Jacksonville, Texas

Jacksonville (population 14,544) sits about 30 miles south of Tyler in East Texas and is surrounded by lush green forests nestled atop rolling hills. Some might find that strange because when I’ve spoken to people who don’t live here and I tell them I’m from Texas, their first comment is, “It’s so flat there.” What they don’t understand is that Texas has a diverse landscape and Jacksonville is one of those places that proves it.

Jacksonville was founded as a result of an Indian massacre. On October 5, 1838, the Killough family migrated to the area from Alabama and was attacked by a group of Cherokee Indians while preparing the land for harvest and building their homes. In total, eighteen were either killed or taken as captives. The few family members who managed to escape walked over 40 miles south, ending up in Alto, Texas and those who were taken as captives were never heard from or ever seen again. General Thomas Rusk brought the Texas Army to the area to search for those who committed the murders and one of his soldiers, Jackson Smith, while scouting along Gum Creek,  found a spot that was so beautiful he vowed to return and make his future home there. He did so nine years later.

 Jacksonville is a city with an exciting and unique history. Its story goes back to 1838, the year of the Killough Massacre, East Texas' worst Indian atrocity. The site of the massacre was about seven miles north of the current location. Eighteen settlers, including women and children, either were killed or carried away, never to be heard from again.

General Thomas J. Rusk brought the Texas Army into this area to search for the renegades who had committed the murders. One of his soldiers, Kentucky native Jackson Smith, was scouting along Gum Creek when he found a spot so beautiful that he vowed to return and make his home there. Nine years later, he did.

Jackson Smith built a house and blacksmith shop along the east bank of of the creek in 1847, setting up a post office at one end of the shop which took the name Gum Creek, after the little community that had grown up there since 1838. Soon after Smith built his shop, Dr. William Jackson built an office next to it. When Smith had a townsite and square surveyed near his home in 1850, Jacksonville, named after the two men, was born, officially replacing the community of Gum Creek in June of that year.

In 1872, the International-Great Northern Railroad was built through Cherokee County, missing Jacksonville by about two miles. Jacksonville inhabitants, aware that the railroad was crucial to the survival of the town, worked out an agreement with railroad officials to survey a new township along the railroad. In the fall of 1872, most of the original Jacksonville was moved the two miles east to its new location.

Within ten years, agriculture became the main focus of the local economy. Jacksonville was a leading center for peach production from the 1880s to 1914; thereafter, tomatoes became the primary crop until the 1950s. During this time, Jacksonville earned the title "Tomato Capital of the World." Livestock has always been -- and to a certain extent still is -- an important part of the economy as well. The production of plastics and polymers led industry from the 1980s through the '90s.

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In 1945, when I was 4 years old my parents saved enough money to pay cash for a small frame house on the corner of Sunset Avenue and Pineda Street, which was my home until I was 17, graduated from Jacksonville High School and went away to college.  Some of the old photographs in this slide show I believe to be prior to 1945, but many were taken during the time that I grew up there.

Words

      
This photograph from Town Square in Sugar Land, TX is the word "Hope" engraved into the granite surrounding a fountain containing a bronze of Steven F. Austin on his horse whose name was Hope.  It is a good name.  It is a powerful word.


When I write, I roll a word around in my mind as if I am tasting it. Reading a word, speaking a word, hearing a word, or writing a word can be as breathtaking as holding a lovely piece of glass to the light. I fell in love with poetry because I love tasting the words and looking at them through the light.

 I delighted in my baby's first word. The first word a child reads for himself brings a sense of accomplishment for him and encouragement from others. Of course, we find meaning as we begin to string words together in thoughts and sentences, and the words used in the craft of story telling are amazing tools, but a single word when considered alone can be a source of amazement.

My English teacher in high school loved the word “murmur.” A musical friend's favorite is “alleluia.” Author and world traveler Francis Mayes says that two of her favorite words are linked together: “departure” and “time”. Poet Molly Peacock says she first fell in love with the word “joy” because ithad a circle inside! I love the word "lullaby."  At the beginning of each year, I like to choose a word for that year's focus.  My word for 2014 is "Release."

  

Returned Mail.

I am updating my file for addresses which I use each year when I address Christmas cards.  This year I had several cards returned stamped  "No Forwarding Address" , but one of them came from an address that made me look online for further information.  There I found confirmation of my sad suspicion for the reason Charlotte and Paul were no longer living in their lovely home. Charlotte died last March.  My husband's elderly cousin, Paul, and his wife, Charlotte, lived many years in Water Valley, MS, where we visited them in 1998.   They were most gracious hosts and we loved hearing Paul's family stories.  At that time he was in his mid eighties, and still going in to his office every day. We enjoyed a delicious lunch of chicken salad and tomato aspic and talked about the fact that in a few weeks, another couple with their names would be married: our son whose middle name is Paul and his fiance, Charlotte. They were delighted and upon discovering that Charlotte's little daughter from a previous marriage was also joining our family, Charlotte asked what grandmother name I would be called.  When I replied that at the present I was simply called by my given name, Mary Ann, she exclaimed, "Oh, no, that will never do. She needs a special name for you."  Then she told me her friend's name is Mary, and that her grandchildren call her Granmary.  That is how I came to have a name I now love.  Four beautiful granddaughters call me Granmary, and soon there will be a 5th little girl to call me that.  I have that charming Charlotte to thank for this pleasure!

