Letterman's’ Club–Shidler Tigers

Luckily during my class year the requirements to join the Lettermen's Club were not so strict but this is a true story for previous years to remember.  I will be real curious who can verify or add to this story.  Certainly it is a classic.  by an Anonymous follower of thepioneerman.com
Dear Old Shidler High.
The Lettermen's' Club had already been formed, and belonging was a goal for every young jock. At one point in time, it became necessary to initiate a group of newbies into the Club, and that was to happen inside the gym. On the appointed evening, dads and sons converged, and the process began. Some of us were trembling, if not visibly on the outside, then at least on the inside, because stories had circulated that involved goats and other stuff that we might be required to be involved with, as part of the initiation. Seeing no goats in the gym, I for one breathed a bit easier...this obviously would not be as bad as we had conjured up!
The instructions came down, for the first part of the ceremony. We were to proceed into the girls' locker room and take all our clothes off. We were each handed a marshmallow, and with the marshmallow, the rules....  Well, we all have cheeks on our face, with our mouths between. And, we all have another set of cheeks...yep, that's right! Our task was to run full-throttle around the inside of the gym, one lap, with that marshmallow wedged as tightly as possible between those OTHER cheeks. Were the marshmallow to drop out during the run, the inductee would need to do it over!
Needless to say, not one among us wanted to drop that sweet treat, so TIGHT was the name of that game, and the run commenced. Everyone made it just fine, as I recall, back into the girls' locker room, and then the true nature of what our dads had done to us soaked in. You understand that in the running process, motion and friction between those cheeks happens, and the effect of that motion and friction on a marshmallow basically reduces the white sugar to VERY STICKY goo!
I don't even remember how the cleaning process went down, and that was only the beginning of the initiation! Other stuff we were required to do needs to come from some other source...help us out, here men! That is my contribution, and it just makes me tired...and so pleased to have been a Shidler Tiger Letterman!
Well this might be a stretch but what did you learn from the Osage:

• If you are making smoores look close at those marshmallows
• There is always a price to pay
• Examine the risk and reward before you commit to an investment

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Will you make a difference?

I have posted two stories today and one of them is an invitation to you so be sure and read two stories and both are short.

This is a true story that has happened over the last year and it represents the values of individuals and what I think comes from the Osage.

There is a young man who has down syndrome who struggles with communicating the basic things in life.  He loves people (shouldn't we) and he never meets a stranger because he does not care what your color is or what you look like, where you have been or where you are going.  He does not care how rich or how poor you are or considers the house you live in or the car you drive.  To him you are a person and you have value.  If you ask him to pray for you he will NOT forget and he will not say he will pray and then never follows through.  He prays for the al-Quida and he prays for the President, just like the Bible teaches.  He does not care if you have tattoos or ear rings or nose rings (I have to admit I do).  He does not judge in a critical way.  You can sure tell it is not me.

He struggles keeping a job because he does not understand when people laugh and he might tell you to "shut up" not because you were wrong in your laughter but because he does not understand.  He wants a job.  Not because he needs money but because he wants the satisfaction of a job.  He is great at busing tables and great at rolling flatware into napkins and he does not hesitate to clean up someone else's mess.

But here is a story he created but not intentionally.  The names have been changed but I want you to hear how you can make a difference just by being a friend.  That boy with down syndrome is our son, Preston, age 23.

Preston - Ranger by uniform and prayer worrier

Steve Davis - Ranger and cousin who gave Preston his uniform shipped from Afghanistan

This is a summary of an email by my wife:

Over the last year Preston has built a friendship with two employees of a local convenience store in Edmond, Martha and Brad.  My wife shared a piece of literature from our church with Brad who had become a close friend of Preston.   Brad resigned from his job but this opened the door as one of the girls, Martha asked Shouna and Preston to pray for her.  This week she shared with Shouna the need to try God's ways in her life as her ways were not working.  Today, Shouna asked her to be in a Bible study and she said, "that would be a very good idea and my friend would probably like to come as well." 


