

## JUST A PASSING

THROUGH

# JUST A PASSING

THROUGH

## THOMAS EDISON

## TIPPENS, JR.
Just a Passing Through  
The Life of T. E. Tippens, Jr.

Copyright 2008 Thomas Edison Tippens, Jr.  
ISBN 978-0-89112-563-1

Printed in the United States of America  
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written consent.

Cover Design by Rick Gibson

Interior Text Design by Sandy Armstrong

For information contact:

Tippens Family

1901 Manchester Ave

Edmond, OK 73034
PREFACE

I have written this small book to portray the life of a farm boy growing up in a western Oklahoma rural community. The events and stories recorded here are the ones I observed or were related to me by my grandparents, family, and friends. The episodes begin at my birth and follow with my very early life, my grade school, high school, and college days. I conclude with thoughts on teaching and raising a family. These times include living through the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl days, and the transition from the horse-and-buggy days into today's modern agriculture.

Before these times were the horrible Civil War years and the events of the 19th and early 20th centuries as told to me by my grandfather, Stonewall Jackson Tippens and verified by Great Uncle Will Tippens. The beginning of what is now known as the Tippens Ranch properties began in 1898 near Panther Creek in western Custer County, Oklahoma.

As you read this account, you might at some point laugh out loud, but then you might want to wipe away a tear or two. The stories are real—without any fiction or fancy words—but the plot is loaded with just plain simple happenings. The only source of reference while writing this book was my memory bank and the Holy Bible.

Thomas Edison Tippens, Jr. November 30, 2007
DEDICATION

I wish to dedicate this story to the loving memory of my wife Patsy J. Tippens

And to my children

Terry, Darryl, Kathy, Tom, Doug, and Joe

I also wish to salute our pioneer forefathers  
The Stonewall Jackson Tippens family  
The Ben Smith family  
The Lucien V. Rector family  
The Joseph Calvin Morgan family
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 My First Years (1925-27) 11

Chapter 2 Life in Gracemont (1927-37) 13

Chapter 3 Life in Hammon to Graduation

(1938-44) 21

Chapter 4 Off to College and the War Years

(1944-46) 27

Chapter 5 Back to College (1946-49) 37

Chapter 6 Early Career in Colony (1949-51) 41

Chapter 7 Weatherford—Home for 30 Years

(1951-81) 47

Chapter 8 Reflections on the Beginnings 61

Chapter 9 Remember the Time 71

Chapter 10 The Duffy-Rector Clan 75

Chapter 11 Accidents and Incidents 83

Chapter 12 How to Join the Balloon Club 87

Chapter 13 Lifestyle and Politics 91

Chapter 14 What Is Agriculture? 95

Chapter 15 Heat and Droughts 103

Chapter 16 Tragedy and Deaths 105

Chapter 17 Vacations and Excursions 107

Conclusion 111
CHAPTER 1

MY FIRST YEARS

### (1925-1927)

There have been times this past year when telling story,

pertaining to or about times past, that I have been asked  
this question: Why don't you write that down? I will attempt to do this, knowing that I am not an author, writer, or an English major. I hope these writings will not be too self-centered or boring and that others might be rewarded and honored by reading them.

There is a time in our lives when we should reflect on our past and honor those of so long ago. To honor others should give us some good memories and maybe bring some small measure of redemption.

What about the past? What about our future? What is life? James asks the question and then answers it: "Life is like a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away" (4:14). It's amazing how quickly time passes. 'The older you become, the quicker the time accelerates. I was born on February 12, 1925, the only son of Thomas Edison and Janetta Ruth Rector Tippens. My name was also my father's, so I have been called Junior, Edison, Ed, Tom Ed, and a few others.

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12 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 I began my life in the small village of Herring in Roger Mills County, Oklahoma. My life started in a house next to the Herring School, where both of my parents were teachers. Herring is located about eight miles southwest of Hammon, near the Washita River, and is named after the Herring Ranch and family.

The Yearling. Thomas Edison Tippens, Jr. at age 1.

At one time there were over one hundred schools in Roger Mills County. My parents were teachers in three of these, which were three Corners, Herring, and Midway. While at Midway, just north of Reydon, my parents heard of a school in Gracemont, Caddo County that needed a superintendent and a coach. This opening for a position in Gracemont came in 1927. Midway would be the last school in Roger Mills County where my parents taught.
CHAPTER 2

LIFE IN GRACEMONT

### (1927-1937)

This Caddo County School was in Gracemont, a small town of

about 450 people. My father accepted the job, which meant  
he would teach classes, coach the boy's basketball team, as well as be the superintendent. This job lasted for nine years.

During this time we experienced really tough times— drought, the Dust Bowl, and a horrible Depression. The "warrants" teachers received—"promissory notes" from a school district that had no funds to pay teachers' salaries—were not valid until money became available.

We lived on Downing Street, and my first recollection of life happened here when I ran off from home, got lost, and then lost a shoe. I got an "attitude adjustment" and behavior correction at the age of two and a half. I still need adjustments eighty years later.

When 1930 arrived there were better times because I was selected to lead the girls' pep club at a ripe age of five. From a catalog Mom ordered a big "G" which was to be sewn onto my

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14 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 sweater. The "G" finally came in the mail, and I got it sewn on just in time for the first basketball game. I led the girls around the entire court as their mascot. What a big shot to be so small! I began shooting the basketball at this age, even though it was difficult to pull the ball between my legs and reach the goal.

In 1929 we moved to our new white frame house next to the school. This was a time of learning many things not to do. After learning not to run away from home, the next inappropriate thing I did was to play in a huge pasteboard box in the middle of the street. This was not so good an idea and a "busting" ensued. While in the fourth grade, my teacher, Miss Glidewell, used the paddle on me for running in her room during lunch hour. Needless to say, that didn't sit well with Glidewell. I should have glided elsewhere. That's not all the trouble that I was into. In the 5th grade my teacher, Mrs. Feaster, who married Dad's super basketball player, gave me a good paddling for playing marbles for keeps. I am confident that the superintendent (Dad) conspired with the teacher to let me have that board of correction.

My parents, thinking that musical culture should be a part of my upbringing, went to the trouble to send me to Miss Popejoy, a well-known musical figure in the state. I started on a trumpet. Later Miss Popejoy thought that I should be a singer. The teacher had me sing "Red Sails in the Sunset." Neither the horn nor the singing lessons became a success. No "vaccinations" took in this field.

Though Gracemont is about a hundred miles away, we never got too far from the farms of my grandparents near Hammon. In fact, we spent every summer on the family farms during the Gracemont years. We were immediately on the scene on
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 15

 the morning of April 4th, 1934, when the news of one of the most devastating floods in Oklahoma history came to us. We learned that Uncle Leo, Aunt Mabel, and Cousin Lorene were missing. Local neighbors knew that my cousins Floyd and Woodrow were hanging in a large cottonwood tree. My cousin Elvin, just sixteen years old, made it to the neighbors to get a horse with the intention to come back and save his folks; but the water was too swift, and he was unable to save them. The body of Lorene was found less than one mile from the family home. Aunt Mabel was found near Stafford. About eleven days later—after the water had receded—the body of Uncle Leo was found below the Phillips Bridge in Custer County. He was buried in mud, but a small piece of his shirt was visible, which allowed recovery.

Because of the loss of lives (seventeen in all) and the massive destruction, I thought that a historical marker should be erected to remember the victims; so I ordered the stone monument to commemorate this great tragedy. The monument was erected in the town center of Hammon, Oklahoma, on May 26, 2007.

By the time 1941 came we had lived through and survived the Depression, which lasted until the Pearl Harbor attack. The Depression that was so severe even teachers' warrants were not valid because money was not available. There was a store in Anadarko, Youngheims Department Store, that would take my father's warrant if he would buy shoes or clothes for the family. (The storeowner would eventually get his money from the warrants he accepted when funds did become available.) To make a little cash, I delivered milk to Walt and Theda Luchau
16 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 in Gracemont. (Later, Walt would live just three blocks from our home in Weatherford.)

In '35 I saved enough cash to purchase Jenny Sue for $7.50. Jenny Sue was a larger donkey than average and could be ridden because she was gentle and did not bite or kick. I obtained a single tree, borrowed a collar, and mounted the single tree to the front of my little red wagon. I got in the wagon and rode the seven miles from the Grandpa Tippens' farm to Grandpa Rector's farm, dirt roads all the way. During the summer of '35 Jim Hall, a large horse breeder who lived northwest of Hammon, came with a stallion to breed two mares of Grandpa Rector's at a cost of $10 per mare. While on the place he spotted Jenny Sue, noted her size, and quickly wanted to know if he could buy Jenny Sue. Why would Jim Hall want my Jenny Sue? Jim explained he needed a Jack so that he could raise mules. The only way to get a Jack was to have a true Jenny to breed. Jenny Sue was a true Jenny and fit the bill. I was somewhat reluctant to sell her, but $20 looked good since Jenny had only cost me $7.50.

The next day when all of us gathered around the large dining table, I noticed all of our plates were turned upside down, which was out of the ordinary. The order was given by Grandpa Rector to turn our plates over. When my plate was turned, there were twenty silver dollars in a big pile. What a sight for a ten year old! I did not know I was to be paid, but I did OK on the sale.

Quite a few interesting events happened in '35 and '36. Dad purchased a 1936 model V8 Ford in '35; and we learned that Billy Cordsen, who was living over in the mountains of Arkansas, had inherited the west half of Section 22-13-20. (This is the farm I
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 17

 now live on.) The Ford had a radio and a heater, and was real classy for the time. Dad's plan was to drive over to Arkansas and see if he could trade the Ford V8 on this farm. Dad drove into Billy Cordsen's yard, turned the radio on, and before the day was over the land purchase was consummated. The deal was $3,500 for the half section, with the auto counting as a $1,000 down payment, leaving a balance of $2,500. Little did I know about the work that would be required for the next six years to pay for this farm? The biggest field, 93 acres, seemed like forever to get plowed with horses and a five-foot one way. We had no tractor. In 1937 my father purchased a 1937 John Deere tractor. We lived in Gracemont and Chickasha until 1938, but we stayed connected to Hammon for agriculture.

It was difficult, but we were able to get this place paid for by going the sheep route. There was a place south of Carter, in Beckham County, that sold us 150 ewes (western Rambouillet breed) that cost $3 each. In the first year, 1940, we clipped enough wool to pay for their keep. Harry Payne and his brothers could clip thirty-five head per day by hand. Don't ever try this kind of labor as it is the hardest work known, and few can do it. You wrestle the ewe sitting her on her butt, and you do the clipping while holding her still.

What about lambing these ewes? We would get up at 5:00 in the morning when it was still dark and go by flashlight to check lambing. The lambing pens were 6'x 6'. Matching up lambs with mamas became impossible at times because the mamas didn't always claim their own. After sheep chores came milking, after milking came feeding the beef herd, and by the time these chores were done, it was good to have breakfast. My mom and my sisters, Ila and Mayola, let us know that we were
18 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 bringing sheep and cattle smell into the house every time. The good thing about all this was that the sheep alone (the lambs sold for $14 each) paid off the $2,500 balance on the land.

Edison, Jr., with pet dog. Gracemont. 1935.

The time came to move on from Gracemont to Meridian, which was six miles northwest of Chickasha in Grady County. This was only a one-year stay and not too eventful. My parents again sent me to Chickasha to take trumpet lessons from the band director. It was another disaster that didn't last long. My 4-H project was more interesting and successful and
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 19

 included raising Plymouth Partridge chickens that are a Mediterranean breed.

Another disaster happened while in Meridian. I was playing junior high football when my left arm and wrist came apart with every tendon strained. The doctor in Chickasha said the arm should have broken. The arm was placed in a cast for six weeks and the doctor said my bones were so strong that I might get by without ever breaking any bones. Now seventy years later, no bones have been broken. Was this luck or strength of bones? It doesn't matter. I'm intact.

My schooling in the seventh grade in Meridian was difficult for me, and my grades were nothing to brag about. Since I was only twelve years and there were some family problems, which could have been the reason. We had a maid named Mavis who wasn't all that pleasant either, and Mom caught undulant fever (brucellosis) from the cow we had kept in Gracemont. For those who do not understand this malady, cows can transmit brucellosis to humans.