 She was a true Steel Magnolia - a wife, mother, and quintessential southern lady who graduated from the University of Mississippi with a degree in education, taught and coached girls' basketball. After she married Paul, she managed his store during his military tour of duty. Charlotte, I salute you. And I don't need your forwarding address. I know where you are.

After Christmas Surprise!

I have always been slow to pack away the Christmas decorations for our home.  While I drive down the street and see some trees already stripped and hauled out for pickup a day or two after Christmas, and know that many people like to pack away decorations after the first day of the new year, I am known for lingering over the task.  It is not all because I move a little slower these days.  I simply enjoy savoring the last drop of twinkle lights and tinsel, and choose many years to leave out a manger scene for awhile.  This past week, as I stood in front of our mantle deciding whether to put our largest manger scene back in its box, I started laughing when I saw that Joseph had an extra staff!  I knew right away that Maddie had left me another surprise to find after she went back home. At 7, she delights in tucking a bow here, a flower there, and I delight in discovery!

Thank you, Maddie!

Beginning Again: for Nora

Beginning Again:   For Nora

2014:  The year of Nora!  In about 3 months, I will hold a new grandchild in my arms.  This baby will be our 4th birth grandchild, but the first baby for our youngest son and his wife of 5 years. I find myself more excited every day. Just as I did for our other granddaughters, I began a letter, or journal, for her as soon as her conception was announced.  This letter tells of our joy as we wait for her arrival, and chronicles family events as well as talking about how we look forward to sharing our family journey with her.  The difference in Nora's letter and ones I previously wrote is that this letter is in the form of a password protected blog!  The following excerpt is posted there on October 1, 2013, so this is written to Nora.

I have begun a knitting project, or shall I say begun to finish one I started over 40 years ago!  When I was pregnant with our first son, I finished a lovely cream colored knitted shawl in which we wrapped him for his trip home from the hospital.  Each of his two younger brothers also came home wrapped in the shawl, as have each of their daughters now.  When I knew our 2nd son was coming, I started something that would be “his” by knitting some wide lace intended to grace a receiving blanket. I was so busy taking care of a toddler and getting ready for another baby, the project was laid aside.    When Ben, your Daddy,  was on the way, I picked up the lace again and completed another 8 or 10  inches.  Now that we celebrate your approaching birth,  I have once again begun to knit on the lace.  It isn’t easy getting started and striking my stride on a project that old, plus I had to order some yarn that is as close to the original as possible.  I hope I successfully complete it this time.  Arthritic fingers don’t knit as nimbly!  I am keeping my eyes glued to the pattern and the knitting!

In the Bible, in Psalms, there are verses that talk about how well God knows you because He knit you together in your mother’s womb.  God knows you completely and best.  He loves you completely and best. He gave you to us to help us understand His love.  We are so blessed!

I pray for your growing strong and healthy in your body, but most of all I pray that you will love God and know that you belong to Him and that he loves you even more than I do.  Every day I pray for your Mother and Daddy and you.  Your family.

There is no question that I failed to knit lace for a blanket for son number two.  There is no question that I failed to provide Nora's Daddy with a blanket with lace knitted just for him.  But by beginning again, long ago failure has turned into the dearest project I have ever worked on.  I am not yet finished.  Unknitting?  Oh my, yes.  I don't knit the same way I did 40 years ago. That was discouraging.  The tension is much looser.  Unknit.  I dropped down a needle size.  Unknit.  Matching yarn was difficult. It won't look exactly the same as the first yard, no matter what I do. But it will be an example of things worth keeping and determination and new beginnings.  For Nora.

Celebration

Our sons and their wives gathered family and friends for a lovely celebration of our 50th wedding anniversary. We loved every minute of an evening full of hugs, fond memories, photographs from 50 years of adventure, good food, and gratitude overflowing.  Our friend Aija played violin music and our son Ben quoted this favorite Shakespeare sonnet.  We have so many reminders that we are surrounded by love!

 Sonnet 116           William Shakespeare


Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

     If this be error and upon me proved,

     I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

We Did Then, We Do Now

Old Roses

in the beginning your bouquets

came swathed in green tissue

long stemmed roses, crimson red

“I love you” in your neat writing

on the card tucked into green leaves

their beauty made me smile

they had no perfume

soon wilted and shattered

I kept the petals in a jar

one day we were charmed

by a found rose

one labeled antique

new leaves, old roots

the kind discovered

on old tumbling walls

where a house once stood

or an ancient cemetery fence

Sombreuil climbed high

on our red brick wall

snowy tissue petals

fragrance so sweet

that said “breathe”

roots tracing history

Maggie, known for fragrance

Mutabulis, for changing colors

Souvenir de la Malmaison flowered

over and over again

there have been others

all old-fashioned, graceful

strong, eager, determined to thrive

resisting decline

roses graced our table

dried into pot pourri

found their way into the kitchen

floating in rosy vinegar

how many roses have you brought

to me with morning coffee?

I carried a jar of roses and herbs

to your hospital room

Remember holding grandbabies

with a rose for them to smell?

Picture all the tiny tussie mussies

delivered in little girl hands.

we sit holding hands in the arbor

by the fish pond curtained

with clusters of pink roses

the rose named survivor,

alone growing again after

hurricane flood waters

we are survivors

our love a rooted rose

thriving against all odds

growing past calamity

winds of change, fear

pain, onslaught of time

blooming over and over

no need for fussy tending

resistant to failure

giving joy beyond ourselves

creating new life from roots

continuing our love story

old roses, deep roots

written for Joe, in our 50^th year of blooming.