What did I learn from Preston who has down syndrome:

•  We can all make a difference if we just try to be friendly
• Don't ever judge 
• Be consistent in caring for people
• We can change the world, one friend at a time

Challenge yourself to do something for somebody even if you do not feel like it, it makes a difference.

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

An Invitation to visit the gardens-- April 2nd --

 It is a little early for the azaleas but there are lots of things in bloom.  Shouna and I invite you to come to the garden at our house to walk around and visit but I have to warn you we will be dressed to work in the garden as we expect a beautiful day so we can get some things done.

This Saturday from 3:00 to 5 the gardens are open but we have to leave shortly after 5.  Bring your cameras if you are like me and have the hobby.

If you are thinking about coming, send an email to thepioneerman.com and don't expect us to remember everyone's name.  We are getting older and now we have an excuse.

gary@thepioneerman.com

Salt Creek Bridge - not just another bridge

 


Here is another story about one of the bridges in the Osage.  

Now this is not the Salt Creek Bridge but you will remember it looked just like this one and it took people to a lot of places like the water falls and the Phillips Park (another bunch of stories).  This bridge was south of Shidler on OLD Highway 18, across Salt Creek, before the Highway got rerouted across the new bridge. Immediately south of the old bridge was a dirt road to the east, along the creek. That road went to the Shidler golf course, where Russell Whiles had a summer job as keeper of the "greens".   I  (thepioneerman) learned to play golf there and one of my best memories was Becky Sharp who was about the best golfer I ever played with.  When her family got moved to Borger, Texas and the North Sea, Shidler lost a great family.  It seems we lost a lot of families to those same towns plus  Bartlesville.

Now back to Russell:

The greens at this golf course were unique, made of oiled SAND! My job was to push a mower around the course and mow the tight spots near greens and tees, where the tractors could not mow...AND, to RAKE the greens! Raking a green was done by dragging a very heavy rake around the green (each green had one); beginning at the cup in the center and raking in concentric circles spiraling outward to the edge of the green. The rakes were heavy because they were cut
from a length of steel pipe, maybe 2 or 3 inches diameter and about 24 inches long. The pipe was split long-wise, and a long handle welded to one side of a half-pipe, with serrated teeth cut into the edge opposite the handle. After I raked each green with serrated spiral patterns, the golfers would use the smooth side of the same rake to drag a smooth putting path, from the cup out toward their ball.

Done for the day, I usually hoofed it down to the intersection by the bridge to wait for a ride. On this particular day, I spotted a HUGE wasp nest, very high in a tree by the road, and doing what boys do, I found a suitable rock to throw. My confidence level was low, thinking it mostly an impossible shot at
that angle and such a height, but my desire to try was strong.

The movie Field of Dreams had not been conceived, so the line had not been heard, "If you build it, they will come".   In the case of wasps and their nests, more accurately, "If you bust it, they will
come"! I did, and they did!  I turned on a dime...that Salt Creek Bridge was the only escape, my salvation! Mom picked me up on the other side of the bridge, that day, un-stung and triumphant, bragging even today on that throw!

Thanks Russell for a great story and a great memory.

What do you learn from the Osage?



·   Grass is always greener at a golf course besides ours in Shidler
·  Growing up the grass seemed greener and we moved away but now the grass IS GREENER in the   Osage
·  Home is where the heart is, the Osage

Thanks for your time,

gary@thepioneerman.com

Russell Whiles - Denoya Camp stories

You cannot live in the Osage without a story about living in the camps and Russell Whiles of Ponca had a few memories to share and I bet everyone can relate.  Thanks Russell.

I would have graduated with the class of 1966, had I stayed in school over there. As it turned out, however, my folks purchased a small restaurant over in Ponca City, and our family left its Phillips roots and moved to Ponca, where I did my Junior and Senior years. Having arrived in the oil field when I was maybe two years old, the first house was west of Shidler, in the small community of Denoya. My main memory from there was when my mom went into an absolute tizzie over finding a rather large and scary  scorpion in the bath tub. Shortly thereafter, we moved into a house in one of the many oil field "camps". 