We didn't stay in Meridian long because we were really not too happy with the school, the area, or the distance from the newly purchased farm at Hammon.
CHAPTER 3

LIFE IN HAMMON TO GRADUATION

### (1938-1944)

After the experience in Grady County it was back to good ol' Hammon where we moved into a small frame house about two blocks south of the school. I did not go to the Hammon School that first year because Dad had accepted the coaching and teaching job at Pie Flat—a small country school southeast of town. We often walked the four miles to Pie Flat from our house in Hammon. I was in the 8th grade at this time, and my classmates were all local farm kids, like the Allens, the Clifts, the Longs, the Sextons, and, of course, cousins like Floyd Bush. (At that time the W. R. Tippens cousins were in Texas.)

That year Pie Flat basketball team won the district and regional tournaments and went to state. Floyd Bush was a guard on the team. When it came spring, there was a battle in my eighth grade class for valedictorian between Lavina Clift and Helen Sexton. In the end Jim Joe Clift's sister, Lavina, won by a hair; but the loser, Helen Sexton, was so irate that she refused to give the salutatorian speech. So guess what? Ed Jr. was third in the contest and was asked to give the salutatorian address. My eighth grade turned out much better than

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 the seventh. In fact, I was selected to go to the Custer County interscholastic to compete in spelling. I had to compete against all the kids from the big schools; and being from little Pie Flat, I didn't think there was a chance that I would have any success competing with the big schools. The teacher stood up in front and announced to contestants twenty-five spelling words. She came to the word financier. I had no clue as to what it was because it didn't sound like it came from finance. I didn't connect, so missed it, but it was the only one I missed out of the twenty-five. I received a very small blue ribbon, which I kept for many years. I have often bragged about this, which I shouldn't, I know, but am reminded of what Dizzy Dean said, "It ain't braggin' if you can do it. . . . and furthermore those English teachers who criticize me for my language, ain't makin' what I am makin'."

School was over and farming chores were ahead. We were waiting until Cap and Ida Dunlap moved, so we could move into their house down the hill from Grandpa's. This is the house with the windmill in the road right of way. Cap and Ida were going under, losing the place, but their place fit in nicely with the Cordsen half section. We lived there for several months until Grandma Nettie asked Uncle Riley (W. R.) and family to come back home from Friona, Texas. Because of her diabetes, Nettie knew her days were limited. My family gave up the place so that W. R.'s family could return. There was another house about two miles farther east that Dad purchased and moved it to its present location. Oscar Powers helped with concrete work and also plastered the cistern. It is the house where we lived when I finished high school in Hammon. I purchased the Powers place in 2006 and so have known the Powers family for 67 years.
 T. E. Tippens, Jr. 23

Hammon Basketball Team, 1942. T. E. Tippens, Jr., No. 33 (middle row, far right behind Coach Nelson). Tice Jones (No. 77) and Kenneth Isles (No. 99) were both killed in WW II. Every player served in WW II.
24 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 We began the spring farming in 1937 and began converting over to tractors from horses. I had started out harrowing cotton with two horses hooked up to a two-section harrow with two 1x12 planks six feet long laid and wired on top of the harrows. I stood on the two planks and remember harrowing the east branch 14-13-20 where alfalfa is growing today. You can imagine what my face looked like being covered with red dirt. Grandpa bragged when I came in about "making a hand." That must have hooked me to that way of life, for I have an affinity, even today, for that red soil.

It was time to switch over to a tractor. Ben Cole asked us to come up to his place as he had taken on a John Deere dealership and had an A model tractor for us to look at. Since I was twelve and had ridden more horses than tractors, it was new to say the least. Dad bought it and put me on it at age twelve and told me to drive it to Grandpa's home place. They explained how to stop it by pulling back on the hand clutch. I drove it the seven and one-half miles. Seventy years later I am still driving tractors, most of the time upright, but on two occasions the tractors were turned on their sides.

The first time I turned a tractor over occurred when I was building the small dam that is still there just south of our existing house. In 1942, while using a tricycle G John Deere and a small box blade, I was unable to keep the top wide enough; so the tractor rolled over on its left side in very loose soil. This was another of those many things not to do. My neighbor, Clarence Hayden, who was one-half mile south, came and pulled me upright.

While on the subject of "things not to do"... at about this time when I was barely sixteen, a Beutler Brothers two-thousand
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 25

 pound bull came from the west pasture to our lot because we had a cow in heat. I decided to lot the bull (bad idea). I threw a few rocks at the bull (which was a bad move). I got the cow out of lot and the bull inside the lot for a minute. The bull, mad at me and in love with the cow, decided to take its vengeance out on me. Just as I was closing the wooden five-board gate, here he came charging me. He missed me by a good two inches, but he hit the gate, and it exploded into a hundred pieces. At this point I decided the bull could own the cow . . . and the entire ranch.

The farm chores were somewhat of a burden as I mentioned earlier, but my school days at Hammon High were really good with many good friends and interesting events. I'm a little hesitant to mention the good times with girls, but will any way because its hard to forget gals such as June, Marie, Donna, and of course long-time friend, lover, and wife of sixty-one-plus years, Patsy J. The guys such as Wayne, Joe W., Nilwon, Tice, and Riley W. were all close friends.

The war was imminent. Pearl Harbor was behind us; and as 1942 came to a close our class became very close. On graduation day we made a pact that our class would remain close and in contact with each other. We have done just that by having reunions periodically, one of which was the fifty-year get-together in Estes Pack, Colorado. Several years ago we decided to place a wreath at the funeral of any of our fallen classmates. We have done that through the years with a banner attached to the wreath which reads "Class of ' 42 – Hammon High," and we will continue this until the last one falls. I will take credit for this tradition.

Before moving on to other topics I would not want to forget the people who influenced my life: Albert and Elmer Stinson,
26 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 W. A. Lewter, and Floyd Burk. Albert Stinson helped Hammon schools in many ways, even with increased enrollment; and he sent Dale Long and me to the Oklahoma Junior Legislature in Oklahoma City, where we met and authored bills that we thought needed to be passed. Both W. A. Lewter and Floyd Burk wrote excellent letters of recommendation for me.

In 1941 the preacher Joe Laird came to the Hammon Church of Christ to hold a meeting in which classmate Orville Thorp and I were baptized. It was a decision time regarding education too—the question being whether to buy the Bernard Savage Creek bottom farm NE 27-13-20 or plan on going to Oklahoma A&M. I had money saved from feeding hogs and was ready to purchase the place. Dad thought I should use what cash I had saved to go to college, so he went to Grandpa S. J. and borrowed the $1,500 down payment, leaving a balance of $6,000 to be paid at the rate of $500 per year on July 1st for the next twelve years, at no interest. It was an excellent deal. I paid quite a price to own this place today. Thanks to Ted Savage it became a part of us.
CHAPTER 4

OFF TO COLLEGE AND  
THE WAR YEARS

### (1944-1946)

In the fall of 1942, I was off to Oklahoma A & M. As a freshman I wore an orange Beanie cap that the upper classmen insisted I wear. My courses consisted of English, general chemistry, animal husbandry, physical education (with Coach Iba), R.O.T.C., and Old Testament religion. In my animal husbandry class there was judging and reasons to be given before the professor. Can you imagine coming from a small school, never having been exposed to such, and having to give reasons on a class of steers before the professor (knowing that doing it wrong could flunk you)? Well, I made it. I think I got out with a B. My English was OK. In December we had a Christmas party and with it a discussion of the play As You Like It. We met at the woman professor's house. Emma Jean Conrad from Reydon was my date at the party.

I had fun playing H-O-R-S-E shootout with Bob Kurland before Mr. Iba arrived at the gym. I could outshoot Bob if I picked an angle at a distance. I told him he needed to improve.

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 Needless to say, he became a two-time All American and an Olympic gold medalist. Because of him the goal tending rules exist today. You should note that I was on the court with no chance of being a walk-on contender because the people on the court were back-to-back, two-time National Champions in '45-'46.

My R.O.T.C. Infantry was OK, with some marching and standing at attention, doing nothing. We would have to holler up to Bob Kurland to ask what was going on because all of us who were short and at the back couldn't see. My decision was to not pursue a 2nd Lieutenant Commission by staying in R.O.T.C., but to go home and accept a six-month deferment to help on the farm. This decision happened to be the right one. It probably saved my life because of the timing. I was able to score high on the army test and was selected to go to cadet flying school, but was washed out quickly because they said I had heterophoria (an eye condition in which the motion of the two eyes are not in alignment—a diagnosis I doubt). I knew the real reason they turned me down was because they were overloaded with candidates at that time. I was, however, left in the U.S. Army Air Forces—later to be called the Air Force—to become a flight engineer, which included a lot of training in all aspects of the B-24 Liberator Bomber called the "Flying Boxcar."

Just before going to service and in between college and service, I met a beautiful gal from Moorewood, Oklahoma—Patsy Jean Morgan. We had lots of fun in '43. She moved with her parents Cal and Clara Morgan into Hammon, so it was convenient for me to stop by and see Patsy J. on the main road into
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 29

 town (Highway 34). Pat was seeing after her aged grandfather, who was called Uncle Ben Smith.

In 1894 or '95 Uncle Ben had made the cattle drive from Texas to Dodge City. After one drive, he came south from Dodge City. He and his horse stopped to rest on the north side of the Washita River. Smith viewed a tract of land he liked and decided to come back and acquire this land. He did just that, building a house that straddled a line that made it possible to homestead two tracts with relative Fayette Moore. Moore obtained one tract and Uncle Ben the other. The huge pecan tree Ben Smith set out still stands there north of Hammon in all its glory. Clara, Patsy's mother, worked in the hay fields as a girl on this bottom farm. This is where I am told that Cal Morgan came to ask Clara Smith to be his bride. There it happened, and another Morgan family was begun. My paternal grandfather—Grandpa S. J.—had a good relationship with Uncle Ben that I will relate later.

Since I was still in the service in 1944-45 and not out until 1946, it is worth noting that I received training in several places. We transferred from Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas, to Kessler Field in Biloxi, Mississippi. Before I left Sheppard Field, Tice Jones, a good friend and the best high scoring member of our basketball team, came in transit with his crew all made up and headed for duty in the European theatre area over Germany. We lost two of our basketball team in the war. Tice made very few missions before being lost off the coast of Holland. Another member of our basketball team, Kenneth Isles, who lived next door to Pat, was also lost. Kenneth showed Pat how to cut up a chicken!
30 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 After my time at Keesler, I was shipped to the Willow Run Bomber Plant, near Ypsilanti, Michigan, to study R3300 Pratt & Whitney Engines. Willow Run was a massive factory that built over 8,600 B-24's between 1942 and 1945. The plant had 3.5 million square feet of space—the largest in the world. Charles Lindbergh called it "the Grand Canyon of the mechanized world." The school where I studied was near Ypsilanti, Michigan.

"The Liberator." B24 Bomber. 1945.

While there, I got a message that Elvin Bush, who was with Company G 179th Infantry, had died and was to be buried at Hammon in October 1945. I wanted to come home to the funeral. (Who wouldn't?) All of my superiors told me that it was impossible because of the importance of school. I decided to go above the sergeants and lieutenants. I asked to see the commanding officer of the field. My buddies back in the barracks laughed at me and thought I was crazy because the rules
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 31

 said you could not go home for a funeral unless it was for close kin like a mother or a father. A cousin would not qualify, but nevertheless I was going to try.

They did let me in to see the commanding officer when I told my superior and orderly there was a death in the family. I did not give the relationship at this point. When I met the colonel, I laid out the story of Elvin Bush being orphaned at sixteen because he couldn't get through the swift water and how he watched his family—mother, father, and sister—drown. I explained that he lived with my Grandpa and was like a brother to me until he joined the 45th Division. I told the colonel about Elvin being at Ft. Belvoir, Virginia, and that he had been in the battles of Anzio and Cassino and was shot up and shell shocked. After listening to my story, he reached for his pen and told the secretary orderly to "write this young man a fourteen-day pass." I went back to my barracks and started packing. My buddies couldn't believe I had surpassed all the rules of the war. Their mouths were still open in awe as I left! Sometimes persistence pays. (Later I found out the old colonel had been in the Army Infantry himself.)

