bullet holes in his shirt.  The ER entrance was only ten yards away, so I ran in to get help. We carried him into the ER to attempt resuscitation.  Shortly afterwards a call came over the police receiver that an ambulance was bringing in another gunshot victim.  Less than a minute later, the ambulance arrived with a young woman.  Efforts to resuscitate both victims were unsuccessful.  I was thinking this is a lot of shooting even in Texas. 

 

It turned out they were having an affair and he both been shot by her husband.  There were two separate trials for the murders.  I had to testify at both trials. The husband was tried first for murdering his wife, for which he was sentenced to two years.  The DA was not happy with the outcome.  After I finished testifying at the second trial, I was walking down the street when the defense attorney ran after me and called me back to the witness stand for further questioning. 

 

“When you found Dr. D—— in his car you said he was already dead.  How do you know he was dead?”

 

Needless to say, I was a bit stunned by the question.  After a slight pause, all I could say was, “Well, he wasn’t breathing.  He didn’t respond when I shook him and yelled at him.  I felt for a pulse, and he didn’t have one.  All the blood drained from his head leaving him with an ash grey complexion.  Based on my experience of assessing dead people, I concluded he was dead.  If he hadn’t been right outside the emergency room, we wouldn’t have considered trying to resuscitate him.”

[Zack Miller]

That is sooooo great. 

[Cowpoke]

We had gathered a few head of calves that needed working. Branding, vaccination, the necessities. In attendance was my two brothers, my future wife, her son and myself. Her son, about 17, hadn't been involved in any of this before and everything was new to him. We used a calf cradle, my girlfriend vaccinated, I branded, one brother ear marked and castrated when a bull came up, her son and my other brother pushed calves into the chute and cradle. We had worked quite a few head of calves when her son asked, "is that shot for pain?" We all found the question pretty humorous, but he was serious as all git out. I told him, No, but this is just like circumcision. In a few days they will be over it, and not remember a thing."