The Life of Me | Page 7

was through with the book, Henry hesitated to make a
400 mile round trip in a covered wagon just to return a borrowed book.
So he didn't return it right away. He put it away for safekeeping. It was
forgotten until Henry mentioned it during a visit to Texas to see Mama
and Papa 50 years later
Mama was about 80 years old when Uncle Henry took the book from
the old trunk and asked me to take it to her. Papa had died many years
before.
I have one copy of those songs and there is a copy of them filed away
at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville.
Neither the Johnsons nor the Gaddies had any part in the Oklahoma
land rush. That took place in 1889, a few years before either family
arrived in Oklahoma.
I never once saw my Grandma Gaddie. She passed away in Oklahoma
in 1912. She suffered a sunstroke and died two weeks later.
Some years after that, Grandpa Gaddie came to live with us in Texas. I
don't remember exactly when he came, but he passed away while we
were living on the Exum place, and we moved from there in 1917. He
seemed quite old, maybe old ahead of his time because of hard work
and the severity of life at that time in our history.
Anyhow, he could do light odd jobs about the farm. There were always
outside chores to be done. We kids were glad to have him help us do
them. And he kept us kids company at times when there was no work
to be done.
But Grandpa was much more of a stranger to us than Grandma Johnson
was. She lived only a half-mile away; we grew up with her. But I guess

we hadn't seen Grandpa Gaddie more than once or twice before he
came to live with us.
Grandpa was never much of a bother in any way. He was never bedfast
and never had to be waited on. It didn't take much to feed him. We
raised almost everything we ate and he brought plenty of clothing with
him when he came. The entire family didn't require much money, and
we had plenty of other things in life.
Grandpa was agreeable and compatible. He was never grouchy. He had
a room and a bed of his own in our home and he soon became just one
of the family and was accepted by all of us.
Then one morning Grandpa didn't come to breakfast. A knock on his
door brought no answer. Had he slipped out and gone for a walk? No
one had noticed him out anywhere. This was unusual for Grandpa. He
was usually there on time for meals so the rest of us wouldn't have to
wait for him. In our home no one ever started helping his plate at meal
time until all were seated and the blessing was asked.
Papa knocked on Grandpa's door again, then he called to him, but there
was still no answer. As Mama and Papa opened the door to his room,
there he was, still in bed, still asleep--but he was not breathing. It
seemed that Grandpa just went to sleep and didn't wake up.
Papa went to Hamlin that morning in a wagon and brought back a
casket. The women dressed Grandpa in his best suit. Some men went to
the graveyard and dug a grave. Others went to tell the preacher, and
found him plowing in his field. He stopped plowing and went home to
clean up and eat dinner.
Grandpa was placed in his casket and loaded into a wagon. Then about
three o'clock we drove him to the Neinda graveyard where the preacher
and other friends were gathered. And there, that afternoon, we laid him
away in his final resting place.
It's amazing sometimes, how a very little thing can stick in the memory
of a little boy, and that's the way it was this time, just a simple little

statement made by an older brother one morning--a couple of mornings
after we had buried Grandpa. Four of us boys slept in the west room of
our home, the room usually referred to as "the boys room." We boys
were getting out of bed and getting dressed when Frank said, "Well,
Grandpa's in heaven by now." That was all he said. That was enough.
After that, an air of reverence filled the room. And as we finished
dressing, we left the room one by one, in complete silence. Frank had
no way of knowing how much I honored and respected him for that
little statement and the thought that went with it. I was too young and
timid to know how to tell him.
That's about all of my childhood