Family History--Man's Best Friend

After Granddad Wood died, life was pretty rough for little six year old L.D. He had adored his dad, following him around and working with him on the farm. He was a heartbroken little boy. In his words, "I was sick with grief. Dad was gone and I didn't know what to do. I was lost without him, but was expected to carry on and be a man about it. At least I had Brownie and that helped." Brownie was an English bulldog given to Dad by Granddad the year before. The dog and Dad were inseperable, especially after Granddad died. The dog was never allowed in the house, however, because Grandmother Wood didn't like pets much. Brownie became Daddy's consolation and one spot of happiness in his grief. Daddy told of walking home from school in Carlisle (about 2 miles from their house). When he was about half a mile from home, Brownie would run to meet him, every day without fail. One day Brownie didn't meet him, though, and Daddy ran all the way home to find him. He looked everywhere and...no Brownie. He asked his mother if she had seen Brownie and she told Daddy that Brownie had probably run away or been taken by someone passing by. When Daddy began to cry, she told him to quit it and go do his chores. Daddy said, years later when he was 91, "I never knew what happened to my dog. I know Mother didn't like him, but I don't think she had anything to do with it. Who would take away a little boy's dog?" (Personally I (Elaine) think she got tired of having the dog around and gave him away, but who knows?)

There's another, happier chapter to this story that occurred in Dad's last years. After Mother died, my sons, Nathanael and Joshua, and I moved in with Dad for a while. One night in July 2003 Josh found a little reddish brown puppy in the street and brought him home. He wanted to keep him. I told Josh that Daddy probably wouldn't go for it, but we would ask him. We took the puppy, a pitbull mix whom Josh had dubbed "Sain" into the living room to Daddy. Josh told how he had found the poor little thing and wanted to keep him. Daddy took the puppy and began petting him, saying, "That is some pup! Good looking dog, isn't he?" As Dad continued to pet Sain, I asked if Josh could keep him. Daddy finally replied, "Well, we'll keep him until he's big enough to find him another home." I was stunned, frankly. Daddy had never had a dog in town. He always thought it cruel to keep big dogs confined to little backyards where they had no room to run and play. He had many dogs over the years on the farm, but never in town.

Officially Sain was Josh's dog. In reality he was Daddy's dog and Daddy called him...Brownie. That dog was spoiled rotten. Daddy cooked extra bacon in the mornings so Brownie could have some. He gave the dog bread with syrup on it (sop) for snacks and any table scraps went straight to Brownie. After about six months we had Brownie neutered and when we brought him home from the vet, Dad consoled him and petted him. He told Brownie, "That wasn't very nice of them to do was it? Take you off to a strange place and have you deballed. Not a nice thing at all! Come into the kitchen and I'll get you some sop."

Daddy had Alzheimer's and was in the early stages when we got Brownie. The dog became Dad's best friend, literally. They went for daily walks and Brownie grew to be a big dog, about 70 pounds. I worried about the walks some, but both of them enjoyed them too much to stop them. They would greet and visit neighbors along the way and have a good old time. One day they came home greatly agitated and Dad's hand was bleeding. On their walk they had encountered a bigger, mean dog. Brownie tried to protect Dad by getting between him and the strange dog, snapping and growling all the way. About the same time the strange dog lunged to attack Brownie, Daddy stepped in the middle to protect him. Dad's hand was bitten in the process of all the confusion. Daddy was so proud of Brownie for defending him and I think Brownie was proud of Dad for the same reason. Both of their eyes shone with pride.

As Daddy's Alzheimers worsened, Brownie remained his best friend. He sat by Dad's chair for hours and followed him wherever he went. He would even follow Dad to the restroom and sit respectfully outside the door waiting for him to come out. When Daddy had to move into a nursing home, I made sure to find one where Brownie could visit him. We took Brownie often and it would make both of them very happy. When Daddy passed away in November, 2006, we had a graveside service as Dad had requested. Brownie was there to say goodbye with us, faithful to the end. 

Next I'll write about the bigamy incident in the Wood family.  Stay tuned...

Family History--The Stories

I have decided that one of my projects this year will be to write down the family stories told to me by Daddy, Mother and others and share those on this blog. Family history was very important to my parents and to me too. I don't want our family history lost. I know eventually it probably will be through coming generations, but I want to share these stories with the current generation before I lose them myself. Today's post is the first installment. These stories will be kept simple and mostly told as they were told to me by Daddy and Mother.

George Washington and Maud Lee Wood had come from East Texas to West Texas once before, but found no good place to settle. (I believe they originally tried to settle in the Lamesa area.) In October 1913 they returned to West Texas by covered wagon from Dallas County. They had their two children with them, Harrel D. and Maud Jewel (called Jewel). Maud was six months pregnant with my dad. (Can you imagine traveling by covered wagon while six months pregnant?) The Woods bought land in Lubbock County fairly close to the community of Carlisle. They were fairly well off by that time's standards because they bought their land, had a full household and farming outfit with them, and money to begin their new life. There was a house on the property they bought and they lived in it for a while. Granddad Wood was a skilled carpenter as well as a farmer and built a much bigger, fine house for the growing family quickly. Years later, in my dad's older years, he would still speak proudly of the house his dad built for them with his own two hands and no help. He said there wasn't a single nail used.

