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?

Truth or Consequences

Years ago when I was a kid there was an old television show that we watched called “Truth or Consequences.” It was hosted by Bob Barker and the premise of the show was that Bob would ask the contestant a quiz question and if the contestant answered correctly he could win a prize, however, if they answered incorrectly a buzzer would sound and they would have to pay the consequence. Usually the consequence was having to do some sort of silly stunt, which was entertaining and funny. At the end of every episode Bob Barker would sign off by saying, I’m Bob Barker and here’s hoping all your consequences are happy ones.”

            It would be a pleasant reality if all consequences were happy ones but, as you know that is not the reality in life. Many consequences of life are difficult and hard to bear. This truth about life makes it imperative that we think about what we do and weight the possible outcomes for our actions. Unfortunately human nature is such that we often act impetuously and selfishly desiring to gratify the worldy appetites of life without thinking about the long-term consequence that might be the cost. To make matters worse we often fail to see that our act of selfishness sometimes brings a cost to bear for generations beyond our own.  This principle also works in reverse.  When we do acts of righteousness and deeds that bless the lives of others the reward we receive is often a blessing upon ourselves and sometimes even blessings that extend to our children and our grandchildren.

The Bible has much to say about this truth.  Galatians 6:7: Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth unto his own flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth unto the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap eternal life.  The beginning principle of this verse is one of sobering judgment. God is not mocked. God is sovereign and his word is everlasting.  When God pronounces something as sin than it is so. We as mortals can accept the reality of that and therefore bring our lives into conformity with that truth or we can ignore God’s word, rail against it’s truth and go our merry way deceiving ourselves into thinking that there will be no real consequence for ignoring God’s will. The result of coarse is the consequence of our choices almost always brings upon us the bitter harvest. The inevitable reaping of what was sown. 

I have observed this principle lived out in my own life as well as watching it lived out in the lives of friend and family and I must say that God’s word holds true in every case that I have been able to observe. Let us consider for a moment the bible story of Cain and Abel. Gen 4:3-15. Both young men decided to offer a sacrifice of worship to God using the first fruits of their possession in offering.  Abel gave an animal sacrifice offering the first fruits of his flock and the fat thereof, which is to say the best that he had.  Cain however gave an offering of the fruit of the ground, which was some part of his harvest; he was as the bible said a tiller of the ground. God however accepted Abel’s offering, the KJV version renders it “ had respect unto Abel and his offering.” Evidently both young men had been taught the proper way to sacrifice unto God, but Cain’s offering God had no respect for because it was not made in the proper way and perhaps without the proper attitude. God says to Cain (from the NIV) Gen 4:7 “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.”

            Is this not the dilemma that we all face at times? God’s word tells us plainly what we should do to please him and thus be blessed in our lives but somehow we chafe at God’s plan for us and believe that somehow what we desire, indeed what we think is a better alternative to God’s way will work just as well. God warned Cain that he could be accepted too if he chose to do right but If he failed to do what was right “Sin croucheth at the door.” Of coarse we remember the rest of that story. Because of his jealousy and rage Cain killed his brother and thus committed the first recorded murder in history and thus brought judgment on himself the consequences of which lasted through generations of his family. When the Lord pronounced judgment on Cain. Cain protested in Gen 4:13 “ My punishment is more than I can bear!” The Lord then put a mark on Cain and a curse on all who would harm him to protect him and Cain became a wanderer, driven from the lord’s presence to the land of Nod.

            Isn’t Cain’s reaction sometimes the reaction we have to our own consequences in life? Sometimes we are tempted to shake our fist at God and declare that God is unjust. That his standards of life are too hard to live by and that somehow we should be spared from bearing the consequence of our own sin. It’s always someone else’s fault if not God then some other person surely not ourselves. Sometimes we confuse God’s forgiveness of our sin with the expectation that forgiveness means we get to skip out on the consequence for our sins. It’s kind of like in the little children’s game of kings X. If we do the right thing and repent and ask god for forgiveness than that means that we are expecting God will then just somehow magically make all things better and create a do over and put everything that is broken back into order. Sometimes what is broken cannot be put back in order. Humpty Dumpty cannot be put back together again as in the nursery rhyme. In those times how do we act? What do we do?

