One Man's Treasure

      Recently I was visiting with my uncle Richard Davenport. We call him uncle Dickie. He is my mother’s younger brother. He lives in San Antonio with his wife aunt Margie and they are a joy to be with.  He has been the resident family historian and has been saving family nic nacs and little treasures of all kinds for many years.  He has rescued them literally out of the ravages of time and has stored them and archived them for many years. Many times he would tell me he had things for me and wanted me to come and get them but the timing was never right and my own ability to store such things limited. Now my kids are grown and space is coming available and the timing is right. I went to his house a few weeks ago and and began sorting through a whole garage full of things. Some things were to keep some to discard but all interesting and all have some link to our families past. One of the most important treasures that he passed on to me were old photographs of family. Photos that I have never seen and now for the first time I can see the faces of people that I had only known from stories and legend. These are only the first installment of more photos that are yet to be discovered. Here is a photograph that is one of my favorites. It is the Davenport family on a picnic down by the river most likely on a Sunday afternoon after their family church services.  In the foreground sitting on the grass in the center is a very young Rollie Davenport , my great grandfather, and in the upper right is his father John W. Davenport.  Great, Great, Grandma Emma is also in the photograph sitting center left next to the bonneted young woman and Rollie’s sister my great aunt Lila is sitting on the seat of the wagon in the upper center of the photograph. You can see the chuck wagon on the left that the ladies used to prepare their meal and the men pitched a tent in a rough arbor for shade. I’m sure it was a grand day.  This photo was taken most likely in the late 1890’s. Some Family friends , the buckaloos, Boyces’ and the kincheloes are also with them. My Dad told me that it was the families normal routine to go down to the river every Sunday for services gathered there with neighbors and friends come rain or shine. Grandpa Rollie used to tell of one such service held in the middle of an ice storm in which he said he thought he would freeze to death. This photograph for me is a little portal in time in which I can almost imagine myself climbing in the frame and taking my seat on the grass next to grandpa Rollie and just sitting and listening to the conversation going on. I wonder what tales would have been told?