I got to the funeral, met Patsy J., and was asked several times: How come you got to come home? This event and the fact that Elvin's life was cut short is just one more reason for erecting the historical monument about the flood in Hammon.

After Willow Run and Ypsilanti, Michigan, I was sent to Harlingen, Texas, where I was to undergo flying and gunnery training. We flew out over the Gulf of Mexico and fired at targets in the sky with marked tracers and at targets along the coast where Mexicans would from time to time tie up their boats to our targets. You should have seen the Mexicans speed
32 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 away when tracers would start hitting the water next to them. It was what we called at home "Speedy Gonzales."

While at this base the most important and happy part of my life occurred. Patsy J. and I were married in the beautiful base Chapel with one hundred and fifty airmen looking on. The captain of my squadron gave Patsy away while Colonel Shropshire performed the wedding. All of my buddies enjoyed this and laughed and clapped as we walked hand and hand down the aisle and left the chapel.

Pat and I lived in the Autry Hotel, an establishment owned by a person kin to Gene Autry. The Autrys thought we were country hicks and let me know the only time they were in Oklahoma was at a little place called Carpenter, and that only ignorant cotton farmers lived there. After some pause, I was asked where in Oklahoma I was from. My answer: Carpenter, Oklahoma!

My next move was to Cortland Air Force Base in Alabama and after observing the place, I thought to myself, I want no part of this since all the B24's were war-weary planes that had finished their overseas missions. The planes had been patched by riveters from one end to the other. They needed to be "retired to pasture" or put out of their misery. It might have made me sick to see this sight, for by God's grace and mercy I got really sick with appendicitis and landed in the hospital with a blood count so high they were ready to operate. I talked them into letting me go another day and another day, and to this day my appendix is intact. At this time, my entire service history was lost. That is why I contend God's mercy was with me because I survived the infected appendix, and the next day the entire group of B24's were grounded, never to be used again. The base was ordered to close.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 33

 I did make one flight out of there with the commanding officer of the field to Panama City, Florida. (My sister Mayola and my brother-in-law George happened to be stationed in Panama City at this time.) There was a problem with the twin-engine's air system; and I had to fix it, so I didn't get time to see George or Mayola.

With the base closing down at Courtland, my next orders were to go south to Gunter Field, Montgomery, Alabama, where there were both French and Chinese cadets learning how to fly A T 6 single-engine trainers. I had very little experience on this type of aircraft, but found out they were rather simple. My crew chief duty was to maintain, check preflight, sign the 1-A Form, and send the airmen up.

We had one WAC on the line to help refill and check oil. On one occasion either she or I left the oil cap off a thirty-gallon gallon oil tank. The pilot made a roll or two and came back with oil covering the plane from front to rear. A complete wash job ensued.

That incident was minor compared to the time two Frenchmen went up, made a few unnecessary maneuvers and then bailed out, letting the plane crash. I happened to be the one who signed the 1-A that morning, confirming that the plane checked out OK on the preflight run up. After an hour-long interrogation, the airmen admitted that they had panicked when each thought the other had the plane under control.

Thirty years later while on a trip to Colorado, Pat and I were on the road to visit Doc Leonard, who lived on Frying Pan Creek. There was a yard sale going on, and Pat went there while I walked a short distance to visit a minute with a fly fisherman next to a small bridge on Frying Pan Creek. After
34 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 a short greeting I asked him where he was from. He said that his hometown was Montgomery, Alabama. After telling him about my experience there and relating the story of the two Frenchmen bailing out and letting the plane crash, he immediately let me know that as a kid he ran to the site and was the first person to the crash scene. The world seems small at times. This was thirty years after the event and long forgotten by everyone except him and me.

The living quarters were excellent at Gunter Field, but I didn't live on base long because Pat and I got a place to live, which was adequate, but not great. The bed was a three-quarter and really close for two people; but, of course, closeness counts when it's horseshoes, dancing, or sleeping with a warm partner.

I received orders to go overseas and was shipped to Truax Field, five miles northeast of Madison, Wisconsin. I was given an APO number, a big green bag, and five shots of vaccine at once, which staggered me and caused me to come very close to passing out. I was able to get into Madison the following day; and while walking down the street, to my big surprise, there was my high school basketball coach Art Nelson and his wife Fern. Both Art and Fern had taught school in Hammon in '42. Art was teaching math to air force trainers at Truax. He thought I might be there for another geometry class. The Nelsons invited me to dinner that evening. What a small country to be so big! I owe them a big thanks.

Timing is everything. Congress had just passed a bill establishing a point system to determine who had to go overseas. If you had twenty-four points, you didn't have to go overseas. I had surpassed that number because I had served more than twenty-four months, so I was pulled off overseas shipment. The
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 35

 war was drawing to a close, and the time came close for my discharge, which was a thrilling thought. I was discharged in May of 1946 at Camp Chaffee, Ft. Smith, Arkansas.

The time spent in service did not seem difficult in terms of physical toughness. After all, in my short tenure on this planet I had been down the cotton rows both with a hoe and pulling that long sack that made the ol' back ache. Almost everything comes a little easier after you have "been there and done that" on the farm or ranch. Attending worship and taking communion became difficult at times; but getting close to God was easy, whether I was looking at the white puffy clouds while flying or sitting under a one-hundred-foot-tall pine tree in Mississippi.

My last assignment in the service was to oversee getting a fifteen-year old boy from Truax in Madison, Wisconsin, to Camp Chaffee, Arkansas, in May of 1946. This kid had lied to get into the service. Until this day I don't know why I—a lowly noncom—was selected to accompany him to Camp Chaffee. I did get him to the discharge center, and I got him started in the processing; however, he fell behind during processing and that was the last I saw of him. I wasn't responsible for him after this. Meanwhile, Patsy J. was at home in Hammon waiting for me, knowing I had been sent to Chaffee to be discharged.

At this point I didn't want anymore to do with service, so I said "no" to reenlistment and even made the mistake of saying no to the service insurance, which was excellent in every way. Hitchhiking was easy in those days, so it was "Home, here I come!" I arrived in Hammon about May 20, 1946.

Pat and I stayed with Pat's Mom, Clara, in Hammon until we could find a place of our own. (My father-in-law Cal Morgan had died while I was stationed at Courtland.) Harold
36 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 and Ruth Irwin lived across the street from us, and we enjoyed the good times and having real good neighbors.

We were at James and Fern Allen's place in Clinton, Oklahoma, in early June of '46 when James offered to sell us a 1932 Desoto that had a rumble seat. I purchased the relic for $250. We had lots of fun with this antique. On one occasion, Pat's brother Kenneth ("Hoover") attached a smoke bomb to the engine's spark plug. I was supposed to get in the car to go for a loaf of bread. The pranksters forgot that Hoover had put it on. Instead of me, Pat, Ila, and others jumped in, turned the switch, and . . . boom! The smoke and occupants flew like chickens flying out of a coop.
CHAPTER 5

BACK TO COLLEGE

### (1946-1949)

The summer was coming to a close, and work on the farm produced little pay. The government was our main pro-   
vider at this time. Joe W. Walton, his wife Bernie, Pat, and I made a trip to Stillwater to look for a place to rent before the fall term began. "Vet Village" was already full as veterans were returning to college by the thousands. Not finding any housing in Stillwater, we decided to go to Oklahoma City where Pat and I could work and live on Blackwelder Street behind Aunt Maude's house. I could walk down the street a short distance to Oklahoma City University. I attended two semesters at Oklahoma City University and received about thirteen hours of credit that would transfer to Oklahoma A&M.

We had some good times with a little more money to spend. We found time to go to shows and enjoy my cousins Dick Shriner and Mondessa and other relatives. One evening Dick, Mondessa, Pat, and I decided to go out and have dinner, go to a show, and just have a good time. An ice storm developed and elderly people fell and broke bones. Dick, a physician, was summoned to St. Anthony Hospital. I went with Dick and

37
38 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 watched and waited as he slapped plaster of Paris on broken limbs until 11:00 p.m. It ruined our evening, but it sure developed a good bone doctor as Dick gained all that experience.

Terry Warren, our first child, was born in 1945. He was almost a yearling by this time, and was bitten by another kid at the movies on Western Street. Phyllis Lou Dillon had Terry walking. Darryl Lee, our second, was on the way. We went home in May of 1947 and were at Houston and Alene Cope's house in Hammon when Pat let it be known she needed to go to Elk—it was time to deliver. Hayden, Pat's brother, said he would take her in his car to the hospital, but he let Pat know that he didn't want his car messed up. If you knew Hayden, persnickety was his trait. It was a close call as Darryl arrived about fifteen minutes after arriving at the hospital.

We spent the summer working on the farm and trying to get enough cash to return to Oklahoma A&M in Stillwater. We obtained a two-bedroom apartment in Stillwater, and the GI bill provided the help that was needed to send us to South Vet Village, which was often referred to as "Aroma Heights" because the horse barns were nearby. The North Vet Village had the laundry, the recreation hall, and gym where events for families took place.

It was December 1947. Christmas was coming, and a Santa Claus was in North Vet Village one evening to greet the kids. I knew the Santa Claus, so Terry was one of the first to sit on Santa's lap. The answer to the question, "What do you want Santa to bring you?," floored Santa because Terry said that he wanted a butcher knife for Christmas. "Why would you want that?" Santa asked. Terry somberly replied, "To cut pigs." Santa collared me later and wanted to know what kind
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 39

 of kid I was raising. Floyd Bush and I had butchered hogs over Thanksgiving. Terry had seen knives at work at an early age, so he wanted one.

Pat got to use my activities card supplied by the GIs to veterans, which meant she got to go to all musical programs that came on campus. Summer school of '48 was not good but a necessity, if I was to finish in May of '49. We did just that. I was able to finish with a B.S. degree and receive a diploma from Oklahoma A&M University.

Four Generations. (l. to r.) S. J., T. E. Sr.,  
T. E. Jr., and Terry. August 18, 1946.
CHAPTER 6

EARLY CAREER IN COLONY

### (1949-1951)

The next move in my life was to find a job that the family could be comfortable with. At that time new ag depart-  
ments were opening up in high schools across the state, and I had a choice of new or old programs. The first three options were in Gotebo, Reydon, and Colony—small towns in western Oklahoma. Pat and I drove to Gotebo one evening to meet with the board and Mr. Frances Tuttle, who later became the director of all Vo Tech programs in the state of Oklahoma. Today several Vo Tech campuses in Oklahoma bear his name. As soon as we pulled up in front of the school a horrible storm began, and before long the meeting was cancelled. I did not go back, but went on to Reydon. It was a hot day in Reydon. After a quick look, Pat and I agreed it was too far from medical facilities for the delivery of soon-to-be Kathy.

Next, we drove to Colony, where the board members L. F. Bond, Ed Weichel, and Mr. Green were receptive. We decided to accept their invitation to start a new ag department from scratch on July 1, 1949. With the help of the students in the program, we built the shop. I let the students take off their shirts one hot

41
42 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 September day with high humidity in the air, where from out of nowhere came the high school inspector, watching us pour concrete for the floor. The inspector approved of our work ethic that day. The classroom was upstairs in the old Seger Colony Indian School building, which was a two-story teachers' building made of red brick. It was infested with rats, so we spent some time throwing whatever came handy at rats.

We lived in an adjacent red brick building that was put there in connection with the Indian School. We lived there until Herman Bottom moved away. Then we rented his house up on the hill just west of the main high school building and gymnasium. A bus was used to transport my Ag students down to the big red brick buildings that were about one-half mile apart. That's where two of my students decided to play hooky and got off the bus at the stop on Main Street. This was my first time as a young teacher to offer the "board of education" paddling to those who wanted to test me. I only gave one other paddling and that was to Buck W. for throwing a paper wad. I was supervising three rooms at one time. With all the doors open you could hear a resounding thump at each of the five licks. It quieted down the entire student body.

