My America, My Homeland Part 1

 American History and Politics During My Lifetime

Growing up in rural small-town America, I knew nothing else except to be proud of my country and allegiant to her.  We had great pride in the flag and treated it with upmost dignity. I learned about the flag; what it symbolized and how lucky I was to be born in a free nation. I learned proper protocol about the flag; we pledged it often, at most events that I attended. It was an honor to be born as a citizen of the U.S.A. with the many rights and privileges that were given to me by the ultimate sacrifice of many on the battle field throughout the ages. I was taught to respect every aspect of their sacrifice. In school, I was taught all the American patriotic songs which further taught me how to love and appreciate my country. 

I thank God everyday that I married a man of faith who was raised by a strong independent woman. His mother was a military wife who moved all over the world, caring for her 3 sons. His dad as a pilot of the B-24 and flew 3 missions over Normandy on D-Day and survived. Just seeing the flag wave proudly and singing the National Anthem brought tears to her eyes. She was the most patriotic person I ever knew.

Growing Up In Small Town America Part 11

 RESTAURANTS

We didn’t eat out much because there were not many restaurants, and I certainly didn’t eat much fast food, at least not until I got my driver’s license. Fast food arrived at the end of the 60s with the A&W Root Beer stand, and the Dairy Queen. There were many good mom & pop hamburger stands where they made old fashioned hamburgers on the griddle. The Canton Café was a special place to eat on some Saturday nights.  It was on the outskirt of town and I especially loved the fried shrimp, egg drop soup and their salad dressing. Many times we would see other families; it was the place to go and dine. 

Sands Motel - Canton Cafe Vernon, TX Postcard (cardcow.com)

I also remember going to a b-b-q place that had sawdust floors and individual wooden seats attached to the wall.  There was another small restaurant that served American food (I can’t remember the name, but it was near the Canton) and it was the place that would serve the football team on Friday nights after the game. Other than those places, our choices to ‘eat out’ were limited. When I was a little older, we would sometimes go the the Country Club to eat.

 A special place downtown worthy of a mention was Johnny’s Pharmacy on a downtown corner front. I didn’t go in there often, but it had an old timey soda fountain, complete with the stools. They served ice cream, sodas, milkshakes, etc. Back in Mother’s day, they called the man behind the counter a soda jerk. When Johnny’s shut down their soda bar, Daddy purchased one of their milkshake dispensers.

 The other drug store, the one we used, Vernon Rexall Drug Store, I believe also had a soda fountain, but they must have shut it down before my memory of going to town on my own.  It was probably a sad time for the old timers to see these soda fountains disappear.

Growing Up In Small Town America Part 10

 MEALTIME

In the 50s and 60s, families would sit down together for meals, especially the dinner meal.  Mother would always send us to school with a hot breakfast, and for lunch, she would pack me a bologna sandwich, coke in a thermos and most likely a couple of Oreos. I carried this lunch in a metal lunchbox, featuring the comical characters of the Flinestones. Friday nights were special while Bryan played high school football. 

 Mother would make hamburgers before the game, and I often would invite a friend to come eat and go to the game with me. For lunch on Saturday, Daddy came home to eat with the family. I remember most often having a big pot of red beans and cornbread, and then he would be off to work for the rest of the day. Daddy worked 6 days a week as the owner/publisher of the Vernon Daily Record local newspaper.  Sundays were his day of rest, after a quick trip to the Record office to make sure the Sunday paper had been run and on the delivery routes. We always had a special meal together after church, as stated above. 

Paula Graduates From Kindergarten 1957

 May 1957

Mother's Day

 

MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER

I have always been okay with a day set aside to celebrate Mothers and Fathers. And I was even okay when we added Grandparent’s Day to the calendar. But then we just kept adding special days to the calendar to where we now celebrate…heck, I don’t know…even Tacos. It is ridiculous!