            I am not speaking here of eternal consequences. God has provided ways that all who come to him in humble repentance and obedience through Christ can escape the eternal consequence of sin. Romans 5:8: “But God commendeth his own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, shall we be saved from the wrath of God through him.” I am speaking about the consequences that we may yet have to bear beyond repentance.

            King David found that his sin with Bathsheba had consequences beyond his own life when he sinned in committing adultery with her. As a direct result of his sin David bore great sorrow and the pain of knowing that what he was to witness later in the destruction of his own family came by his own hand.  11 Samuel 12:7 “Thus saith Jehovah, the God of Israel, I anointed thee king over Israel, and I delivered thee out of the hand of Saul; and I gave thee thy master’s house, and thy master’s wives into thy bosom, and gave thee the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added unto thee such and such things. Therefore hast thou despised the word of Jehovah, to do that which is evil in his sight? Thou hast smitten Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and hast taken his wife to be thy wife, and hast slain him with the sword of the children of Ammon. Now therefore the sword shall never depart from thy house, because thou hast despised me, and hast taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be thy wife.

Thus saith Jehovah, Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thine own house; and I will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy neighbor, and he shall lie with thy wives in the sight of this sun. For thou didst it secretly: but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun. And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against Jehovah. And Nathan said unto David, Jehovah also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die.”

David repented of his sin and felt great sorrow and regret that he had sinned against Jehovah and thus Jehovah God forgave him of his secret sin but as we can see David still had to bear the consequence of his own evil actions. God can help us bear these heavy burdens but we must take the example of David when he prayed and fasted for the illegitimate child he had conceived with Bathsheba. He prayed that the lord would spare the child but upon receiving the news that the child was dead David humbly accepted the will of God in this matter. He washed, changed his clothes and went into the house of the lord and worshipped. David realized he could not change the past only learn from it and try to make his future choices more aligned with the will of God. So it is with our own lives. Our choices can affect our lives and those we love. It’s a sobering reality and one worth thinking about.

Psalm 51:7-13 “Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness that the bones, which thou hast broken, may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with a willing spirit. Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee.”

Oh! Baby!

Verdi, Church of Christ

photo by Terry Jeanson march, 2009

Recently I was standing in the foyer of the church building during the Sunday services just previous to the Centennial celebration. Joe Wayne Vickers and I were manning the doors for the men serving communion, and as Joe is apt to do he shared with me a funny story about the early beginnings of the church. Joe's family the Vickers and the Brite's were one of the early founding families of the Church in Pleasanton. The church in Pleasanton was actually an outgrowth from the little community Church of Christ in Verdi. Here is the story he related to me in his own words.

  

  I'm not sure of the exact time this happened, but I would say around 1900.  My grandfather was one of 15 siblings who were raised near Verdi.  If I remember correctly, 9 of the 15 were boys, and of course Verdi, Texas around 1900 was probably not a hotspot of entertainment.  Some of the younger brothers were notorious as pranksters, and one particular Sunday morning they seized upon a golden opportunity.  Most families drove to Sunday services in horse-drawn wagons, and the Church building was a simple one-room structure.  It was apparently the custom of the day that those families with babies would leave their sleeping infants covered up in the wagons parked just ouside the Church building, and the mothers would go outside to tend to them if necessary.  During that Sunday's worship service, while the congregation was singing and drowning out the sound of any activity outside, the brothers sneaked around the building and switched the babies from one wagon to another.  By the time it was discovered, several families had driven off for home with the wrong babies.  In the days before cars and even telephones in this rural area, it must have taken some time to get it all sorted out.

    No one is sure what kind of punishment the boys received, but whatever it was, it did not deter them. Not long after, they disrupted a Sunday service by entering the church after services had started, parading down the aisle and parking themselves on the front row--all dressed from head to toe in women's clothing.  They did get in trouble for that one, and they either saw the light or felt the heat, because the pranks (at least those involving the Church) came to a stop after that.

    Years later, after all 15 of his children had grown up into respectable adults, my great-grandfather remarked that he was very proud that none of his children ever went to jail or got elected to the Legislature.  One of those teenage mischief-makers, incidentally, was Jim Brite, who lived to his late 80's, and as far as I know, never missed a Sunday Church service in his adult life.

Joe V.