The summer session ended, and school turned out for cotton-picking. On October 11, 1949, Kathleen—Kathy, our first and only daughter—arrived in Cordell. All went well, except it turned cold and rainy. When the propane man came, he refused to fill the tank because it was out of date. Mom and Kathy had to cover up while I searched for a new tank, which took awhile; but I did buy a new one. An elder in the church, Buel Lasley, was more than generous. He brought me a cow to put on my five acres and left some feed to feed her. Guy
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 43

 Smallwood, our neighbor in Hammon, furnished us with rye and vetch seed, which I planted for pasture.

Our church in Colony had some super people like the Lasleys, the Taylors, the Richmonds, the Lutengas, Johnny and Alice Kauger, and the Turners. I began teaching a Sunday school class to the Kauger girls, the Taylors, the Lasleys, the Turners and several more. It's sad to note that Yvonne Kauger's younger sister Janie was killed in a plane crash, just after we left Colony.

School resumed in October 1949, and my job became intense with projects to be obtained and the entire community to be served. I don't know why ag instructors took on the job of pulling calves, doctoring septicemia (shipping fever cattle), and saving cows with CDM (calcium, dextrose, and magnesium) deficiency. I guess it was because we had no veterinarians in those days.

My rural neighbors were truly grateful for the help, except maybe one or two. One neighbor, a great distance away, had gone to the bank in Hydro and borrowed $250 to buy a cow so the family would have milk while he was pulling cotton on one of the Lasley farms. One Sunday afternoon, a call came in asking for my help, as the cow was down with milk fever and about gone. The poor fellow was frantic and knew what it would be like to have to pay off the note pulling bales of cotton. I took 500 cc of CDM solution, and I was able to hit the juggler quickly. Within thirty minutes I had the cow on her feet. He was happy and grateful and offered me money. In more than a quarter century of doctoring cattle I never took any money.

On one occasion the scours (diarrhea) in calves were so bad the calves became dehydrated and began dying. One day
44 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 I decided to use my own concoction. Because Kathy had been given a prescription of the antibiotic Aureomycin, I decided to take her leftover pills and combine them with a mixture of Kaopectate and egg. I was amazed at the resulting success. Within a twenty-four-hour period the scours were gone, and the calves became healthy. Soon after this, you could obtain scour pills that had antibiotics like the myocin in a Kaopectate Bolus.

It was August 1951. Two years had passed since I arrived in Colony. The program was going well with good people, and I had excellent student participation. There was a resignation of the ag teacher up the road at Weatherford in early August. My thought was if there was a chance, I should pursue it and make an effort to apply for this position. Little did I know that the Oklahoma State Department of Vocational Education had already hand selected their "fair-haired boy" for this job. I always thought that this policy was illegal and discriminatory. Today, if such a situation existed, a suit would be filed for such actions. I decided to pursue the position anyway after being told emphatically "no"—I could not apply—by my supervisor. My strategy was to contact those I knew such as Herschel Risinger, who was influential in the Weatherford community, and his wife, Estelle, who taught with us at Colony. Risinger said that I should be allowed to toss my hat in the ring. Jack Harper, the ag teacher at Cordell where I did my practice teaching, also had connections with the Weatherford board and the superintendent of schools, Elmer Cecil. Both Elmer and Jack were good Methodist friends. Jack called Elmer and put in a good word. Elmer Cecil concurred that I could apply.

As it turned out, the political pressure was so great that the state department finally agreed that I could apply, but they knew
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 45

 in their heart that I didn't have one iota of a chance. In short, they lost. It was a difficult assignment to move to Weatherford in three days over Labor Day weekend in September of 1951 and be ready for classes on that following Tuesday morning. I don't even remember how we made the move so quickly.
CHAPTER 7

WEATHERFORD—  
HOME FOR 30 YEARS

## (1951-1981)

The Weatherford era began over that Labor Day weekend

in September of 1951. There was a house on North  
Indiana Street belonging to my mom, Ruth that we moved into and lived in for ten months. The principal of the junior high school was resigning his position in May, so he offered us his old native-stone house located at 701 North Illinois Street. The property included the entire one-half block from Illinois Street to Indiana Street. This half block had fruit trees, a shed, and a large strawberry patch. On the south was a nice park with a large swimming pool. Not many homes in those days had such nice amenities. A large mulberry tree stood to the northwest of the house. It had a tree house for kids made for fun. We had a really good peach tree just north of our back door, and we planted a productive pecan tree on the east. On the south, in the park, was the Rotary "scout hut." I became a member of the Rotary Club and served many years.

The house had its faults, and we found that professional carpenters had never been hired to build this structure. I am

47
48 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 sure they must have used a yardstick that measured thirty-five inches. The room arrangements were poorly thought out, and so Patsy J. decided to correct the problem. One day when I came home from school, she had a crow bar in her hand, and she was wrecking an entire wall, with plaster and 2x4's falling in all directions. This was just a start on what Patsy J. intended. By the time the family was complete, the kitchen had been remodeled, the garage had become a den, and an extra bathroom had been constructed on the west. All of this construction wasn't needed early in the fifties, but it was really useful later.

The year was 1952 and time for Thomas Lynn—Tommy— to arrive. Tommy has the distinction of being the only one out of six whose birth I was asked to observe. This observation was thrilling and also confirming what I thought it would be like. (I had delivered many hundreds of newborn animals.)

There was a drought beginning in the state, but no drought in producing a nice household of children. Pat had suggested a vasectomy, which was rejected by yours truly. She rejected the other suggestion by Dr. Standifer—that she have her cords tied. Dr. Standifer had this perspective on the situation: He said that Pat's and Ed's fertility was so excellent that all I had to do was hang my jeans on the bed post at 10:00 p.m. and by 7:00 the following morning Pat would be pregnant. And that's what happened because Douglas Eugene—Doug—was now on the way. Looking back, if we had followed through with either of the recommended operations, there would have been no Doug or Joel David—Joe. What do you think now? Doug was born June 17, 1954, during a hot, dry period at the time of wheat harvest. I always thought this was a disadvantage to Doug because wheat harvest always interfered with his birthday celebration.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 49

 In 1957 on Pat's birthday—the 26th of August—there was a P.I. (Professional Improvement) ag teachers' meeting in Elk City that I was to attend. I had barely reached Elk City when I received a call to turn around and go back to Weatherford and get Pat because she felt it was time for Joe D. to arrive. We made it to the hospital in time. The distinction of being born on Pat's birthday was an honor, and being last in our "final production" was super. Our family was complete.

I must honor Patsy J. in these pages and let it be known what a special, talented, and loving wife and mother she was. I didn't realize how talented she was until later in our lives, but looking back I should have known some of her talents because she was selected to have the lead singing role in all of the high school operettas. During World War II she sang at all the War Bond drives to make money for our nation. When her parents, Cal and Clara, moved to Hammon just before her senior year in 1944, Pat had to leave Leedey High School (eighteen miles north of Hammon) and enroll at Hammon, but this was not much of a deterrent to her social life or involvement in activities, because she became friends immediately with Marge Savage, Minnie Blount, Marie Jones, Ruth Irwin, Donna Travis, and many more. She competed for valedictorian (graduating in the spring of 1944) and was especially good at accounting, which got her a job at the 1st National Bank in Hammon upon graduation. Patsy J. was also the housekeeper and care-taker of her aged grandfather, which really helped the family because Cal and Clara went to work for Cates Department Store in downtown Hammon.

I could not stay away from this beautiful lady and "filly" who came to town from Moorewood, so during her senior year
50 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 (1943-44) I would stop by every time I went by their house on Highway 34. We married on January 28, 1945—while I was in the service.

Patsy J.'s talent for putting a house in order and putting meals together from scratch was remarkable—quicker than I had ever seen! What a super job of loving, protecting, and caring for each and every child! I give her the credit because I was absent much of the time, with my job.

Patsy J. Tippens at work in Southwestern Music Co., Weatherford. 1963.

When it came to judging character there was nobody better. An example was when she saw through two crooked politi-cians—governors. She stated emphatically that they would
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 51

 make trouble. She was exactly right because both got into trouble, and one even served time in prison. Once Herman Harris (her brother-in-law) came by our house in Weatherford and asked, "How did you know David Hall would get into trouble?" (Governor Hall was convicted of extortion and conspiracy and served nineteen months in prison.) She said, "I saw it in his eyes and facial movements." She saw much more through her reading. She read more than a thousand books, which gave her insight into many areas. It was most difficult to outsmart her in a game of Trivial Pursuit or during any question-and-answer TV game show.

In 2000 Southwestern Oklahoma State University summed up her talents in music by presenting her a plaque for her many years of service to the university and the entire area through her many years of work at the Southwestern Music Company. Patsy J. passed away on May 19, 2006. I placed a bouquet and musical note on her tombstone and honor her with all my heart.

I would not be honest if I didn't report the times when she became very frustrated with me. Patsy J. got so irritated with me at one point that her short fuse went off, and she slammed the door to the den really hard. I told her, "That isn't the way a door should be slammed!" I proceeded to show her how the door was supposed to be slammed. I slammed the door so hard that the house rocked, and the door came apart with glass shattering in a hundred pieces. Now that's the way you slam a door! Of course the door escapade cost me the price of a new door; and, I might add, door slamming became less frequent after this.

In September of 1951 I began a teaching career in Weatherford that would span a quarter century. What
52 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 a blessing it was to have parents in those early years who cared about the success of their children. It would be too difficult to list all my students, but students such as Don Hix, James Friesen, Roland Hamburger, and Garland Leonard were super and got me started off correctly.

My students, starting out as fourteen-year-old freshmen, would stand and recite the first verse of the F.F.A. creed: "I believe in the future of agriculture with a faith born not of words but of deeds—achievements won by the present and past generations

of agriculturalists. . . . ." Most had never come close to standing  
and reciting anything; but after five weeks, by taking it a step at a time, they could do it. It was a privilege and an honor to watch students mature and develop, and so sad to see one fall. The accidental death of Roland Hamburger, who was a senior and our Weatherford F.F.A. president, happened the last week of school and just before graduation. He died in a car accident on old Route 66 between Weatherford and Oklahoma City. This tragedy repeated itself years later in my teaching career when Jack Deming was killed in a car accident while traveling home from O.S.U.

A good part of my time was taken up in selecting projects, the development of beef programs, swine and sheep programs, and adult education programs from time to time. Also the development of judging teams in all areas was a challenge, but I learned the harder you worked at it, the more successful you were. The fact that I had my own sons competing was also challenging; but my boys always came through by doing a bit more than was required, both in the classroom and in the field. The fact that I taught my own added up to twenty years of instruction, which I was told was a record in the state of
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 53

 Oklahoma. If any ag teacher has twenty-four years or more of instruction of their own children, let it be known. Almost 100% of my students liked the work, whether it was working with livestock, fieldwork, or working in the shop.

I worked for more than twenty years to establish a school farm and a livestock show barn. It finally happened, and a one-hundred-year lease was executed, but later that lease was cancelled. In the end, a place was finally secured and a permanent facility was dedicated in the fall of 2005. The school farm has my name attached to the entry. It reads "7be Ed Tippens School Farm." This honor was bestowed upon me, and I received testimonies from several of my students. To my former students Tom Tippens and Duane Hamberger, I say, thanks!

There are so many success stories among my students it would be difficult to enumerate them all. There are medical doctors, attorneys, engineers, animal scientists, preachers, teachers, bankers, farmers, agriculturists, ranchers, retail oil and gas workers, builders, and business owners and operators. I hope and pray that I may have had a small part in their successes.

There were two large events that were a big part of the community during my years as an ag teacher. One was the annual livestock show sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce and our ag department. The other was the annual F.F.A. banquet sponsored by the Rotary and Kiwanis Clubs. Some of the banquet meetings were so large we had to have the gathering in the gymnasium. I remember meeting Governor Johnston Murray and wife Willie at the door. Sometimes politics became a part of our banquet. Politicians loved to speak before a joint group composed Rotary, Kiwanis, and F.F.A. members. My description and observation of this might not be adequate: Can you
54 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 imagine my young F.F.A. members having to give speeches before the governor of the state? Other speakers attending our banquets included T-Bone McDonald, Red Males, and many more, who were great conservationists.