Each camp had either a name, or a number, or both. Ours was #32, or Vinnedge...Or Vintage...I don't recall ever seeing it spelled out anywhere. There were other names like Bell and Big Bertha. #32 was laid out at the four-way stop one mile west of Webb City, running north, along the west side of the road. We lived at the north end, last house, and the magnificent maple tree with the best tree house in the country was in our front yard. A few years ago, that tree was still standing, although in some disarray. And, on all the ground between that tree and Stink Creek, to the north, grew one of the most prolific veggie gardens I have ever seen! I can still taste the sweet peas, fresh off the vines!

Oil field camps were long rows of houses where many of the Phillips employees lived, and each camp was unique, forming a small neighborhood, where everybody knew all the neighbors, and who was grouchy, and who lived with whatever ailments, and where a kid could get cookies once in a while. We grew extremely adept at walking atop the pipe fences, all the way from one end to the other, and back. Of course, that involved a learning curve, as we acquired our balance, and slips and falls were part of it, most memorably when we came down hard astraddle of the pipe!

The camps had some of the most prolific catalpa trees anywhere...prolific in the number of long "beans" they produced. Collecting those beans and whipping them through the air at your adversary in the next tree...those were the Bean Wars that occupied many Summer hours.

Sleeping under the stars, we learned many of the constellations, and even spotted the Sputnik, on numerous starry nights. Abundant mischief needed done, on those long hot nights, and sleep came much later.

As we got older, we were allowed to venture away from the camp, and scouting the countryside, we created the endless adventure that was kid-life in the oil patch. Out in the fields were even bigger pipes to walk on, maybe 8 or ten inch pipelines, some built above the ground and resting on braces, much like the Alaska Pipeline. And, where those pipes crossed a gully or ravine had a special draw for us. Those were places where our balancing abilities would either save our lives and limbs, or not. I can recall making it out over the deepest part of the ravine, and sitting down on the pipe, to ponder the rest of the day. We might have our BB guns with us, and those perches provided excellent sniper positions.

In the Winter, we explored just as hard as we did in Summer. A very hard freeze would make it possible for our light bodies to walk out on the pond ice. Couldn't attempt it with today's heavier bodies, and surely should not have done it then. The ice test was simply to walk gingerly, and listen to the cracking sounds, and go where the sounds seemed more diminished. And the adventure was even more fun when used our BB guns to bounce BB's off the ice and hit each other in the legs!

Neighborhood gatherings were always fun, and one of the frequent occasions were the thunderstorms. Especially the violent ones. For every few houses in the camp, there was a huge storm shelter...#32 had four or five of them, and some were fit for humans to be in...the others held water at various depths. The cellars with water worked fine as fish bait storage facilities, or live wells, to keep a stringer of fish in until they got cleaned. One even had loose fish swimming around that we could fish for. The dry shelters had wooden benches along each side, and candles, maybe a chair or two, and a special cool, damp, underground smell spiced with candle smoke. The smell was a good enough reason to go down there! The ladies and kids would stay in the shelter as the storm raged, sometimes for quite a while into the evening, and moms had brought blankets to bed us down on the benches, as they talked mom-talk and played cards. The men stood outside as long as they could, watching the skies, talking man-talk.

Playing cards was huge among the adults. Games would go late into the evening, at one house or another, and whenever bath time came along for the kids, we all got dumped into the same tub of water, frequently together, no matter if we were little boys or little girls. Then came time to go to sleep, and kids were everywhere, on furniture and on floors, and the low murmur of voices at the card table droned on and ran together, and good sleep came!

tid-bit was how to build a skateboard. It was a bit traumatic, to dismantle our beloved old steel roller skates, but the excitement was there...we had to do it, in order that we have two halves. Nail the front half near the front of a wooden board, and the rear half near the back, and voila! They worked famously, and some of us developed a real knack for skateboarding...without protective gear. Back at the 4-way intersection, we would head south, down the east side of the road, where there was an old concrete slab and other structures, from an old gasoline plant, or something. A lot of clean-up effort later, we actually had a pretty fun and challenging skateboard facility, and spent hours learning the moves. 