Trails of Honor

The last few days we have been trying to get my daughter Emilie enrolled in the Arts Institute of San Antonio.  We have been going over the financial aid options and looking for possible scholarship money that she can qualify for.   Trying to figure out how to finance college can just about make your head explode.  When you look at that whooping $80,000 dollar figure for the four year cost of a college you wonder how in the world that we can come up with that kind of money.  Emilie is the youngest of four children and Katharine and I have been trying to underwrite the expense of all of our children as they struggle to put themselves through school.  They have been working and paying as much as they can as they go and are starting their working lives off already in debt but so are most young people as they try to get through college these days.  I am trying to afford this all on a coal miner’s pay. My wife is a school teacher and together we have made a comfortable living.  We have all that we need and we feel blessed. Sometimes I am tempted to be resentful of the Federal government. If it had left us alone we would have had plenty to accomplish this task of educating our children and had some left to tuck away for a retirement one day.  Much of my retirement, however, is now a memory now having spent it to pay off my house and other bills and what little was left Uncle Sam sucked up like a vacuum cleaner with taxes and penalties.  I feel tempted to be angry at the government but being angry will accomplish little.   It is what it is and now we must just keep going. In an age were many have no conscience about defaulting on debts and just walking away from responsibility I feel at times tempted to do the same. Yet I know better. My debt is my own and I will bear it.

I woke up this morning thinking about this challenge and feeling a little like a small boat in a great big sea looking ahead to a very dark and troubled storm looming in the distance.  I said a quick prayer and threw one foot down on the floor and decided to focus on this morning’s immediate need, which was to get the girls to school on time.  That being accomplished I came back and took care of a few morning chores and then sat down to write while I have some time before picking up Emilie once again. We will go back to the Art Institute for our enrollment appointment this afternoon.  As I sift through my feelings about all this I once again go back in my mind to my great grandfather Rollie Davenport.  I had so little time as a small boy to actually interact with him, yet his shadow looms large over me because of the character of his life and the example he set in the face of difficulty and trial.  He was loved by my father for the same reason and my father’s experiences with him and Granny Pearl’s stories about him have sustained me and reminded me of important values in life that are worth holding on to.  Even though he travelled in a time ahead of my own his tracks are deep and wide and I hope my tracking skills will lead me in a righteous path.

Late in Rollie and Pearl’s life they met with such tragedy that would have crushed and destroyed people of lesser character, but by the Lord’s grace they survived and persevered.  Their only daughter Helen was stalked and murdered by her estranged husband.  She was gunned down in broad daylight on a street corner in San Antonio, as she was about to board a city bus on her way home after work.  Leaving behind three small children, my mother and her two brothers, Helen’s life was cut short in a drunken fit of rage by a husband who was filled with anger and resentment over her rejection of him. Due to his failure to support and his philandering and drinking Helen made the decision to divorce and move on with life. Dick Squyre , my grandfather, after shooting her down then turned the gun on himself and tried to commit suicide but failed to do the job and instead was left wounded but alive. After being nursed back to health he was tried and convicted of murder and was sentenced to 40 years in prison.  In one fell swoop of fate my mother and her brothers lost both their parents and Rollie and Pearl though in deep grief were now facing the prospect of raising three young children with very little money and in the sunset of their years.  Grandpa Rollie had been a cowman and rancher all of his life owned very little property and had accumulated very little wealth and now at this age was also not in good health.  All this looming over him he did not shrink or cast off his responsibility but went to work doing the best he could to provide and make a home for his grandchildren.  His sisters great aunts Dovie and aunt Lila did what they could to help and with this somehow they “eked” out a little living.