I got accused of going off the deep end or of being "off center" by Pat's sister Imogene Edwards when one of my students came to the door to pick up a speech that had been typed for him. He had a speech impediment that was so bad Imogene couldn't understand him, and so she called for help from Pat. Pat explained that the young fellow was a speech contestant that I was grooming. At this point Imogene knew I had gone off my rocker and definitely had rocks in my head instead of brains. However, the young man did fine in the contest. The speech therapy and the exercise of preparing and giving public speeches improved his communication skills tremendously.

Other students did extremely well. For example, Jack Dickey was able to communicate so well that he won first in the state and gave his speech before a joint meeting of the House and Senate at the state capitol. His only problem was that, because of this singular honor, he missed his high school speech class, and the teacher gave him an F for being gone from class. What a sad state of affairs!

Our mechanics welding class never received anything but 1st in the interscholastic meets. Our shop produced the number one display of ag equipment and so was honored by WKY-TV.

One year my good friend A.L. Lee, who was the T & I (Trades and Industry) instructor, wanted a project for his class. In order to be selected you had to draw up a proposal of what you wanted constructed and then publish that proposal in the paper for three weeks. I did just that. Mine was the only proposal
 T. E. Tippens, Jr. 55

The Morgan Clan. (standing, l. to r.) Clara Morgan, Nadine Kiehn, Aline Cope, Jake Morgan, Imogene Edwards, Hayden Morgan, and Warren Morgan. (foreground) Patsy J. and Kenneth Morgan.

offered. And so through the work of Mr. Lee's T & I students we got a two-story apartment building constructed. With family help we completed the interior in such areas as taping, texturing, tile work, painting, and cementing.

Our dog, Butch, played a part in this operation by swiping the students' hammers. He would run under their tool shed and then dare them to come retrieve their hammers. Butch would also take a broom out of your hand and run with it. When he wasn't doing this, he would stop traffic with his antics. For example, he would spread-eagle over a water sprinkler in the park or hang from a tree with his bulldog tenacity. What a dog!

During the middle '60's I was finally notified that Grandpa Rector's place was going to sell and that Whit Lee enterprises
56 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 had offered to buy the property and even had the inside track. I made up my mind to try at least to see about this property since it had been in the family since 1910-11, for fifty-five years. I found out that Aunt Miriam and Mom would allow me to meet the Whit Lee bid. The next question was: Where would I get the money? Nobody offered me a loan except the Custer County Savings & Loan, and they said they would loan me the money on my house that was three-fourths paid for.

My brother-in-law Jake Morgan came by and told me that it might be a bad idea. Who in the world would start all over paying for your home when you just about had it paid for? Again, the thought of having the rocks in my head was the thought of others, not mine. I made the deal with the loan company, and they raised my interest rate from 4 1/4% to 6% interest. The lady at the Custer County Savings & Loan made up the monthly statement, which included taxes to be paid each month. I told her these taxes were not due until the end of the year. I contended that this tax money was not theirs, but mine. I told her I could buy a cow, the cow could have a calf, and that calf might pay the tax bill. She said I was the only person that would have it this way. "Fine," I said. I like that distinction, and so that was the way it was. I paid off the notes to Mom and Aunt Miriam at the rate of $866 per year, and I settled with Uncle John by letting him have the west grass.

I took possession, and what did I find? There were no fences worth keeping, and no conservation work had been done in years. There was a large ditch eating out into and eroding number one land on the west side of the creek. It required a draw down to let the water into the creek and a large diversion along the creek. These improvements are still working today.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 57

 The wheat crop produced by Burl Timms, my tenant, was a disaster. The one-third due me as the landlord amounted to $53 dollars, which was not enough to pay the taxes.

It seems that each and every place I acquire requires an enormous amount of work. This includes the last place I purchased; but thanks to my grandson Michael T. and yours truly, new fences and new grasses are fast becoming a part of this place. I do receive some enjoyment in improving places that I buy.

I purchased the Rector place in the mid 60's, and the hippy movement was in full motion. Some of my students began to reflect attitudes and behavior commensurate with hippy styles. I could stand the long hair as long as it didn't get in the way of efficiency or get caught in the machinery, like teats getting caught in a wringer, or catching on fire with a welder. I did give an option to one student and that was this: He could stay in the classroom and study the Lincoln welding book, or he could allow me to shorten his hair so it would fit under the helmet nicely and go back in shop. Guess what? He chose the shortened look, so I proceeded with the Sunbeam animal clippers to cut his hair short.

We also went through a period of time when it was fashionable to let your jeans fray at the bottom. This was OK when showing off to the classmates walking down the hall, but when welding or using the acetylene torch it became sparkling time in December and always good for a laugh.

My duties in serving the community were ongoing, and I was asked from time to time to help buy herd bulls. It was always trouble when I got with J. O. Dickey. We had a wreck on one occasion, when J. O. drove us into a deep ravine. When we bailed out, all of us lost our water. On another bull-buying
58 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 excursion, I got stopped by a highway patrolman at the Seiling-Watonga exit for not signaling. It was dark, and the patrolman asked for my driver's license, so I got out in front of the headlights searching through my billfold for my license. J. O. stepped up and told the patrolman that he had known me for a long time and that I didn't have a license. He said I didn't "use them" (a license). I received a warning ticket, but no fine. The next day in Miller Drugstore, J. O. told all the coffee drinkers how he had "protected" me and how I would have been in "a heap of trouble" if it hadn't been for him. To tell you the truth, I was in a heap of trouble with J. O., whether it was showing him how to cut bulls or buying him bulls.

When you are the ag professor, it becomes your responsibility to treat and cure diseases whether it is leptospirosis or coccidiosis or even black leg. There was a period of time from 1949 until the '60's that we had no veterinarians to serve the area. We finally talked Dr. Jack Williamson into coming to "Big W" country. He did come but gave it up for a poultry inspection job in Arkansas.

By the mid '70's it was time for me to start looking west to farms and ranching, which I thought would be a lighter load. Some would argue that farming and ranching would require more work, but I could see it as a big relief getting away from the pressures of school. I wanted more freedom, more time outside, and more vacation time; but this was not possible being tied to school. I ran up the white flag and surrendered the job in 1977. We had depended on hired managers for years, and these people were not getting the job done. Most often I would find the caretaker drunk and AWOL—absent without leave.

I decided to drive back and forth from Big W country from 1977 to 1980 because Pat's job was so beneficial, and the old farm
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 59

 house was in need of repair and not ready for full use. We fixed up the east bedroom by putting new sheet rock on a vaulted ceiling and installing new carpet and a new wall heater. We began the plan for a new house to be built in 1982. The decision was made to get off the top of the hill because of the wind and road dust and build 650 feet north of the road in a rather protected area. This area was a place my cows liked during a blizzard when the wind howled from north to northwest.

When I was in school at Oklahoma A&M, I had an ag engineering professor named Fuzzy Hazen, who insisted housing fronts should be located so that the sun would hit the front of the house directly during December and January, so that you could collect this heat in a sun room and let it flow naturally into the main part of your house. We did this, and today that heat is an asset. The only problem with this is that we need shade some of the time because the six Andersen windows let so much sun in that it is necessary to shut off the sun at times. We purchased a rollout, electrically operated shade that allows the shade or the sun in, whatever proportion you desire.

Some of the neighbors thought we were off the deep end for building a two-story, four-bathroom house. No other neighbor in any direction had even come close to building such a structure. In fact, you had to drive into Elk City to see such a structure. The place has done reasonably well and has served the family well now for twenty-five years. It is my hope that it will be maintained another twenty-five or even a hundred years.

In 1998 I was happy to get the Centennial Farm designation for the Tippens family place. In order to do this, we had to write the National Archives in Washington, D.C., because the records did not exist in Custer County in 1898. We were able
60 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 to prove that the family place was homesteaded in 1898. We were happy to erect a monument in honor of S. J. and Nettie on the old home place. It has been 109 years since that homestead was proven.
CHAPTER 8

REFLECTIONS ON THE BEGINNINGS

The ancestors of the Rector and Tippens families and their

heritage need to be recorded. These memories come from  
past investigations and from Aunt Esther Baggett's research and from visiting older relatives.

The Tippens family came by boat and landed on the East coast at an earlier time that I'm not sure of. My Grandma Angenette (Nettie) Pendleton's family came from England. The Tippens family, or at least the clan that I know about, traveled south through the Carolinas and Georgia, where Thompson Tippens—in the early 1820's—met and married a wife, and pur-chased some sort of plantation or farmland near Athens (Cherokee County), Georgia. I have read Thompson Tippens' last will and testament. Alcy, a son, received his portion of his father's property.

The Gassaway family also traveled down the East Coast through the Carolinas into Georgia. Alcy Tippens met Lucinda Gassaway, and they married in about 1856. My Great Uncle Will was born about 1857; and my grandpa Stonewall Jackson (S. J.) Tippens was born August 2nd,1862, in Athens, Alabama.

When the Civil War began in 1861, Alcy was selected to go with the Alabama infantry into this terrible conflict. Alcy was

61
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 captured and became very ill. His medical record, which I have read, indicates that he had rheumatic fever and was hospitalized for some time. Just before the War ended, Union forces with their two-wheel cannon carts, wagons, and horses came through Great Grandma Lucinda's yard. S. J. (who would have been about three years old) was playing in the yard. He was about to be run over when big brother Will picked him up and threw him over

Two Brothers: W. R. Tippens and T. E. Sr. ca. 1914.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 63

 a fence where he hit his head on a stone. The scar remained the rest of his life. When I was a boy, Grandpa S. J. would bend over, part his hair, and show me where he had been wounded in the Civil War, as a young three year old. Ever since, it never seemed to be a good idea to play in the street or road.

The Yankee soldiers ransacked Great Grandma's house and then burned it down. Great Uncle Will, in his story of the event, said that he watched as this happened. He also watched a medical technician operate on a soldier there on the home place, by removing steel balls from the wounded soldier's body. Uncle Will said that bullets were flying through the trees, but I don't know what he meant by removing steel balls from the soldier's body.

Great Grandpa Alcy did not make it home for more than eight months after the war ended in 1865, either because he was too sick to travel or because the Yankees had him in confinement or in prison. He was not allowed to go below the Mason-Dixon Line for eight months.

Great Grandma Lucinda survived the disaster of the War, with only a team of horses and a wagon, which had been hidden in the trees and so were not taken by the Yankees. Grandpa S. J. told me how terrible the times were and the difficulties of surviving after the War ended. He told me of digging roots of various kinds to eat and especially of eating wild onions and wild berries, which were an integral part of surviving.

Great Grandma had other children that I know of, including a daughter named Lucy, who married a Metheny. I was much more familiar with Great Uncle Will, who lived to be 103, and is buried in Greenville, Texas.

The westward migration was ongoing, and in 1879 our family decided to migrate to the West through Louisiana and
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Marriage Certificate of S. J. Tippens and Nettie Pendleton, Nov. 3, 1889.

into an area northeast of Greenville, Texas, to a small place called Celeste. Uncle Will settled over at Greenville. There, in north Texas, S. J. met Anginette Pendleton. They married in a Methodist church. I have the marriage license that is dated November 3, 1889.

Grandpa never told me how he got two wagons and teams of horses to El Reno, Oklahoma, in December of 1898; but he told me that a Mr. Fesmire of Western Oklahoma lineage helped drive one of the wagons. (Granddad had surveyed the territory in 1897, so he knew where he was going to land.) He talked the depot agent at the El Reno train station into letting them sleep inside the depot, instead of in the wagons. So they
 T. E. Tippens, Jr. 65

Alcy (or Alsie) and Lucy (Lucinda Gassaway) Tippens. T. E. Tippens, Jr.'s great grandparents.
66 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 stayed inside and had the big pot-bellied stove to keep them warm until the next morning.

The trip west began the next day. Several days went by before they arrived at the knoll just above Panther Creek, in Custer County; and this is where the half dugout was established. The wagons were loaded with enough lumber to build the top half of a half dugout. Grandpa told me he could have stayed with neighbors, the Dunlaps, but he slept outside the first night. Ice froze in his water jug that night.

Mr. Fesmire and Grandpa began digging down four feet. The one-half dugout was twenty by thirty-six feet, with the kitchen up on top and not below ground. My father, Thomas Edison Tippens, was born in this dugout home on January 7, 1900.

