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 Calumet 45, Tri-X 320 We lost my Uncle Orval several years ago to emphysema. He lived in what used to be my great grandmother, Mama Bates' house. Orval Bates was a true cowboy, riding the range, herding cattle, all that stuff. He was also a pioneer and breeder of the Catahoula Leopard Cowdog (scroll to the second pic on that page to see his price list, c. 1952, when his phone number was four digits). Aunt Georgia is now the 'caretaker' of the land, choosing to let it sit unattended to. We went by two weeks ago to find the yard overrun with tall grass and weeds (up to my chest in places, and I'm 6'1'). The house used to be full of all sorts of junk, empty coke bottles piled up waiting to be cashed in, newspapers and farmer's catalogs, with hardly a place to sit. The house was completely empty save for one coffe cup and saucer. A steel pole was installed in the front room to help him get up and down and that was there too. Seeing the place bare, it was easier to remember many nights spent in that house, and a Christmas vacation spent there, probably '77 or '78. I'm not entirely sure where my mind is going with this. Ultimately, I didn't really know him that well but I know I loved him dearly. I loved to sit and listen to him talk about damn near anything. Dogs, trouble with the hired hands, special chemicals in the cow feed that kept them from growing 'those funny mushrooms', anything. He always had a cheery 'hello' and a firm hug. As much as I loved him, I didn't go to his funeral and I'm pissed at myself for that. Things were busy at work, and I was obviously very confused and a bastard. I try to live without regret, but some things will always haunt my memories, and that's one of them. I guess I can only try my damndest to not let it happen again.  | |
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Posted by r2blue Archived under: Calumet45, Black and White, Places |
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