Bikes became very significant in later years. The big flat-top hill west of #32 we called Bowman's Hill. One Summer, we learned that any number of reptiles lived on Bowman's Hill, and some of us collected an impressive variety, put them all together in a barrel, and showed our moms...snakes, horny toads, lizards, turtles...My memory is foggy, right after that...I don't think our moms were impressed! Bikes allowed us to go on those long excursions, and riding down the paved road a mile south, to Henry Hammer's little store, was a special treat. Those trips were usually justified if we had a few glass soda-pop bottles to return, for two cents each. And a trip to Hammer's was a whole lot smoother than a wild run at full throttle down the bare-naked side of Bowman's Hill, not on the road!

Some of the kids in #32 included Jerry Hill, Craig and Bill Lotz, Jimmy Gorley, Andy Clark, Mike and Janie McKee, Bonnie Gatewood, Kenny Bright, my own sister Sharon...many more golden memories to be told, for sure!



What did we learn from the Osage:

• The best of times are easier to see in the rears
• The best of times are what you make of them and still to come
• Friends are friends forever unless they were not friends to start with
• God blessed us to have Roots in the Osage

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com


Comments from readers:

Jim Davis9:53pm Apr 7th

Re: Good Stuff, Jim!

Russell,
I read your post in Home on the Range again tonight. It brought back a whole bunch of old memories again.
I hope this is not all redundant. I tried to post some of this information on the Home on the Range. I never saw it there so here goes another try.
I lived along the west side of the Denoya road. The Hathcoat home was at the corner of the where the road that lead west to Kaw City. Back a 100 yards or so on the west side of the There was a family that I can no longer remember the name of that lived a little south of them and on the west side of the road. Just a little further south was Taylor’ Store. South of the store a little ways the road split. Straight ahead on Denoya rd., I believe you could drive all the way to Old Highway 66 and go east to Pawhuska or west to Ponca City. If you turned left you went down a long hill to a pecan farm. The owner used to let anyone pick as many pecans as they want as long as you gave them half.
We lived there from 1948 to 1960. Our home was built by my Dad. A 100 yard or so north of the Hathcoats and across the road was Ed Connelly’s home. Someone live across the Denoya from them and someone lived just north of them. We lived maybe 100 yards northwest of the Connelly’s. Just southwest of the Connelly’s a short distance was the Bill & Wilma Eden. They had two kids both younger than me. Billy and a sister I cannot remember. I think they ran the Dixie Dog at one time. Due west of the Connelly’s maybe 200 yards were the Lees.
I had two brothers. My older brother is Don Davis. He graduated in 1960. He now lives in Mountain Home Arkansas. My younger brother is Glenn who was born in 1955. He now lives in Grey Lake Illinois.
I certainly remember a lot of stories I would like to pass along. My wife just got home so I am going to close and continue this later.

Jim Davis

Beaver Creek Bridge - Where does it go?

Well I am no Huck Finn and my life was never like his but these old bridges bring back a lot of memories and stories that ought to be preserved.  So please send me your stories.

This bridge is straight west of Grainola on the first road outside of Grainola on your way to Neal and Sue McConaghy's house.  This bridge can take you to a lot of places and in fact is has taken a lot of folks all over the world.  Today I will tell you just a few of the places it took me.

It was the turn around point on hundreds of quail hunting trips with my brother Larry (above).  Just a side note he just retired from Clemson University where he built from scratch a Bull Research Center (not to be confused with my stories which some say are full of bull, just a joke).  He made us all proud being a Dr. of Cowology, just kidding on the cowology.  He really is a PhD (stands for Piled high and deep, just kidding again).  He just happens to be the smart one in the family and more than anything he always knew what he wanted to do and was very focused.  He lives in Barnwell, South Carolina.  Back to the story:  Those quail hunting trips were some of the best times and we never had hunting dogs unless you count me as the dog.  I never minded crawling up and down those creek banks trying to jump a few quail.

the rows of cut hay are called wind rows.

