When I was about ten years old my mom and I made one of our usual trips to visit my grandmother; her mother. My grandma was in advanced age and widowed, and so she lived with my uncle and his wife and son. I looked forward to these trips, usually made by bus, earlier to Waxahatchie, Texas, then later to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where my uncle and aunt were joint pastors at a church they had founded. I enjoyed being with my mom's brother and family, and even more I enjoyed being with my grandma who would play board games with me, and tell me stories of her childhood and of her children. We sang hymns together, and we would sit on the patio for hours where she would talk about the birds, or she would teach me how to embroider and sew.
My uncle and aunt were fun to be with, as well, though I was just a bit shy of and intimidated by my aunt. She was 4' 10" of dynamite, talked fast, and was sharp tongued when she wasn't pleased. It was fascinating to watch her chew ice from her empty iced tea glass, which she did following every meal. She and my mom would sit and visit, and my aunt would chomp continually on ice until there was no more. I've never seen anyone chew so much ice at one time, and with such enjoyment. She also ate burnt, black toast, a delight that she shared with my grandma and even my own mother. This was appalling to me.
My uncle was great fun. He did shocking things at the dinner table to make me embarrassed and laugh, like use his tongue to flip his false teeth in and out of his mouth when no one but I was looking. My aunt would catch him eventually, but meanwhile I couldn't eat for laughing so hard.
It was a beautiful summer day in Tulsa, and my uncle had told at the dinner table the night before of a distant cousin of theirs who, along with their very large family of children, were living a few miles outside of Tulsa. They were a very poor family who had no place to live, so they had settled themselves in an old abandoned gas station. He asked if my mom would like to visit them, and, of course, she wanted very much to see them again. I'm sure she hadn't a clue what to expect.
The next morning we all, except my grandma, prepared for the short trip; I venture to say it was about twenty-five or thirty miles out of town. We arrived there within an hour, I am sure. My uncle pulled his car into the front of an old, dilapidated and dirty looking gas station. When we got out of the car the first thing I remember was the smell, like a filthy barnyard. I had been on farms enough to know the difference between a dirty and a well-kept barn yard. There was also the stench of old. standing water. Immediately children came running from every direction, some in diapers and hardly walking, and some were teens. All of them were barely, or poorly dressed, and none wore shoes.
The adults were greeted by the mom and dad of these poor children, and they also wore no shoes and were very poorly dressed. The woman wore a half apron, and I can't imagine why. The man wore overalls with no shirt. They were not clean. They hadn't known we were coming, and they weren't a bit embarrassed. They were happy to see us.
The smell intensified as we entered the open doors of the station, and as soon as we entered we knew why. Chickens, ducks, goats and a cow ran free throughout the living area which was very small. I haven't a clue how these people were able to purchase these animals, and I'm not sure I want to know. But, the chickens gave them eggs, the cow and goats gave them milk, and I imagine some were butchered and eaten at some point. There were a couple of old straight wooden chairs, as I recall, and there were dirty, brown mattresses here and there on the floor. I don't remember if there was a table. I don't think there was more than one room. But I do remember there was no glass in the windows, there was no door to shut out the weather, and there was dirt and filth everywhere. And, they all seemed to be very happy, though I have to believe that there was some shame in what we were witnessing.
We left after a few minutes visit, my uncle promising to visit again soon, and my mom went around and hugged every single child, along with the dad and especially the mom. My mom had had a hard life, but she hurt deeply for the harsh life this family lived.
In the car there was a sad discussion of what we had witnessed. My mom quietly shed some tears. My uncle said that he visited them, and he would always give the dad a little money to help them out, but the dad wouldn't allow my uncle to give him much. He said that they did just fine, and with just a little extra they would be well enough off. It was pitiful, and I remember how I realized that fact, even at my young age.
Mom and I never went to visit them again when we were in Tulsa. I know my uncle visited and helped, but the opportunity never came up again for us. I don't know how long the family lived in that old gas station. Today, the family would be arrested and their children removed from their custody. I hope that these poor relatives of ours were left alone, unmolested by the government and busy-body authorities who think their ways are better. I doubt that the children attended much school. I wonder about them sometimes, how they fared, if they had better days ahead, if they made something of themselves. I wonder how many of them are still alive. After all, they were all around my age, and you never know what will happen in a lifetime. One thing is for sure. My mom and I thought we were poor. My mom knew that she had lived a very tough life. But we both realized that there is always someone worse off than you. It was very sobering for me at the time to know that they were related to us.
