The older I get, the more relationships mean to me. In fact they define me. The third time I battled cancer (and won!), I realized that what was important to me could be summed up in a word: RELATIONSHIPS. First, my relationship with my Heavenly Father, who is always by my side; second, my relationship with family and friends.
I have been blessed with a host of friends of every age, color, economic level, educational level and everyone in between. I keep up with as many as possible but some have dropped by the side in the busyiness of life. Recently I have been making a conscious effort to reconnect with some who were important to me and I'd lost touch with.
Last fall, I called a life-long friend of mine, Joan, and suggested that right after Christmas we take a road trip through central Texas. I had a host of people I wanted to re-connect with, plus I wanted us to go back to our roots together. You see not only have Joan and I known each other literally all of our lives (we are 12 days apart and she will frequently tell people I am the older one), but our mothers were very close friends as were our grandmothers and great-grandmothers. They all grew up in a (very) small farming community, 54 miles south of San Antonio (on the Corpus highway)-Karnes City. Those descriptions were what we grew up with. It was not about 55 miles south, it was 54 miles. And if you gave them a puzzled look as to where it was, the descripter "on the Corpus highway" almost always turned on a lightbulb of recognition.
Our Moms acting goofy, as always, in a school picture: Sara (my Mom) is on the left, Fran (Joan's Mom) is on the right. circa 1936
Our Mom's could really act the fools. As youngsters, Joan and I would get so embarrassed when our Mother's would loudly start laughing and carrying on in a public place. We would just look at each other, wishing we could get away with crawling under the table. They would laugh 'til they cried, ice tea coming out of their noses, and the more horrifyed we got, the funnier they thought it was. Oh goodness how we wish we could join in with them today.
Mother, Jack Crews, best man (Fran's brother), Paul and Fran Hanson.
Fran and Paul got married first, September 4, 1947. Mother, who had a beautiful soprano voice, sang at their wedding--I Love You Truly.
And almost exactly a year later, September 5, 1948, my parents, Sara and J.T. Rutherford, got married. Unfortuntately, Fran and Paul were in school and couldn't afford the gas to drive from their home in Dallas to Karnes City (and we think our economy is bad) but I'm sure the girls talked often and long.
Around Christmas time, 1948, Mother and Fran got together in Karnes City, both eager to share their good news. We understand the conversation went something like this:
I have some exciting news to tells you.
Well I have some exciting news to tell you.
You go first.
No, you go first.
Ok, well let's tell each other at the same time.
I'm pregnant!
Stay tuned.....
Love the story. It seems the older we get, the more important those roots become.
ReplyDeleteSome of us don't have roots like we wish we had. Our families moved too much, we did not stay in touch, the regular stuff.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy those stores so much, Ann.