Sabinal, Texas was a little town were everybody knew everybody else’s business.  A murder was a real scandal during those days and the pain of living through the loss of their daughter and the surrounding circumstances had left my grandmother Pearl’s heart resentful and bitter toward her estranged son in law. His name was simply not mentioned around her even into my own generation. When my grandmother lived with us this tragic story was never spoken of.  I did not know of it, in fact, until I was nearly a high school senior. Grandma Pearl dealt with her grief and though it was heavy she rose out of the gloom and in time was in fact a jolly person who knew laughter and joy. All that knew her remembers her as being a person full of life and laughter. I do not know how my Grandpa Rollie dealt with his grief but I sense he had no time to dwell on it but was rather focused on trying to bring in some income for the family.  The loss of his daughter took place in 1944 during a time when Grandpa was employed as foreman for his sister Lila’s ranch. He continued as foreman for a while but later bought and sold his own herd keeping them ranged on a small leased place somewhere near Yancey, Texas.  He made income of this enterprise for a while until the great drought of the early fifties that began in 1955.  Making it in the cattle business during those days was really tough and paydays were few and far between.  Many cattlemen lost their herds and “went bust.” Grandpa had just bought a small herd just before the drought hit.  He spent the next few years just trying to keep them alive and hoping to at least break even.  Toward the end he was literally herding them along the public highways letting them graze on what little green grass could be found there.  He and my dad often spent days herding them day and night along the highways to try to keep them alive until he could sell them.  During this period of time Pearl and Rollie opened a little store near the school in Sabinal selling B.B.Q brisket and hamburgers. My mother worked there during her high school days.  The school kids bought hamburgers for lunch and Grandpa’s B.B.Q was popular with folks.  His sauce recipe was a particular success and at one point he was offered a considerable sum for the recipe.  That recipe is still used in our family today when we get together for family reunions and gatherings of all kinds.  Somehow piecing together income from whatever skills he had Grandpa Rollie kept the wolf away from the door.  It could not have been easy at his age.  The old house that they lived in was not with modern convenience.  It was a very humble wood slat structure with a big front porch and a screened-in back porch.  It had no indoor plumbing and it’s heating was dependent on an old wood stove and gas butane stove in the kitchen.  It’s cooling was based on high ceilings and open windows and whatever breeze the good lord provided.  It was simple and humble by any measure but it was a loving home and the best he and grandma Pearl could provide.

Somehow Rollie and Pearl Davenport ran their race together with dignity and honor.  They held their head high and just continued raising their grandchildren in a Christian home providing what they could as they could.  Sometimes I ponder what might have been. What might have been if my grandfather Dick Squire would have made better choices and not have succumbed to the pressure of temptation and listened to the angels of his darker passions.  What might have been if my great grandfather Rollie had been a lesser man and had given in to the temptation to pass his responsibilities on to someone else. Both of my grandfathers left behind a trail to follow.  They left tracks in the sands of time that speak a lesson to me.  I do not judge grandfather Squires harshly.  I guess I can never know what he was thinking and what he was facing and how he eventually arrived to a place where he was holding a pistol in the middle of a street ready to take his own life and murder his wife.  How can I ever get into his mind and know for sure what really happened in secret places of his mind.  I spend little time pondering what can never be known, but I do spend time thinking about the consequences of his choices.  His tragic choice forever changed the coarse of our family history and left a deep scar and a void that exists even today in my own generation.

 Dick Squyre died a few years after being released from prison.  He was released into the custody of a brother after serving his sentence and lived the last years of his life in a nursing home in Oklahoma.  I never met him, though at times I regret not having the opportunity to answer many questions that, as far as I know, were taken to the grave.  I have on occasion tried to research Squyre family history but as yet have been unsuccessful in trying to find someone that knew him or could answer some of those questions. My mother as a little girl kissed him, as he was lead away in handcuffs to prison and never again saw his face.  My mother in her characteristic way has made peace with all these things and does not dwell on things beyond her control but is always focused on her own family.  The tragedy of loosing her parents at a young age I will always believe has been part of the reason that she has been so focused on cherishing family.  She is the most meek and gentle and servant minded person I have ever known.  She followed in the tracks of Grandpa Rollie and dutifully cared for them in their last years and also my father’s parents even while trying to raise her own 6 children.  My parents did not dodge or pass off their own responsibilities but also took on the challenges of life with faith and fidelity.

These tracks are worth following, As I meet my own challenges I must say Thank you Grandpa, your life speaks to me even beyond the grave.

Foundations of Faith

Next Sunday the Pleasanton Church of Christ will celebrate it’s Centennial Celebration. Think of it, 100 years in existence. Starting with only a few families meeting together during the pioneer days of our state the Church has slowly grown to over two hundred souls currently meeting together and has established a wonderful legacy of spreading the message of the Gospel of Christ beyond their own borders and even into the far corners of the world. As we celebrate the accomplishments of the Church in the past 100 years and remember it’s humble beginnings, it is important for us also to ponder it’s future and want to draw upon lessons learned from the past. One of those lessons became very clear to me years ago when I was travelling on one of my first mission trips to India, accompanying my father Don Norwood and former Elders Ned Royal.