That old bridge was also where you could stand and shoot turtles for hours if you were not caught by dad and solicited to get back to helping on the farm.  The Beaver Creek Bridge was right next to several hundred acres of farm land that we leased from Aunt Helen Conner (now she really was not my aunt but that is what we called her and I loved her just like family - and she was family).  I remember one year we planted wheat and as we were getting it ready to plant maize we needed to burn off the straw.  Well we took off the straw spreader on the combine which caused the straw to be put it in wind rows like the hay in the picture above.  Now Dad had a fun idea and that was I took a two gallon can of gasoline and ran as fast as i could pouring gasoline on those rows.  As soon as I was done Dad and I lit the straw with gasoline.  Wow, it was so cool as the fire chased the rows of hay back and forth across the field.  Now don't go play with fire and matches.

That bridge was also the way to Tanny and Nanny Olsen's place (those names are real and they did marry each other and yes we are relatives even though we don't spell it the same so stop asking questions).  The great thing about that was as soon as you crossed the bridge you could turn right and go down to Spec Weaver/Don Conner's old place or Soup's fishing hole or on around to the the rest of the world.  But if you crossed the cattle guard and went straight west it was open range country (bet you don't know what a cattle guard is?  or open range country) you would cross another bridge that crossed over about a 5 acre pond.  It was known for its fish and I loved it when dad would take off and we would go fishing there.  One time we met some friends there that had fished all night using trotlines.  The had about 20 catfish and the smallest was 16 lbs.  From there you would pass the big round barn which looks like a setting moon when you are back east.  Then on past the limestone hills and on to the train trestle.  Now that was really cool because for years that is where the trains crossed and that is also how all the cattle were taken to Kansas City and beyond.

But one year as the train had already been shut down the Trestle was to be removed.  That trestle was where you tested your nerve.  I believe it was Jay Olsen who was the last person to walk across the trestle before it was blows down with dynamite.  The fear was always getting caught on the trestle and a train would be coming but as far as I know no one ever got caught on the trestle when a train came.  Anyway there was a big gathering as the dynamite was put in place.  It took hours for them to plant the dynamite and it was like a big party.  But that day when they lit the fuse and the many cases of dynamite blew the trestle never moved.  I did not get to see it fall but it was like a party with everyone parked there watching all day.  A day or two later it fell after more dynamite had been planted.  It was really a shame to see it gone.

Man I can think of forty-eleven stories about that bridge and where it has taken me and I look forward to telling you more.

What did I learn from that old bridge:

• That bridge can take you wherever you can imagine but you make the choice
• That bridge or any bridge can be your bridge to nowhere or anywhere
• A bridge allows you or me to "seize the day"
• I have been blessed by God and by that old bridge 

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Grace in the Osage

Eddy Harris and me

I hope ya'll don't think real bad of  Eddy and me but we were creative and you could blame that on our teachers or our parents but we just seemed to be thinking up things to do all the time. 

For the most part as I look back you might have concluded we were ADD or ADHD or some derivative of that which gets treated nowadays with Ridlin.  In fact I will throw Jon Tanny under the bus on that one as he was about the same way but he just was not part of this particular problem.  Now just one side note or opinion.  It would be my opinion that when you get a little overactive and creative the best thing to do is punish the bad behavior not drug'em.  Anyway what worked best for Eddy and me was some level of fear of the consequences for our bad behavior although with the volume of orneriness you might think we were over the top.  Well the reason I just went through all of this is I am about to tell you of a few things Eddy and I did that we probably should not have done.  Probably is not the right word.