With that said, I celebrated my mother EVERYDAY, not just on Mother’s Day. I had one of the BEST mothers ever. She was with my heart and soul every day of my life. She placed my needs (not ‘wants’) above everything else. She loved me with agape love. I learned much from her because of her deep and discerning wisdom. She departed it to me in subtle ways, just by being there for me, more especially as an adult. I knew as a child that her role was to be respected first and foremost as my mother. When I went to college, I realized that she was wise about EVERYTHING. And at that point, she became my best friend. There is so much hype about Mother’s Day, especially on FB that is feels more like a competition. I’m aware that everyone feels their mother is special (well, maybe not everyone)…but there is a completely different side to Mother’s Day and how it may stir a different emotion in some women.

I read a piece yesterday on FaceBook that could be my sentiments exactly. It was written by Anne Lamott, a well-known author. She is a recovering alcoholic and I agree with her philosophy, maybe not all of it…but a good chunk of it. This piece was rather long so I will paraphrase what I took away from it.

This has become Ms. Lamott’s annual Mother’s Day Post….

 “Here is my annual Mother’s Day post, ONLY for those of you who dread the holiday, dread having strangers, cashiers & waiters exclaim cheerfully, mindlessly, “Happy Mother’s Day!”…

This is for those of you who may feel a kind of sheet metal loneliness on Sunday, who had an awful mother, or a mother who recently died, or wanted to but didn't get to have kids, or had kids who ended up breaking your hearts… I did not raise my son, Sam, to celebrate Mother’s Day. I didn’t want him to feel some obligation to buy me pricey lunches or flowers, some obligatory annual display of gratitude…. But Mother’s Day celebrates a huge lie about the value of women: that mothers are superior beings, that they have done more with their lives and chosen a more difficult path. Ha! Every woman’s path is difficult, and many mothers were as equipped to raise children as wire monkey mothers. I say that without judgment: It is true. An unhealthy mother’s love is withering.

The illusion is that mothers are automatically more fulfilled and complete…. I hate the way the holiday makes all non-mothers, and the daughters of dead mothers, and the mothers of dead or lost children, feel the deepest kind of grief and failure. The non-mothers must sit in their churches, temples, mosques, recovery rooms and pretend to feel good about the day while they are excluded from a holiday that benefits no one but Hallmark and See’s. There is no refuge — not at the horse races, movies, malls, museums…. Mothering perpetuates the dangerous idea that all parents are somehow superior to non-parents…. Don’t get me wrong: There were a million times I could have literally died of love for my son, and I’ve felt stoned on his rich, desperate love for me. I felt it yesterday when I was in despair. But I bristle at the whispered lie that you can know this level of love and self-sacrifice only if you are a parent. What a crock! We talk about “loving one’s child” as if a child were a mystical unicorn. A majority of American parents secretly feel that if you have not had and raised a child, your capacity for love is somehow diminished. They secretly believe that non-parents cannot possibly know what it is to love unconditionally, to be selfless, to put yourself at risk for the gravest loss…. But my main gripe about Mother’s Day is that it feels incomplete and imprecise. The main thing that ever helped mothers was other people mothering them, including aunties and brothers; a chain of mothering that keeps the whole shebang afloat….”

 And yes, I've been told by family, that there is no way I could understand because I don't have children. But they have no idea how much I love family and how many hours I have spent understanding my heritage and appreciating EVERY mother and father who has gone before me. 

Keeping all of that in mind, the way I spent honoring my mother when she was alive was to GO VISIT WITH HER. I didn’t lavish her with flowers; I didn’t take her to a fancy restaurant that required reservations. I made my own reservation to just spend time with her, and not just on Mother's Day. I gave the gift of time, and it was during a time of her life when she needed me the most!  Just being with her on that special day was what meant the most to both of us.