Some may wonder why anyone would establish a half dugout in this location; but in assessing and observing this environment a person can quickly see if you are below ground and have access to wood and water on Panther Creek, it would be possible to make it. My grandparents lived in the dugout some six or seven years (1898-1905), and then they built a white frame house next to the section line road. The section line road running east to the old crooked steel bridge has never been open—it remains closed to this day.

A few things should be noted about our ancestors. They fall into one of three categories: There are the early adapters, late adapters, and non-adapters. I consider our grandparents early adapters because on both sides of our families they were successful innovators. An example would be the fact that Grandpa Tippens terraced his land just north of the second homestead, long before there was a Soil Conservation Service that encouraged such practices. Agricultural personnel from Oklahoma A&M College
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 67

 came out to the family place in 1930 to see Grandpa's terracing for themselves. Grandpa showed them how his terraces held the water. These terraces exist today just north of my cow lots.

Another example that should be noted was the forging of metal. Grandpa had a blower and coal to get metal really hot. In doing so he was able to make his own cotton stripper blades long before companies made them. He brought the first telephone to the house in 1911. Grandpa was an innovator. He was the first we knew of in Western Oklahoma to run beef cows, milking short horn cows, and Shropshire sheep—and all on the same grass pasture. This practice got the attention of some to the extent that Grandpa was asked to speak before a group at the University of Oklahoma as to how he survived the Great Depression. This speaking opportunity was, of course the doings of his daughter, Esther (Aunt Esther Baggett). From what I have been told, Grandpa let them know about his diversity of sheep, beef cows, milking cows, hogs, chickens, and horses. What diversity! He let them know he didn't darken a door in town unless he had enough produce to sell that would garner enough revenue to purchase the needed food and supplies for the next week or month. This method must have had some merit as Grandpa did not put a mortgage on his place, and he passed on without being in debt to anyone.

Grandpa did not allow cursing or drinking or smoking on his place. If he heard a cuss word, his response was quick with "You can cut that out!" All the swimmers, especially the girls, did not want to be seen by him, so they made themselves scarce.

Grandpa's driving an auto was not nearly as good as his driving a team of horses. On one occasion, I remarked, "Grandpa, you almost run in that canyon!" His answer was, "Pshaw, Junior!
 68 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

Stonewall Jackson and Nettie Tippens. ca. 1930.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 69

 Sister Weaver and I have already run in that canyon once, and I know it's there." On another occasion, he missed the curve on the old dirt road to Arapaho, and the round part of the steering wheel came off, and he ran the spoke of the steering wheel through his jaw, breaking it.

By the time he was seventy-five, his heart had become weak. Dr. Shadid, who was at the Elk City Community Hospital, gave him nitroglycerin pills to take when an attack came on. On one occasion, he took too many pills, and Floyd Bush rushed him to the hospital in Elk City where the doctors asked him, "What in the hell have you done now, Jack? How many of those did you take?" Grandpa told them that he had taken enough "to do him some good." Grandpa outlived all the doctors at the hospital, so the pills must have done him some good.

Grandma Nettie was a loving person and considerate of others She must be given some credit for the successes. I remember all the insulin shots for diabetes she took between 1930 and 1939. She passed on in 1939. The lilac bush is still there that she planted in the '30's, but I don't think it will last much longer. It is just south of the Centennial Farm sign we erected in memory of Stonewall Jackson and Nettie Tippens after one hundred years of family ownership.
CHAPTER 9

REMEMBER THE TIMES

Today's generation might not comprehend or appreciate

what it is like to get up in the morning and have to go. "Go  
where?" you might ask. The temperature on that January morning is 15 degrees; the outhouse is some one hundred feet away; and you have to go there. It doesn't take long to read the catalog. I want to remind anyone who will listen that we didn't get electricity until 1941. We carried water up the hill to the old Cap Dunlap house in buckets. There were no showers, no porcelain bathtubs, and no pretty white sinks. We had a galvanized tub that we took a bath in with a limited amount of water.

One morning I had gone down the hill to get water for Mayola and Ila to do the dishes. Just as I was going in the west door, I looked to the west and saw some Mallard ducks land on the pond. I grabbed Dad's old twelve-gauge shotgun and loaded it. Since it was cold outside, I decided to load and snap it shut inside. When I snapped it, to close it, the gun went off, striking our old linoleum floor. I don't know which exploded the highest—the linoleum, which hit the ceiling and landed in the girls' dishwater, or the girls high jumping. We covered up the hole in the floor with a mat. I thought, "No big deal!" The ducks were safe that morning.

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 In 1939 Uncle Riley and Aunt Nancy and their family came back from Friona, Texas, to help take care of Grandpa S. J., since Grandma Nettie has passed on. I wish at this point to give credit to all the pioneer women who suffered and did without all the conveniences we take for granted today.

I observed Uncle Riley and Aunt Nancy taking care of Grandpa (and what good service!), and sometimes it was very difficult. I appreciate Aunt Nancy's care of Grandpa and know what a struggle it was to drive a distance to teach school, and then to come home and do the chores, and put meals on the table. We must give credit to Aunt Nancy for helping keep the farm afloat along with providing healthcare to Grandpa. I wish to place a diamond in Aunt Nancy's crown and make this comment: "Well done. You did good."

I would be remiss if I didn't mention what a strong believer in education our grandparents were—both the Tippenses and Rectors. This commitment to education continues today through my family's support of scholarships at Oklahoma State University (an OSU ag scholarship) and at Oklahoma Christian University (the Tippens Family and the Mike McDonald Scholarships).

When my father, T. E., was six years old, there was no local school (neither Colter nor Pie Flat had yet been established), because Oklahoma had not become a state yet, but was just a territory, with no school lands set aside. What was the answer? Grandpa found a good school in Cordell, so he decided to rent a place in Cordell for Grandma, my father, and my sisters to go there for an early education. My father started first grade there in 1906. What a drive and a sacrifice! Many did not even attempt to go to school in those early years. Oklahoma's statehood came in 1907, and shortly after that many schools were
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 73

 started. When Colter school started, it was much easier and less expensive.

When my father reached his teen years, he had what I call a "hormone explosion." He was "hot" on a local girl who lived across the creek, a short distance away. Grandpa shipped T. E. off to a school in Texas called Thorp Springs Christian School (along with my Aunt Ruth, Dad's sister), so that this hot union wouldn't develop. The plan worked. That is, the separation worked, but not much education at Thorp Springs was accomplished. I really believe the demands for a good education by the Tippens family

50th Wedding Anniversary. 1995.
74 JUST A PASSING THROUGH

 is the reason we have so many professionals with degrees in our lineage. We have medical doctors, attorneys, engineers, teachers, accountants, bankers, and other professionals.

In those early days of the twentieth century there was no medical doctor in Hammon, so Grandpa wrote to the Tennessee Medical Association requesting information on how to obtain a doctor for the Hammon community. Hammon obtained its first doctor as a result of Grandpa's action. Another first was Grandpa's getting the neighbors together to form the area's first anti-horse thief association. This organization was instrumental in cutting down on horse theft.

Theft was a problem in the early days. At one point Grandpa was getting grain stolen from him, so he decided to mark the grain with colors. He became his own detective and found the marked grain in a thief's hog trough. The thief was caught and put on trial in Arapaho, the county seat. The defendant hired two Oklahoma City attorneys. Grandpa said he didn't need an attorney, so with evidence and witnesses at hand, he pleaded his own case and won. The defendant was placed in jail and did time.

The losing attorneys from Oklahoma City approached Grandpa after the trial, congratulated him on his competence, and told him that he should have been an attorney. Grandpa told them that he had thought about it, but would rather go to heaven. Grandpa told me this story in 1940.

Kerosene lamps were the lights to see by, as Thomas A. Edison's lights were not even on the horizon, and so we had to get by with lamps and lanterns. One last flicker did happen as Grandpa decided to try carbide lights. These were better than the kerosene lamps, but nothing to brag about—just another weak light.
CHAPTER 10

  P

THE RECTOR-DUFFY CLAN

The Rector and Duffy family histories begin in Indiana

somewhere in the area of Greencastle. Lucien Volney  
Rector was born in Indiana in 1869, and his mother was from the Shattuck family. There is a book on the Shattucks, but I know of none on the Rector side; however, Grandpa told me that he thought the name Rector at one time was Richter.

The well-known Duffy family came to the United States just after the Irish potato famine. I knew Dave Duffy well, who was a nephew of my grandparents. Dave, who lived in Oklahoma City, was an order buyer of cows for many years on the Oklahoma City Stockyards. He has a relative who lives in Edmond, Oklahoma, even today.

The Duffy family were in other parts of Indiana. When the World's Fair of 1933 occurred, my parents visited the Duffys near Gary, Indiana, and were able to get tickets for a baseball game and got to see Babe Ruth hit a home run. We kids got the pleasure of staying at home and receiving a small, twelve-inch World's Fair 1933 banner. What a deal!

Grandpa Lucien Rector attended Central Normal College in Danville, Indiana, where he earned a degree in teaching in

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 1889. He then attended DePauw University and received a degree in theology on June 13, 1894. Grandpa Rector was a teacher and a Methodist preacher. He moved to Oklahoma to begin a career that lasted more than fifty years. He came by train with Molly, his horse, to Weatherford and then settled about four miles south of the present-day Cherokee Restaurant on Interstate 40, southeast of Clinton. The land was not all that great, but livable. Since Grandpa Rector was a schoolteacher at Chapel Hill and preached at a Methodist Church in Parkersburg, this would be sufficient for the time being.

Grandma May and Grandpa Lucien were married in about 1901. Grandpa had her come later by train from Indiana to Oklahoma. Grandma's organ also came later by train, but the train came only as far as Weatherford. The organ had to be loaded onto a wagon and brought to their home at Chapel Hill, southeast of Clinton. The wagon had to cross Deer Creek on the way to Chapel Hill. The wagon got half way up the creek bank when it toppled out of the wagon. What a predicament and a dilemma and what a decision to make!

The decision was this: two cowboys rode up on horses and made a proposition, which was this: "We will load the organ and bring it to you later, if you will let us use it for a dance we are having this weekend." Can you imagine a preacher furnishing the organ music for a dance? What a decision and position to put the young preacher in. Granddad accepted the offer, and the cowboys fulfilled their agreement by getting the organ to Chapel Hill the following Monday.

My mother, Ruth, was born at Chapel Hill on August 31, 1903. My Aunt Miriam and Uncle John followed. Granddad preached at Parkersburg, southeast of Clinton, which meant he
 T. E. Tippens, Jr. 77

Maternal grandparents. May and  
Lucien Rector, Christmas 1950.

had to ride his horse several miles and cross the Washita River. Sometimes the river was full of water, even over the bank. There were several occasions when his students got together for a class reunion, and Granddad would ring the bell and a celebration would begin. This included the Sniders, the Giles, the Stewarts, and others. The 1949 reunion made a big story in The Sunday Oklahoman.1

Granddad decided that he wanted better land, and I am sure he wanted some land that would grow yellow corn like

 1The reunion was held on October 11, 1949. See "1902 School Days Relived: Teacher, 81, Joins Chapel Hill Class Reunion." !e Sunday Oklahoman, 16 October 1949: A22.
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 in Indiana. He found just that after spending about nine years teaching. Granddad found the place he wanted on the west side of Quartermaster Creek, just north of the Washita River, where the river makes its northern most venture before it heads to the southeast and into what is now Foss Lake.

The land's abstract shows on the very first page that the first owners were Roman Nose and Red Bird, with his thumbprint and her thumbprint affixed to said page. The land was so fertile and rich in organic matter that Grandpa was able to get by and raise yellow corn. He built a corncrib that is still there today.

The Rectors were also innovators and early adapters. The intricate water pipes designed to catch rainwater, pipes that can still be seen embedded in the concrete walls of the old house, testify to my grandparents' ingenuity. A battery system and a wind-powered generator afforded enough power for radio and some electric lights. You couldn't listen to the radio, except for a few minutes each day. When Joe Lewis was to fight,

Four Horses on the Rector place: (l. to r.) Beauty, Nellie, Trixie, Maud—with L. V. Rector. (Where T. E. learned to swim.)
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 79

 we got to listen to all fifteen rounds, but if a knock-out happened, that was it. The radio was turned off.