Ok, here goes.  Eddy and I generally carried guns with us and in particular in our vehicles all the time (about everyone our age carried their guns in their trucks), even to school.  Now we did not hide them and in fact we displayed them in the back windshield of the pickup before, after and during school.  At lunch we sometimes would go out to the country and do a little shooting.  Generally turtles in the creek or an occasional coyote.  That may sound crazy but there were so many coyotes that the government paid you $4 for the ears of a coyote as an incentive to cut down the population.  It was a symbol or honor to hang the dead coyotes on the fencepost by your ranch.  We use to count them to see which farmer or rancher was the best at coyote hunting.  I remember one time we counted over 40 coyotes hanging on the fence posts and as I remember it was Ernie Eaton who had those.  Now the most famous coyote hunter in my mind was Paul Jones because he hunted with an airplane.  On Sundays you would hear him flying during church.  Paul Jones had the most greyhounds (not the bus but the dogs) and he would turn those greyhounds loose to chase the coyotes then he would follow them with the airplane. Most of the time there were a few pickups on the ground trying to stay up with the dogs.  It was pretty wild at times.  You might check with Bob Jackson but I think he totaled a perfectly good pickup while coyote hunting.

Well I got off track a little but the point is Eddy and I got a little stupid one time and decided to shoot all of the signs on Carl and Aladyne McConaghy's ranch.  Now I knew better but it did not stop me from being just plain stupid.  The bad news got worse as somehow Carl figured out who was the culprit and called my dad or mom.  Mom informed me how mad dad was and how deep of trouble I was in.  They did not ask me if I was guilty, they assumed correctly I was guilty.  Mom informed me that I was going to go over there to their house and apologize to the entire family.  I was shaking in my boots as I pulled up to the ranch house.  As I remember Carl was outside and he called everyone in the family to come and listen.  I did apologize and Carl forgave me which kind of blew me away.  I was humiliated for doing something so disrespectful to friends and neighbors.  You know they never mentioned it again and Glen and I have been good friends our entire lives.

Well I am sure I will give you more stories on Eddy and I but what did we learn:

• Think about your actions and how they effect other's lives
• Remember there are consequences for bad behavior
• Not everyone has the grace of forgiveness like Carl and Aladyne

It is Sunday and I am going to church and I still ask for forgiveness for something all the time.  Did I ever learn?  Yes, I learned the value of GRACE, John 3:16.

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Great Teachers make Great students

Thank you for these comments and I don't need to say more other than there are a lot of teachers who made a difference.

In Honor of Those Teachers here are some of the comments:

David McCollum commented on your link.

David wrote: "Gladys Snyder was terrific, as were most of our Shidler educators. I say this even though she gave me my only "B" in high school. I couldn't convince her that my 92.468 average could be rounded to a 93. Consequently the B+. Mrs. Snyder always took time with those who needed help, and gave special assignments to the brainiacs like Delores Van Camp and Allen DiVall. Our teacher taught because they loved to teach. I thank each of them for what they did for Shidler."

 

Marcus B. Whitt II commented on your link.

Marcus wrote: "Gladys was not only a wonderful teacher but a truly wonderful person. I will always remember her willingness to help some of us that, at times, were struggling with trig and calculus. She save my butt many a times by taking the personal time to help me. She was my favorite high school teacher!"

Jesse Garrison commented on your link.

Jesse wrote: "in the late sixties and early seventies there were five military pilots maybe more from Shidler at the same time. I know each and every one had Gladys Snyder as a teacher for at least algebra, trig, geometry, maybe calculus with some of these classes being primary for aviation studies. Not to mention all of the successful engineers, chemists, doctors, pharmacists, etc., who use math in their daily lives."

Vicki Hathcoat Godbehere commented on your link.

Vicki wrote: "Yes - she did - I told her that one year at homecoming! So did Mrs. Head - and I told her too! Her College Prep classes gave me the ability to speak and write proper English - and I am SO grateful for that and her!"

Marlene Fields commented on your link.

Marlene wrote: "She most certainly did, as did all the other "old" teachers we all had! What a great woman!"

