This morning I was replying to my friend and thanking her for viewing and commenting on the photos of the buck in my previous post when I went on to expound on why we were out on an afternoon journey to an old country cemetery when we saw the deer to begin with. It dawned on me (and her) I was writing a blog post, so I’m copying, pasting and editing part of what I wrote to her this morning.
When Ed was a kid, there was a family of brothers and sisters living in the house just south of his home about a quarter of a mile down the road. They were still there, minus a few deceased ones, up until they moved from that old house to a small town a few miles west of here in about 1990, give or take a few years. Either Ed, his brother or sister-in-law went to their graveside services through the years, I was always working, but never thought much more about them until Ed was up towards the river a few weeks ago and spotted the cemetery where they were buried and drove in. He thought he remembered where to look, but he never could find graves. He and I went back the same afternoon with no luck either. Finally, I searched at findagrave.com and found where someone had taken a photo of one of their markers; turns out only one has a marker which leads back to the reason we went back yesterday. Now that we had seen a photo of the headstone, we knew what we were looking for and we finally found it. There is nothing else in place with the exception of one old metal funeral home marker that can no longer be read. To someone not knowing, it looks as if only the one with the marked grave is there at all.
Ed and his brother want to place headstones for the rest of the siblings and they are deciding what they want to do about that. The lady in charge of the cemetery right now says there is not a plat of any kind signifying where people are buried. We were shocked! So, she says just get close to the one in place and put markers where we want. Shocked about that too! This is an old cemetery way out in the country, but there are people still being buried there today, so it makes no sense at all that more detailed records have not been kept. She says people buy lots and place some sort of marker on them. Well, what keeps them from digging in on graves, such as the ones we are looking at, when they do not have markers? The answer to that is they do from time to time!
This family of two sisters and three brothers were very backward, very country, but also liked. They worked hard in the fields, cutting wood to make a living, mowing yards, etc., but all uneducated save for one. The younger sister could read.
One of the brothers, Delta “Red”, married and had a son, but the marriage didn’t last and he was soon back with the siblings never to raise or see his boy again. Ironically, his son is buried in the same cemetery, different location, but has a marker.
I believe the older sister wed at one time, but as I write this, I’m not certain, but I do know by the time I knew this family, she was living with her siblings. Fannie fell while making a trip to the outdoor toilet and broke her leg and it did not heal correctly. She ended up on a walker and had to live in the nursing home for a while, but was always anxious to come home. Those modern amenities meant nothing to her, home was always more appealing and she did rehabilitate enough to come back to her simple life.
Not one of them drove or ever owned a car to my knowledge, but there was always someone to take them to doctor’s visits or the grocery stores. Fannie became quite enamored with an older, single gentleman who was very good to all of them. She would manage to climb in his pickup and scoot right over in the middle of his seat and under his arm whenever the opportunity arose. Lawrence, the youngest brother, was usually the sibling accompanying them on these trips, so there was a valid reason for Fannie to sit in the middle, but there was really never a good reason for her to make every one of these trips Mr. Tudor would take them on. Especially when you consider she was crippled and it was difficult for her to get in and out, let alone walk once they arrived at their destination. It was a comical situation, but endearing as well.
There was also at least one other brother we know about. He left home at some point and lived in the Dallas area. I know no other details about him other than Lawrence would say he lived in Mud-creek, actually Mesquite, but with his way of speaking it sounded to us as if he was saying Mud-creek. Lawrence was one of the last breadwinners for the family since his health allowed him to push his lawnmower to our small community, mow yards all day and then push his lawnmower the 3 miles home. There’s no telling how many miles his old bones endured, but he was content, something we all strive for and he found in mowing lawns. I’m fairly certain as the older ones health declined, they drew Social Security or perhaps SSI checks, but again, I’m not sure of those details either.
One thing they all had in common was dipping snuff, and boy did they dip! Jaws full of the powdery goodness, running down their chins and more often than not finding its way to the bibs of the men’s overalls. The ladies were a bit cleaner with theirs, well at least they kept it off their dresses and they always wore dresses, easier to “make water” that way if you know what I mean.
Their home was stark, no furniture to speak of other than their iron beds and straight back wooden chairs, no rugs, no pictures nor anything adorning the walls other than calendars they never took down once they were hung. They had no running water or indoor facilities as I’ve already mentioned, in fact, I don’t remember ever seeing a washing machine of any sorts, so I suspect when their clothing was washed, it was with a rub board and a tub with water drawn from the old well. They were afraid of electricity and rarely turned on the lights. They did listen to the radio, but I think now it was battery powered. Their cooking and heat was furnished by wood stoves up until their move to town. Nellie, the sister that read, was the last one to die in 1999, so we are not talking about decades and decades ago.
Although their indoor furniture was lacking, the things given to them never made it inside. The TV’s and couch on the porch are testament to that fact.
My husband’s family and many in this area all have fond memories and fun stories to tell of these siblings. All agree they were odd, frozen in a long ago time, never to progress from the days of their youth when times were hard and money was scarce; a simple life was all they knew.
I sometimes think it was and could be a great way to live. We all get caught up in the bigger, better, faster state of mind and the Curry family certainly never knew anything of that. What they had though, was a love for each other and the joy of just being themselves, never trying to outdo anyone or to be ashamed of what little they did have.
I so wish now we had been more diligent in seeing about their graves many years ago, but, too late to think about that now as it can’t be undone. My husband and his brother will now see they won’t be forgotten.
The cemetery pictures are nothing special, but they do show a peaceful setting with lovely rolling hills behind it and to the west of it. There is also a lonely and certain simple quality of the final resting place for the brothers and sisters, but, I know they wouldn’t have it any other way.