Grandpa built two huge concrete water tanks, and water was piped from tank # 1 to tank # 2. The second tank was the one we all learned to swim in. Goldfish were kept in the tanks, so we learned to swim like and with the fish.

My grandparents, the Rectors, were the first in the entire area to bring black folks to the farm. Grandpa built a house for K. T. and Janey Richardson over the hill west. K. T. did the cotton farming, and Janey did the maid service. I never remember them eating a meal with us, as Janey would remain in the kitchen unless we needed something. Janey would eat in the kitchen. We always had lots of good food, both fresh and canned; but it was much too fatty. I think that diet might have caused both grandparents to be overweight and to have strokes.

For many years granddad preached and taught the Word, as well as married people. I can remember Doc and Ellen Fly coming to be married late one night. I watched as Granddad performed a good ceremony in his stocking feet. Today a row of pews in the Hammon Methodist Church is named for the Rector family. My friends, who I have lunch with in Hammon, often tell me of the wonderful but lengthy prayers my grandfather offered.

All the Rector children attended school and graduated in Hammon. My mom and Aunt Miriam both graduated from college and both taught school. Uncle John was sent to Coyne Electrical School in Chicago, where he finished.

I have fond memories of going to Sunday school at the Hammon Methodist Church, where postcard-size lessons, with pictures depicting the lesson of the day, were given to us. After Sunday services, we would go by Lamberts, which was the place to
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 get ice to fill the old wooden ice box. The icebox kept food better than lowering the food down in a cistern, which was one way of keeping food. If we got an extra twenty-five pounds of ice, it was a sign that we might get ice cream made with the old hand freezer.

On the Rector farm there was a huge silo with an innovative bucket designed to be lowered so that it could be filled. Then, by pulley, it could be raised and dumped. Grandpa Rector was really good at bee-keeping. He had about twelve hives located in a lilac row, about one hundred yards west of the house. I watched him many times don his gear and extract the honey from the hives. The bees often stung us when we were swimming in the big concrete tanks, but good honey took some of the sting out.

Grandma May was the boss when it came to managing the cream and eggs. She had Rhode Island Red hens that, of course, laid red eggs, because Rhode Island hens have red ear lobes. Grandma Tippens had white Leghorn hens, too, and of course they produced white eggs because they have white ear lobes. (The color of a hen's ear lobes indicates the color of the hen's eggs.) There is no charge for this lesson on red and white eggs.

One thing you do not want to do is gather eggs when it is dark or at night because you can't see what is in the nest. A bull snake occasionally likes to swallow an egg and then curls up in the nest. I can guarantee it will get your attention when you reach for an egg and the bull snake is there instead. This happened to me only once on my lifetime, which was enough of a chilling experience to last and last.

Grandma Rector had a good thing going because she used Grandpa's milo grain to feed the chickens. She kept the egg money separate in her own account at the Hammon bank. Patsy J. worked at the bank where Grandma's egg money was
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 81

 accidentally put in L. V. Rector's account. Pat would say that you don't make that kind of mistake with Grandma's egg money more than once—not a good idea.

The Depression was in full force with all of its ugliness. Foreclosures were rampant up and down many section line roads. I can remember hobos walking from the railroad tracks and coming to Grandma's for a handout of food. She never turned them down, but there was one catch to her generosity. She would

Binding Wheat and Putting It in Shocks. Rector place on Quartermaster Creek. ca. 1930.

have the roast beef sandwiches ready after the manure had been cleaned out beneath the chickens' roost. It was a pact that must have lasted for ten years or longer.

I remember the discussion about indebtedness and how to pay for a big Avery combine and the Allis tractor. Grandpa Rector switched over to tractors a bit quicker than the Tippens clan. I remember riding the steel lug Allis-Chalmers tractor when I was about seven years old. The steel lugs would really bite into the ground and get traction, but they also jarred every bone in your body.
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 Don't worry about bankruptcy or foreclosures. My grandparents were so resourceful and innovative with their early adapter methods that no loss of land ever occurred. The Tippens family still owns both properties. I have a picture of about thirty big red and roan steers, each one weighing a thousand pounds or more, that lifted the mortgage off the Rector land. A note of sale and a picture of the cattle verified this land transaction and mortgage lifter.

The Rector place in the '30's consisted of the Whiteskunk lease to the south where the Washita River cut through the lease. Many times cattle would get caught on the south side of the river and would have to swim across or stay on the south side. We also had to bring cattle in when the train was not running because the railroad track ran through the middle of Granddad Rector's place.

The Spotted Horse Picnic Grounds were just south of the river where both white people and Indian people gathered for a week of festivities and frivolity. These festivities included games, horse races, all kinds of contests, and lots of food. All this area is designated a historical site today. Just recently, a pipeline company was not allowed to run lines across this land. They had to put the line in the road right-of-way. The Oklahoma Geological Society and the Oklahoma Historical Society are protecting this area.

Let's remember the leadership of our forefathers and praise their resourcefulness, steadfast nature, and pioneering spirit. I am reminded of their Christian dedication, especially of my grandparents' talents, when I recall Uncle Jack's (S. J.'s) tenor voice, as he sat on the front row in church, or Preacher L. V. delivering that long prayer that ended with these words:

We ask this with great joy, and to the only God we know, may there be glory, majesty, power, and authority through Jesus Christ our Lord and Redeemer, now and forevermore. Amen.
CHAPTER 11

WACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS

hen my father, T. E., was getting up in years and approaching his eighties, he was still an active driver, driving himself from Oklahoma City to the farms at Hammon on a regular basis. He would stop in Weatherford on each and every drive. One day he stopped on the south side of Main Street and decided to walk across the street to the Miller Drugstore. He almost made it, but a girl (a student at Southwestern) coming from the north turned the corner onto Main and hit Grandpa T. E., throwing him up on the hood.

Tommy was called; and Smith Wycoff, the druggist, called the ambulance. T. E. was rushed to the hospital where the doctor, the hospital staff, and Tommy all listened to the discussion of Dad's condition. Dad said he was O.K., but Dr. John Huser said, "You need to let us take x-rays to see if there are fractures or broken bones, at which time Grandpa told the doctor and the staff, "You need to go get that girl and have her head x-rayed, instead of me." I had heard ultimatums like that before; and now Tommy, the doctor, and the staff were hearing it. Grandpa T. E. finally agreed to an x-ray, and what did Dr. Huser see? He said, "What excellent bones!

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 I am amazed at his condition and bone strength." So much for the great auto escape.

Another incident that needs reviewing is the "oil and gas" confrontation that Dad had with Jernigans, who were the operators of the gas well that been producing for a year. This well that was located in the back west pasture in Section 21 had some problems and had changed ownership, but still the royalty owners were due just compensation for their gas. The division orders had all been signed, but more than six months' production had elapsed with no pay.

T. E. thought, "enough is enough," so he marched into Jernigans' office in Oklahoma City and let them know that he was staying there until he got his money. He stated unequivocally that he had brought his bedding to spend the night. I don't think they wanted a scene or any bad publicity, so in about an hour they made up the checks for several thousand dollars. They handed him the checks, and he was on his merry way. Very few royalty owners in the entire section 21 ever got paid. You can call it luck or persistence or whatever, but the facts are there: Jernigans filed for bankruptcy the following month.

There was another accident that involved Uncle John Rector. Uncle John was on the south side of the Washita River plowing when he stopped to empty a Ball glass dust collector. The glass jar broke as he was twisting it off, and it severed all the tendons in his wrist, which turned all of his fingers loose. The chance of bleeding to death was real.

Uncle John squeezed the arteries with the opposite hand and started walking to the Eakins place (now the Mosely place), which was one-half mile south. Doyle Eakins rushed Uncle John to Dr. Standifer in Elk, and Dr. Standifer did
 T. E. Tippens, Jr. 85

Oops. Tractor overturned on Panther Creek in 2005. A rare mistake in 70 years of driving tractors.

an excellent job of attaching and sewing each tendon. I can remember Uncle John squeezing a 2 and 1/2 inch rubber ball until he got full use of that hand.

About twelve years later I was in Dr. Standifer's office, and I asked him how he maintained his steady hand to sew such items like tendons together. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long barrel 38 revolver and proceeded to place a nickel on the barrel and squeeze the trigger. The revolver clicked while the nickel remained on the barrel. Most of us could never do that.

In the great Washita River flood of 1934, Uncle John gets lots of credit for saving Lawrence Taylor and his daughter by riding the crossties. He had to dive under the raft at one point and remove barbed wire that had caught the raft and hung it up.
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 Most of the family does not know about Great Uncle Ellsworth Rogers, who was blind. He was married to Great Aunt Rose. Rose was Grandma Nettie Tippens' sister. Uncle Ellsworth was one of the most likable, respectable persons I ever knew. Since he was blind, I could never understand how he could make a living working in the dark. Uncle Ellsworth came to our place in 1941 to help build the stanchions for our milk cows. He would miss the nail head at times and hit his fingers, which would bleed. What an honor to know and see a blind person live a life and never complain. His tombstone is located in the Butler cemetery with this appropriate inscription: "Out of darkness, into light."

Granddad Rector also suffered for more than twenty years with one eye. The eye was lost when he was hammering a 20-penny nail into concrete. The nail came flying and flipped into his eye. It didn't stop Granddad, but it did make a great inconvenience. Another inconvenience I wish to mention is the wooden peg leg of Uncle Leo. I can to this day remember his good nature. He lost his leg in an accident while working with trains. The artificial leg didn't slow him down. I can see him today climbing up the steps of the combine and positioning himself to operate the header. I have seen him strap the leg on and say, "Let's go!" He had the leg strapped on the night of the flood, but he didn't have time to strap it on properly. (Doris Bush confirmed that fact to me.) Uncle Leo also found amusement in stabbing his artificial leg with a pocketknife while the kids gathered round and were amazed. He would do this on Main Street where there were kids.
CHAPTER 12

HOW TO JOIN THE BALLOON CLUB

There was a "going" problem that I developed in 2004 and 2005. I began to look for and locate every restroom along every highway and byway. On a fall day in October of 2006 it became clear to me that I needed to find out why I was having to go so often, so I went into Elk City to see Dr. Anwar. He had me take a blood test. When I heard from him a few days later, he said it was urgent that I return to his office immediately, which I did. He did the big one exam, which is not the big one finger you see at a football game. After checking me over and looking at my P.S.A. test of 6.2, he wrote out two prescriptions, one for Toprol (for my blood pressure), and the other had two words on the prescription: POS – CANCER. I guess he thought I needed heart medicine to stabilize me after that shocking news. On the laboratory blood test Dr. Anwar wrote, "See oncologist 'now' in Elk." I had observed the results of this oncologist's treatment of two of my friends, and I wanted nothing to do with him.

I made an appointment to see an urologist in Oklahoma City who had a good reputation. Dr. Jon did the biopsy, and the Gleason score was not a good one. On a scale of 0 to 10, the score

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 was an 8 (4 + 4). Dr. Jon had me do other scans like an MRI bone scan and a colonoscopy. Dr. Jon's assessment was so bad that he wanted me to see the oncologist there in the Deaconess Hospital urology department. I did this, and Dr. Taylor, who I thought was a super nice man, wanted to start radiation as quickly as possible. He told Kathy and me about losing his father to prostate cancer. We discussed the options. I brought up proton therapy as an option. I asked him, if he had cancer like mine, would he do the radiation given there at Deaconess, or would he do another kind such as proton therapy? His answer was that they did "the best they could" with their kind of radiation at Deaconess. That was not what I wanting to hear.

We spent more than three weeks asking the staff at Deaconess to send my medical file to Loma Linda University Medical Center in Loma Linda, California. Finally, Loma Linda received them, and I was accepted as a candidate for proton therapy. I was also accepted for radical radiation at Loma Linda because my doctors in Oklahoma City thought my cancer might have spread to other glands and organs. Before beginning the radical radiation, the doctor at Loma Linda suggested a rather new kind of MRI that viewed all the pelvic area surrounding the prostate. The test required the insertion of a large balloon-like instrument, and it stayed in there for 45 to 50 minutes, while they took readings. It was very painful and uncomfortable. I wanted to avoid the radical radiation if at all possible, so it was worth the trouble. The test was completed, and it indicated that I had no spread of cancer, which allowed me to pursue the proton therapy exclusively.