We were in the city of Mysore, which was one of the great cities built by the Maharaja of Mysore, Tipu Sultan, who was a mogul ruler of south India in the early 18^th century. We had toured his magnificent palace earlier in the day, and we had scheduled to meet with the three local Churches in that city. The last meeting of the day was started at nightfall and continued by the light of a single dim light bulb supplemented by candlelight.  The majority of the people that made up those congregations were converts from the Hindu religion.  Most of them were very young in the faith and still had only a rudimentary understanding of the doctrines and teachings of the Church. They were naturally always comparing the Hindu thinking and experiences to their new faith in Christ.  The Hindu religion is very tied and entrenched in a brick and mortar mentality since their Gods themselves are indeed idols that have been crafted and built by human hands.  The Hindu temples that are literally everywhere in the Indian landscape are huge stone edifices adorned with all kinds of strange half human half beast mythical creatures. The stonework and the architecture of these temples are testament to the skill and creativity of their fertile minds.  Worshiping these “Gods” for years makes a difficult transition to understanding some of the elementary truths of the Gospel.  God is a spirit and cannot be crafted in some image envisioned by man’s mind.  No man has seen him or heard him but comes to know him through faith in Christ Jesus.  That God’s spirit does not live in temples made by the hands of men but rather God spirit indwells his people and that collectively his people make up his body the Church. 

These concepts in the beginning are hard to grasp for a people who have all their lives looked at God as a huge stone figure, which is the image of a spiritual creature they fear to displease. They are constantly sacrificing to it to gain its approval and blessing.  They are constantly building up the temples and the grander and more magnificent the temple the more the people take pride in it, some traveling in pilgrimages for miles to worship at the famed temple.  I have witnessed them walking bare footed, lashing themselves, torturing themselves as they go believing that if they make a vow to the Gods to pilgrimage and sacrifice at the temple they will receive the desire of their heart, some favor the Gods may impart.

In Mysore that night as the worship service was concluding one of the Indian brothers meekly came forward with a letter of petition, which he read, by candle light as another translated. The point of the petition was a request for the American missionaries to donate money to them for the acquisition of property and materials in order to build a suitable worship facility. The idea was a simple one that we heard often repeated from the new Indian Christians in those early days of our mission effort. The idea was in a phrase “If you build it they will come”.  They thought that in order to spread the gospel to their community they would have no legitimacy or respect from their Hindu neighbors unless they built a sanctuary that was as impressive and attractive.  They viewed the brick and mortar church building itself as the key to their legitimacy as a church and no one would consider them as a viable religion without some kind of temple that could be seen by men. My Dad began to bristle a bit being quite annoyed at the request at first but then catching himself, and in spite of his physical weariness he then patiently answered the request with a short lesson about the power of the Gospel message. He spoke about how the power of the Gospel message itself would be the very instrument that would draw their neighbors to the church. The Gospel needs no help from any brick and mortar temple to grow and thrive once planted in the hearts and mind of people.  Colossians 2:8-10  “Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ. For in him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily. And you are complete in him, which is the head of all principality and power”

 This principle I find is fundamental and sadly misunderstood even among more mature Christians on both sides of the ocean.  No we have not come to finance and build church buildings all over south India. Instead we have come to plant the Gospel seed.  Plant it deep in the hearts of men and then nourish it and cultivate it with encouragement and teaching from the written word. Now after more than 35 years of work in south India there are thousands of small congregations working and growing and thriving. Most worship in small mud and mortar buildings with bamboo thatch roofs, but the body of Christ in India is spreading the message of the grace of Christ to their neighbors and growing in numbers daily.