Growing Up In Small Town America Part 9

 SANTA ROSA ROUNDUP

Because of E. Paul Waggoner's love of the western ranch life and his desire to preserve the history and color of the early West, he built the Santa Rosa Roundup on 160 acres, just south of Vernon in 1946, holding the first roundup rodeo that year. The historic facility still uses the same wooden chutes to release bulls and bucking broncs. Kicking off the historic rodeo is the massive mile long downtown parade consisting of floats, bands, riding clubs, local celebrities and misc. entries. This was huge in my life.  School was turned out early for the parade and people from all over that part of the country would participate in this grand parade. My pappy rode his quarter horse, Ginger, in the Santa Rosa parade, and later when Bryan was old enough, he would ride alongside Pappy on a horse called Paint.        

                                         

Bryan’s square-dancing group also participated in the parade, performing in front of the courthouse.

Bryan is just beyond the girl in the blue dress coming around the circle.

Bryan's back is to the camera, holding hands with the girl in the navy dress.

The Santa Rosa Roundup was a huge Rodeo, drawing from some of the nation’s best as participants and performers. Daddy sometimes had a hand in getting the entertainment lined up. I have a picture of Daddy with Festus, and when I went off to college, I brought home friends one year to see Tanya Tucker perform. Daddy always purchased a box, front and center. Mimi and Pappy would come, and we would all go to the rodeo together. Daddy was in charge of the rodeo programs, printing them from his print shop that was connected to the Newspaper office. Each night after the rodeo ended, Daddy would bring home bags of change from the sales of the program. It was a thrill to help him separate all the coins, so that he could account for the profits from the sales of the program.

                              

Carolita Quillin with her parents, Ava and J.C.Jones                    Nancy and Paula Quillin 

                            Bryan selling the programs.

As with any large inheritance, it’s that third generation that cannot hold it together. In the late 1990s, the adult Waggoner kids couldn’t agree on what to do with the estate. In January 2004, a story in Texas Monthly covered "The Showdown at the Waggoner Ranch." The story concerns the saga of Texas’s second largest ranch and its shambles of an inheritance left by W.T Waggoner to his descendants. It’s a history of a sliver of Texas’s elite, how they made their money and how they, often scandalously, spent their time. The Waggoner Ranch was eventually sold to Stan Kroenke from Montana, husband of Ann Walton, heir to Walmart. Thank goodness they have kept the Ranch as a working ranch. It was during this time period that Bryan’s daughter married a working Waggoner Ranch cowboy. 

Growing Up In Small Town America Part 8

 WAGGONER RANCH

The Waggoner Ranch - Western Horseman

Growing up in the shadow of the Waggoner Ranch had a huge impact. The Ranch is just south of Vernon, established in 1852 by Dan Waggoner and his son, W.T. They began with 230 longhorn cattle and some horses. In 1873, W.T. conducted a cattle drive up the Western Trail to Kansas and returned with $55,000 seed money to begin an empire. From 1889 to 1903, they acquired land in Wichita, Wilbarger, Foard, Knox, Baylor and Archer Counties, spanning more than a million acres covering 798 sq miles. They had an impact on all of that area. The W.T. Waggoner Estate was formed and they struck oil in 1902. It is the largest ranch under one fence in the U.S., the size of a small nation, second largest ranch after the King Ranch. The Waggoner family was known worldwide and were a rich and famous family. W.T.’s daughter Electra built a mansion called Zacaweista.

When I was 5 years old, my lollypop teacher (that was a kindergarten before it was mandated) was Mozelle McCarty. Her husband Hershel was the assistant purchasing agent for the Ranch. Mother and Daddy were friends with them, and I remember taking Sunday drives on the expansive ranch. Dean Raines, the dad of my high school boyfriend, worked as the head carpenter at Zacaweista.

W. T. Waggoner raised Quarter Horses and his son, E Paul Waggoner, purchased a brown quarter horse stallion Poco Bueno that became famous in his own rite as the grand champion stallion in the 1940s at 5 different shows. When he died, he was buried in a standing position in a grave across from the ranch entrance. E. Paul was recognized as outstanding breeder of quarter horses in America.