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

True Grit in Real Life - Carl Kelly

The first thing I have to do is tell you who is in this picture:
Dee Bartgis
Wayne Patterson (Erlene Lane's oldest son and my cousin)
Charles Hale
Max Taylor (another relative on the Lane side from Wichita)
Carl Kelly (Grainola)
Paul Kelly (Grainola)
David Harris  (Vea Harris's son who married  Jan, PET was her nick name by some of us at Shidler)

• did I mention that PET stood for Pregnant English Teacher, ask her

Norma Harris (Vea Harris's oldest daughter living in Tennessee)
Charles Kelly (Chuck of Grainola)
Robert Kelly (of Grainola)

 I know you all know a lot of stories on a lot of these folks but I am going to start with one of my favorites because I think this is "True Grit:" from the Osage and Beaver Creek.

Carl Kelly does not stick out to a lot of you but he is as tough as they come or at least one of the toughest.  The reason I have to couch it that way is the story about my Dad, Cliff Olson, and a story I have wanted to tell for years about Snid Snyder (coming soon kind of like the movies).

I don't know what year it was but Leon Custer knows and I sure would like to hear his version so if someone knows how to get a hold of him I would be willing to get his side of this story.  Anyway, back to Carl. 

You see Carl was out hunting or working cattle and as always he was carrying a gun.  I believe it was a rifle.  Anyway it went off and shot him in the calf of the leg which created a lot of blood flow and a certain amount of pain.  The story I was told was his horse got spooked and he basically crawled back to the house.  The good thing is it was winter which probably helped keep him from dying from heat, loss of blood and exhaustion.  He made it home which is obvious else the story would be over and made it to the doctor where they bandaged it up.  Now when you live in the country west and north of Grainola you are about 45 miles from a doctor although at that time they may have still had a doctor in Shidler which would have been about 18 miles from his house.  I wish I knew who the doctor was.  Well when you get that kind of damage you are supposed to change the bandages often and keep the wound clean.  That was pretty true for Carl until it was time for harvest.

Wheat harvest nowaday's at the McConaghy farm

Neal and Sue's combine

For most folks they don't know what happens when harvest rolls around but the entire Kelly family loaded up their combines, trucks and trailers and headed first south then slowly marched north all the way to the Dakotas combining wheat.  Many times they would rally some of the other young kids (Leon Williams in particular) and hire them to assist on harvest.  The job lasted a few months and was a great way for farmers to pay for their equipment and make some money to support their farming habits.  A little side note:  In western Oklahoma farmers and ranchers make money the old fashion way - they have an oil well on their property. In the Osage you go on harvest or like Joe Fulsom you start a company to assist in building roads (another story).

When you are on harvest the combines run as long as the wheat is able to be cut and sometimes that means 24 hours a day.  It is a grueling effort but the rewards are nice in that you make good money in a short period of time.  What that also says is Carl did not take time to change his bandage on that leg with the hole in it.  Now be careful here because if you don't have a strong stomach you probably should stop reading.  I should also point out that harvest is one of the dirtiest and dustiest jobs available to a farmer.  Well Carl called in Leon and asked him to check his bandage which had not been changed in a couple of weeks!

Leon cut the bandage off and low and behold the wound was full of maggots eating the dead flesh away.  Leon immediately went outside to relieve himself of his dinner and anything else that he had eaten in a few days.  Carl checked in with a local doctor who said that the maggots probably saved him from getting gangrene because they ate the infection and all the dead skin and meat.  Have you had enough?

I put in a picture of maggots but thought it was a little too gross.

I knew Carl as one of the hardest working guys.  They were one of the cornerstones of the Osage.

What did we learn:

• Maggots are not all bad
• Sometimes we should help our neighbors on an empty stomach
• God has a sense of humor

Thanks for your time and have a great lunch,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Subtle Encouragements go a long way - Gladys Snyder

I don't know about you but Gladys Snyder made a difference in a lot of lives one of which was mine.  She was just a school teacher.  NO, she was a great mentor and she demanded the best from all of us.