In America today many Christians have there own version of “If you build it they will come mentality”.  Many modern churches seem to think that the Gospel message by itself has no power to draw modern Americans to it.  They see the skepticism and the growing animosity toward Christianity in America and they think that their neighbors simply will not be attracted to the message of the death and burial and resurrection of Christ, which is the core of the Gospel message. They are instead turning to human reasoning and ingenuity to, as it were, sweeten the message in order to make it more attractive to its carnal neighbors. Some have gone as far as deny the resurrection of Christ or deny the doctrine of propitiation all together in order to make Christ more palatable to the world.  American Christians have built huge brick and mortar temples as well believing that these great monuments to their own creativity will somehow impress and attract worldly men into coming into the borders of the kingdom. The hope is that once inside the buildings, and enjoying all the amenities that money can provide, they will be slowly converted and eased into the harness of the “yoke of Christ.”

We should take note of the lessons of European church history, home of many of these huge edifices that though are impressive to the human eye are virtually empty and are an albatross around the necks of men who though professing Christ have forgotten the simple Gospel foundation. They are now entrapped by the upkeep and expense of these huge cathedrals while the temples are dwindling empty of worshipers who have found the ritual worship oppressive and empty of meaning. As Christians have sought to be attractive to the American culture they find themselves at a crossroads. Do they truly believe in the power of the Gospel in its simplicity? Do they still believe that the message that lit a fire in the ancient world still has the power to light a fire in the modern world?

As the Pleasanton Church looks to the future and plans it’s modernization and future construction of facilities I hope it will never forgets its foundation.  John 12:32 “Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to me. This he said, signifying what death he should die.”

I pray we will never be so proud of our brick and mortar facilities that we forget to be “not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ for it is the power of Christ unto salvation for everyone that believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.” Romans 1:16.

Dominoes and Daring Do

I remember when I was a junior high school kid that from time to time my grandmother would receive a visitor at our old house in Pleasanton, Texas.  It was a sweet elderly lady that grandma Pearl would introduce as my great aunt Florence, Finley.  She was a sweet lady, her hair so white it seemed to have a bluish tint to it. I remember she and granny would sit and play dominoes and drink coffee for hours.  They would laugh and talk about the good old days of long ago and I would sit and listen a little while, but soon excuse myself to pursue a more entertaining past time.  On occasion I would try to play forty-two with these ladies but I was way to slow to keep up with the game.  These gals would throw down their dominoes so quickly that you would hear the plop plop plop of their dominoes and then a long pause, as I would be trying to figure my play.  I gave up soon and just preferred to sit on the sideline and watch the pros do it instead. 

I didn’t realize at the time or nearly appreciate the person that was there visiting in my home. I couldn’t appreciate what a wealth of historical and literary knowledge Mrs. Finley possessed. Granny told me she was an authoress and that she had written several books that talked about our ancestors but as a kid you just don’t value things as much as I now do.  Florence Finley was a W.P.A. writer.  She had been part of the W.P.A. Life Histories Project during the 1930s.  Congress in 1936 authorized writers from all over the country to find and interview the pioneers and early settlers of our country and get them to tell their experiences in their own words. My aunt Florence whose maiden name was Angermiller at the time was commissioned to be one of those writers.  She traveled a good bit of Texas in those days and literally sat on the porches and in the homes of some of the old timers of our state that were still alive in those days. She recorded their stories word for word as they sat and shared their recollections of the early pioneer days of Texas.  Those interviews are preserved in the Library of Congress to this day and are available on the web.  They are so interesting to read. Eventually aunt Florence compiled her works into several books that today are rare Texana collectables.  She is the author of Old Timers and Old Timers of Southwest Texas. She also is the Author of Heart Full of Horses a book that tells stories about the many wranglers and cowboys of early Texas. If it were not for her writing many of the stories from our ancestors would have been lost to posterity.

I post here a sample of her work, which was an interview with my Great Great Grandmother Emma Davenport. The interviews are too lengthy to be placed in a Blog post so I will instead give you the direct link to the W.P.A. Life Histories site that has them. I do not have permission from the Library of Congress to reproduce them.  The two interviews detail the life of Emma herself as she grew up in the Sabinal Canyon the daughter of Chris Kelly one of the old trail drivers who drove a herd to California in the middle of the great Gold rush of 1849. She tells of Indian depredations and horse thieving.  She tells of her trip to San Antonio in the 1870’s, an engagement party as she called it, before her wedding to John.