Daddy was born three months after his family settled in Lubbock County on January 23, 1914. He was born at home, of course, as all babies were at that time and place. His parents couldn't agree on a name for him so for six months he was simply called "baby boy." In the Lubbock County records his birth was recorded as "Baby Boy Wood." At six months, his dad announced they would name him L.D. Wood. No true names, only initials. That initial only name caused Daddy many griefs over the years, but he was proud of the name because his father gave it to him. In his childhood and youth, he was called Dick by his family and friends. Somewhere along the way, he began to be called Dee and that name stuck. My mother called him Dee and told me that she never called him Dick because she didn't like that name. She thought it was hateful. (If Mother didn't like a name, she always called it a hateful name. I don't know why.)

Daddy was born when his dad was 36 years old. He adored his dad and spoke of him proudly and affectionately all his life. Apparently Granddad Wood was a large man, much bigger than any of his sons became. He was tall, about 6'4, and larger boned, but with the black hair and deep blue eyes that he gave to my dad. Granddad was full of life, loud, had a big sense of humor, and was constantly pulling jokes and pranks on all he met. (I'll try to remember and tell some of those stories too.) Grandmother Wood was apparently not a fan of this aspect of her husband. Daddy said she would get mad at Granddad and tell him to quit acting so foolish. Daddy inherited Granddad's sense of humor and loved to tease and joke, but Daddy's humor was quieter and dryer. The only way you could tell if Daddy was pulling your leg was by a certain twinkle in his eyes and a wry grin on his face.

Another son, George Ray, was born about three years after Daddy and was the last child born to George and Maud. The family prospered on their cotton farm and were healthy and happy until the Spanish Influenza came to the area in 1920. Nearly every family in the Carlisle area got deathly sick except Granddad for a while. Granddad Wood took care of his wife, children, and farm, but also went around to his neighbors to help them as well. He tended to their animals and did whatever other chores they needed to be done. The worst of the outbreak was lifting somewhat and people were beginning to recover when Granddad finally became sick himself. The flu hit him hard and fast and two days after going to bed, he died with pneumonia as a complication of the flu. (He had probably been sick before he admitted it. It must be remembered, also, that in 1920 there were no flu shots, antibiotics, or anything else much to treat the illness.) Granddad Wood was only 42 years old when he died. Daddy was only six years old when his dad died and I don't think he ever truly got over losing him at such a young age.

George Washington Wood was the first to die in the tight knit community of Carlisle. Mr. Carlisle (or Old Man Carlisle as Daddy called him), dedicated a plot of land for a cemetery and took care of the details for Granddad's burial there. Granddad was the first person buried in the cemetery. None of his family were able to attend his burial service because they were all still too sick with the flu.

If you ever get a chance to visit Carlisle (now a part of the City of Lubbock), you should stop by the cemetery on Highway 114. It isn't a large green place, but is fenced and now maintained by the state as it became a state historial landmark in the 1980's. On the state plaque at the entrance to the cemetery, the story of Granddad's death is told. His headstone can still be found in the far northeast corner of the cemetery. It is a tall monolith and quite ornate, although much of the design and words have eroded.

George Washington & Maud Lee Wood
Taken on their wedding day at the State Fair of Texas

More stories to come as I have time to sit down and write them out!   dewl

Life Wisdom or the Lack Thereof

A little while ago I was happily writing a post for my blog about the stages we go through in life and the wisdom we gain as we go. I was feeling all good about myself, thinking I had figured some things out in my 50 brief years. Maybe I was even feeling a little self-righteous about it because, of course, although I had been stupid in my youth and made plenty of boner moves and decisions, I was MUCH wiser now. (You can roll your eyes at this. It's okay.) I was about half-way through my wise words and...I lost it! The whole draft of the blog post! I searched, I tried to recover, I swore silently, I muttered loudly. I slammed my chair back in frustration. All for naught. My wise, pompous words were gone! Maybe that is for the good.

What I was going to talk about is the life stages we go through. You know, childhood when you want to be grown. Teenhood when you think you're brilliant and your parents are idiots. Young adulthood when you finally do all the things you dreamed of in childhood, make fantastic errors in judgement, have loads of fun, go to school, get married, and figure out life is HARD. Then comes the middle years (this is where I was going to get a little full of myself) where you finally figure out what life is all about and find peace and harmony. Well! I blew that one didn't I? Not only did I blow it, but I deleted it! Bah!

The truth, I realized as I made my ridiculous, fabulous mistake this morning, is we never figure it all out. We go through the phases of life, figure some things out, slowly, make many mistakes over and over ad nauseum, figure some more things out and...repeat many mistakes all the way to our graves apparently! The point is, no matter how old we get, how smart and wise we think we are, we're all still making mistakes and learning every day of our lives. The only wise thing I would very humbly share now is that we should learn from our mistakes, love people as much as possible along the way, and learn to save what is important and let go of the rest. (Especially in writing. If it isn't saved, it didn't happen, which is perhaps for the best sometimes.) I pray everyone has a good weekend, finds God's strength and love through difficulties, and joy and happiness in all the rest. dewl

P.S. I wrote this in a document, saved it every few minutes, saved it again, and then copied and pasted it into my blog. Hope it makes it because if it doesn't, Typepad and I are so done!