I bet that if you look back over your life it was small encouragements at the right time that made a huge difference in your life.  You see when there is a small encouragement to someone the further they move from that moment the greater the impact of that encouragement.  Does that make since?  Let me illustrate:

The second lady from the right is - Gladys Snyder

Aunt Gladys, Happy Butt (remember the story), Mrs. Snyder or whatever else you called her gave me a few of those small encouragements that made a big difference.  You see when she was teaching algebra and in particular that new algebra that everyone complained about (do you remember complaining or your parents complaining).  She was teaching the 8th graders in Shidler and I was still only in the 5th grade.  But something interesting happened, she knew that I had a tendency to enjoy math and puzzles so she would give me copies of her test that were going to the 8th graders.  She told me that I was doing problems they could not do.  I don't know if she was telling the truth but it made me think I COULD.  Do you remember the Little Red Engine that SAID I COULD.

I was extremely encouraged and wanted to do more.  I asked for more and she gave me more.  Then she would give me a puzzle and she would help me figure it out or ENCOURAGE me to work harder on it.  Then she would compliment me on my effort even if I was totally wrong.  Does anyone remember when she would give you partial credit for your efforts on a test problem?  Were you encouraged?  Did that not encourage you that you were on the right track?  Have you considered what a little encouragement from you could do for someone?

Today I want to encourage you to thank a teacher, a mentor, or someone who made a difference in your life.

I can name a lot of them:

• My Mom
• My Dad
• Aunt Gladys
• Mrs. Shumate
• Aunt Peggy and Uncle Bill Heath
• Mr. Fulsom
• Mrs. Head
• Mrs. Himbury
• Coach Cotham
• Mr. Gilstrap
• John Murphy (another story, well all of these folks are another story)
• the list goes on and on and I want to honor them.

What did I learn from the Osage?
It seems most everything.

Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

The Bucket List - do you have one?

Chase and me around the Continental Divide Near Platoro, Colorado

You are never too young to have a "Bucket List" and I should have started one earlier.  The photo above is something I always wanted to do and that is back pack.  I just wished I had never waited so long to begin.

25 miles later from 8500 ft to 12,100 ft. and back

Sleeping was easy

Chase at an old Miner's log cabin

The reason this is today's topic is I have been spending a lot of time the last two weeks and particularly the last week getting ready for what is called a "Series 65" test to be a Retirement Investment Representative of a Retirement Investment company.  Yes it is in my bucket list and I almost got it out of the bucket today.  After this one I start another set of classes called a CFP.  People have always thought I was off so I am just proving it.

Well there is good news and bad news.  If you don't know what that means let me explain:  it is kind of like when your mother in law drives over a cliff in your new Fire Red Ford F-150 with navigation and leather seats etc.  Now does it make since?  By the way, my mother in law is a pretty good one but I still like the joke.  Ok, back to the good news and bad news.  The good news is I took the test today and the bad news is, I took the test today.  Do I need to spell it out?  I missed by one question, too many!

Now let me explain another good news and bad news story and don't get your under ware in a wad over this because I am part Indian so I can tell this story.  Here goes:  There was once a drought in Osage County and there was a chief who got concerned there was not enough food so he sent out two braves to hunt for food.  A couple of days later the two braves came back one with some good news and one with some bad news.  The chief said, "give me the bad news first".  So the bad news brave stepped forward and said, "all we can find to eat is buffalo chips".  The chief was very disappointed and concerned.  But he remembered there was good news so he asked, "what is the good news?".  The good news brave stepped forward and said, "the good news is there is plenty of buffalo chips". 

So here is what this brave learned:

• You choose to be a bad news brave or a good news brave.
• It does not matter if the news is bad but it matters did you do your best
• It does not matter if you were knocked down in defeat but did you get back up
• Defeat is temporary and success is always available to those who get up one more time

I was excited to take the test and am excited that I can take it again.  I am blessed by today and that tomorrow is coming. You must know that being raised in the Osage has made me a better person.

I can, I will and I am going to - do one more thing in my bucket list.

Encourage someone else.
Thanks for your time,
gary@thepioneerman.com

Go watch "The Bucket List"
The Bucket List