In the second interview Emma Davenport talks about her mother in law. Mary Davenport.  Florence Finley called her aunt Mary Davenport. Mary was the daughter of Captain John Crane an old boy hood friend of Andrew Jackson and veteran of the Creek Indian war, later a veteran of the Texas war for Independence. Her husband John Davenport was ambushed and scalped by Indians in 1859 just a few miles from Sabinal leaving Mary widowed with two sons.  The youngest of the two sons John Davenport jr. was later to become Emma’s husband. My great grandfather Rollie was one of their 10 children.

I hope you enjoy these interviews. Grab a cup of coffee or Tea and sit and read a history by a woman who lived it and told it in her own words. Click on this link: interviews and it will take you to the home page of American Life Histories home page. Look for the search by keywords link on the left of the page. Click on that and enter the word Davenport. The search results should give you both interviews at the top of the page. Click on their names and the interview manuscript should appear.

Raymond's Afternoon Nap

In my previous post Cowboy’s First Love I ended the article saying that it wasn’t the first time that the Davenport brothers found mustang horses to be their first priority even over a brother in need. They found themselves in such a dilemma one day when John and Emma Davenport were headed into town for supplies.  The trip into town was a 15-mile journey in a “hack” buggy, and so the folks would be gone most of the day.  John lined up the boys and told them sternly, “now boys while I’m gone you take care not to go near that corral and mess with those horses.  Your ma and me will be back soon so you take care and watch the youngsters.” Some of the young cousins were visiting that day so the oldest brother Raymond I’m sure was told to be in charge and watch the place.  Well with that the folks loaded up and began bouncing and rattling down the old road headed for Sabinal to do their business.  Now you know that the dust had hardly settled and the clanking of that old wagon was hardly out of ear shot when the boys looked one at the other and then looked at that corral of newly corralled mustangs and just couldn’t say no to powerful temptation.

Now guess who was the very first one to follow his heart instead of his brains. Yep you guessed it. It was Raymond leading the charge to the corral. The boys got the saddle and hackamore harness, opened the old gate and slowly worked their way around to the first good lookin piece of horseflesh that looked like he could make a good romp. Now Raymond was the very first one on the bronco. The brothers helping hold the rope tied to the hackamore to try to head the horse from running somewhat until Raymond could cinch the saddle and slowly mount the steed. When Raymond was settled in and had a good grip he gave a quick nod to the boys. The brothers held the rope and tried to stay free of the kicking and twisting. That old horse started bucking and spinning and after a minute cut crossways and made a dash.  The boys all set down on the rope to keep him from getting into the timber and when they did that horse hit the end of the rope and turned a complete somersault head over heals sending Raymond airborne right over his head coming down hard with a dull thud.  The boys I’m sure were hootin and hollering and screaming with delight watching big brother Raymond get thrown from that horse so quick. They walked over with jeers and guffaws expecting to hear him tell them to hush and see if they could do one better but to there surprise Raymond was not talking.  Raymond was knocked out cold. They patted his face and called his name even threw water on him trying to get him to stir but nothing doing Raymond was out. 

Now what to do? All of their attempts to revive him were met with no success he was totally out cold.  The folks were still gone to town and wouldn’t be back till hours and there weren’t nobody around so what would you do? Well they each grabbed a leg and half carried and half drug old brother Raymond to the bedroom of the house.  They tried again to revive him but no dice he was sleeping like an angel.  Well nothing to do but just let him sleep.  The boys went right on back to that corral and continued the rodeo. They kept breaking broncos right on through the afternoon until they figured the folks were about due.  Finally they saw the old hack bearing John and Emma Davenport coming down the road.  They all ran up to meet them and conspicuously there was one boy missing. Where’s Raymond says John.  The boys all just kinda stammered a bit and looked down and finally one of the boys says.  “Well papa we think maybe Raymond has expired.” “Expired! says Emma”, as the boys just point to the house. John looks over at the corral and knew exactly what had happened. They all hurried over to the bedroom and found Raymond still sleeping like a baby. You never seen such excitement, John had the boys hurry and hitch a fresh team to the hack and off he and Emma went with Raymond headed for town. Just as they got there Raymond finally wakes up and shows signs that he was still with the earthbound living instead of the angels.  The doctor wastn’t there.  They decided nothing to do but bring him home. Well history doesn’t record what old John told those boys when he got home that day but I have it on good authority that saddle leather wasn’t the only leather those boys felt on their posteriors that day.