I titled this chapter "How to Join the Balloon Club." In order to provide an extra measure of safety the balloon is inserted "up
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 89

 yours," and then a large syringe of water is pumped into the balloon. In addition to this, sixteen ounces of water is to be consumed so that it will protect the bladder. I had to go through this ordeal 44 times. If you can envision being invaded by these medical instruments 44 times, you may understand the treatments.

Still, I think it is the best treatment that is available in the world today. I saw people from all over the world at Loma Linda taking these treatments. They came there from Australia to Alaska, from Argentina to Germany. At Loma Linda there are many kinds of cancer being treated—brain tumors, lung cancer, throat cancer, breast cancer, and many others. This hospital is also one of the best for heart transplants and heart treatment.

The people at Loma Linda were super and delightful in all of our associations. The personnel were supportive and did all they could to make my stay comfortable and enjoyable. We even laughed about being bona fide members of "the balloon club." After all, you only have to get in your pod (a specially formed shell that encases you) and let the therapist and God do the rest.

While at Loma Linda, I placed my full confidence in grandson Michael in managing the ranch duties. Since there was more rain than we have had in fifty years in the spring and summer of 2007, it presented problems of working cattle and swathing down hay. A big thanks goes out to Michael for hanging tough and getting the job done under dire circumstances. I finished the proton radiation treatments at the end of May 2007 and returned home in early June. It was an unusual experience, and I have no regrets—but I would not like to do this again! I said my goodbyes to Loma Linda University Medical Center and to my pod and said hello to Oklahoma and my home.
CHAPTER 13

LIFESTYLE AND POLITICS

Politics was always a big subject in our household, and so

some thoughts about it are appropriate. For most of the  
20th century the Democrats controlled our county and our entire rural area, with only a handful of Republicans in the area. In that handful were the Rectors, the Vignals, and my brother-in-law Houston Cope.

Both sets of grandparents had good reasons for their party affiliations, and they expressed their views. My Democratic grandparents (S. J. and Nettie) argued that the Democrats would help farmers with some subsidies and maybe even ensure our survival, while my Republican grandparents wanted no part of giving up freedom for a few dollars and a subsidy.

I remember the old Triple A program and the controls placed on acres limiting what and how much you could plant during the Depression. I even remember the killing of cows to control volume and help raise prices. I owned one calf in 1937, and I sure didn't want any part in that kind of shooting business. I got to sell my calf for ten cents per pound, and the calf weighed 410 pounds. The $41 I received was used to purchase a bedroom suite that had a dresser and drawers to put my things

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 in. Money was tight, but occasionally when election time came around, and your parents were Democrats you could hand out political cards and get $3. I did this for County Superintendent Henry Dacus at Quartermaster School in 1938. Three dollars meant I was in tall cotton with big money.

Years later while living in Weatherford, I got involved in a political campaign in a minor way when Ed Berrong ran for state senator. Ed wanted me to work the Colter precinct for him. He offered to put gas in my car at the Lyle Sensentaffer Conoco station in Weatherford. I refused the gas. I had previously gone out and visited the Clifts, Dunlaps, Larimores, Rennels, and Tippenses; and they agreed to vote for Ed Berrong.

T. E. receiving an award for 20 years of service to the Custer Co. Conservation District.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 93

 I told Ed there was no need to drive out another time because when all my Colter neighbors told me they were going to vote for him, that was enough. Ed wasn't so sure, but when it was all over and the votes were tallied, the result was Ed Berrong 62 votes and the opponent 0—an historic conclusion Ed liked to brag about.

In the political world today there is a great deal of difference between the two parties. I switched from Democrat to Republican mostly because of the immoral and liberal agenda being promoted by some of the Democrats. Patsy J. changed parties several years before I did.

The fact that I serve as a District Director of the Natural Resources and Conservation Board puts me in contact with many Democrats. I wholeheartedly support the goals of this conservation area, and that is the preservation and development of soil and water. Where would we be today without flood control structures or terraces and grasses? I don't think these developments would have happened without USDA government help.
CHAPTER 14

WHAT IS AGRICULTURE?

What is agriculture? Simple. It puts food on the table and clothes on your body! Since most of my adult life has been spent in agriculture, I think it appropriate to reveal some of the truths and misconceptions that some people have about this profession.

One Southwestern State College professor told me one time that there was no future in agriculture for my students. The agriculture picture was too big for this academic mind to conceive. Then there was our high school counselor who, in a report at our annual F.F.A. banquet, said: "We don't have anyone going into agriculture." There were students enrolling in agriculture studies at Oklahoma State University that year, but she didn't count that as "agriculture"—just college or university studies. My district supervisor Ralph Dreesen was in attendance that evening. He asked me later, "What school did she come from?" If you lived adjacent to Southwestern for awhile, you could see that vocational education and agriculture were not in Southwestern's vocabulary.

There was a class distinction in Weatherford High School between the rural kids, especially the gals, and the local downtown

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 merchants' kids. The town gals were snobs and thought of themselves more highly than they ought. On one occasion we had been working with animals, and one of my ag students entered the English class with a peculiar smell. The town snobs

Harvest Time with Steam Thresher. Lucien Rector's farm. ca. 1928.

began making fun of the individual and his smell. At this point, Betty Steiner let them know that they didn't know s—t from sheep dip. (Dip was the smell.)

It has taken a long time to progress from the hayseed-frayed-straw-hat picture to today's modern operator, who probably has more total knowledge than that college professor teaching at the university. Many today do not have a clue as to what is required to put a loaf of bread on the table.

My grocer let me know one time that he received 6 cents per loaf, and the producer of the wheat ingredients received 5 cents, and the wrapper around the bread also cost as much. My grocer said all he did was furnish the shelf space and ring
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 97

 it up at the cash register. Did the wheat producer do more, he wanted to know.

There are so many who think that the ag producer is wealthy and sits up there in an air conditioned tractor that costs a bundle, and with no worries. There have been digs and derogatory statements about farmers with their air-conditioned tractors. After receiving one of these smart alec remarks one day, I asked my friend if she had air conditioning at her office, and she replied, "Of course." Then I asked her, "What do you do, if it's 100 degrees and the A/C goes off?" She replied, "We go home." Is there a double standard here? Why the derogatory statement about a farmer's A/C? I would not comment on or make fun of or envy anyone for having air conditioning in his place of work.

What does it take to be a farm manager in today's modern economic world? It is almost impossible to describe the total knowledge required, because of such variations in the work of

Tractor Era Arrives. T. E. Sr. and Uncle John Rector. ca. 1929
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T. E. Jr. and grandson Michael. Champion calf bred on Tippens Ranch. 1992.

the farmer. The need is there to know animal science, health, and genetics. You need to know electrical and hydraulic mechanics. You need to know soils and fertilizers. What about soil conservation and water problems? What about the knowledge of grasses, both warm and cool season, annual and perennial? Weeds and herbicides? Pesticides, insecticides, fungicides? Plant and animal diseases? Do you know what minerals will get the job done? And what about shop skills, gas and electric welding? There is a need to know about alfalfa from planting to making hay. Don't forget about accounting skills and making good business investments and money management. The list of knowledge needed could go on and on.

Furthermore, all this must be done on time. Timing is all; so don't schedule such things as weddings or other social events during wheat sowing or harvest times. Got it?
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 Agriculture is grass growing, and I have always contended that if you can grow two blades of grass where only one grew before, you can double your production. This may sound stupid, but I will continue to advocate it because it works.

There has always been a need for cows in Western Oklahoma, and I personally believe that there is no way a family could survive out here without them. In the early days of 1899-1900, both Grandpa Smith (called Uncle Ben) and Grandpa S. J. Tippens (called Uncle Jack) were on their way

Tippens Farm and Ranch. Centennial Recognition. 1999.
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 to proving up their land claims. Uncle Ben was farther along and closer to finishing up his claim. At this time the Smith claim was located only one mile northwest of Old Hammon, which was little more than a small trading post. Old Hammon had a supply store, a livery stable, two shops, a church, and a few houses. The small village of Old Hammon was located a mile north of the present intersection of Highways 33 and 34. Uncle Ben and Uncle Jack met here on one occasion, and Grandpa Jack let it be known that he was in dire need of a cow

Celebrating Centennial Recognition. Sam Tippens, Shea Tippens, Terry Tippens, Doug Tippens, Casey Tippens Delaney, Patsy J. and T. E. Jr. Nov. 25, 1999.
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 101

 that was giving milk. He asked Uncle Ben if he knew of anyone who might have such a cow.

Uncle Ben said he had a cow giving enough milk and could afford to let her go. Grandpa Tippens told Uncle Ben that he had a roan milking shorthorn cow that would have a calf soon, but the cow had a knocked down hip, which meant that one hip was lower than the other. Uncle Ben looked the situation over and traded even up, cow for cow. Grandpa S. J. told me what a great help this was and that a warm friendship was established between these two early day pioneers.

In 1943 Patsy J. was visiting with her Grandpa (Uncle Ben), and he told her this story. I confronted Grandpa S. J. (Uncle Jack) about this, and he verified it. S. J. let it be known that he always had a warm spot in his heart for Uncle Ben Smith. We place a flower every year on Grandpa Ben and Grandma Lydia's grave that is located just across the aisle from S. J. and Nettie's grave.
CHAPTER 15

HEAT AND DROUGHTS

Ihave had a hard time forgetting the heat and drought of the '30's, especially the temperatures of 1936. Today when I watch the records on the weather, I see that the 110-degree days in that summer of 1936 still hold many records. I also remember some of the things we did to cope and also how we managed the livestock. Our air conditioning consisted of wetting a sheet and placing it on the south screen door. We then would lie on the floor hoping for a breeze to come through the wet sheet. I often wondered why so many houses were built with twelve-foot ceilings instead of eight-foot ceilings in those days, of course, the reason being taller ceilings made for cooler rooms.

The pastures were burned up in the '30's, and soil was moving and collecting in the fence lines. The sky became dark on more than one occasion, and part of the soil in the sky was from eastern Colorado, eastern New Mexico, and the Texas Panhandle.

It was necessary to find places to take cattle for grazing. The section line roads had more grass than the pastures. We had two horses that were suitable for herding cattle. One, named Beauty, was old and fat; and the other was an old nag that had a protruding backbone. There was competition for Beauty because

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 you could lie back on that soft back and rest. So the first one to get the bridle on Beauty meant he had a better day.

We would start the herd to the north, and usually it was fairly easy unless a bull decided to do his thing of herding in the opposite direction. Most cowboys know what I am talking about. We would take the herd north one mile, and then go west a mile, and then turn them around and return home.

In 1952-53 the drought was so severe that many just sold their herds and obtained jobs in Wichita, Oklahoma City, or in Colorado. In the 109 years of our ranch operation, this is the only time I know of that we didn't have cattle on the Tippens Ranch. In the Weatherford area, Ralph Crall sent some of his cattle to Eastern Oklahoma. When those cattle returned home, they weren't in as good a shape as those that remained home. Jess Lowry, down south of Weatherford, sold his registered Shorthorns for ten cents per pound, and the cows only weighed 800 pounds. There were several in the Hammon area who made it through by milking cows. Survival always seems to revert to taking care of the cows. If you can provide for the mama cows, they will take care of you.
CHAPTER 16

TRAGEDY AND DEATHS

Iwould not like my family members to think that I have no memory or compassion for not mentioning the deaths of our loved ones. I do remember often those who gave up their lives at an early age. One of these losses not mentioned earlier is Everett Baggett, Jr., who was killed when eighteen feet of power line wrapped around his plane's propeller. He was killed instantly in the back bay at Ocean Springs, Mississippi.

What suffering—and yet what good memories—we have of my first granddaughter, Heather Tippens. Heather's good attitude and toughness were remarkable under such dire circumstances as she battled leukemia. I will always remember the day we moved fish from one pond to another. Heather called the fish "shishes." We loved every minute of being with her.

The loss of granddaughter Emma McDonald, with even a shorter life than Heather's, was a terrible tragedy to endure. Patsy J. was so distraught at both these losses that she would have easily given up her own life in exchange, if that were possible. And what suffering our beloved son-in-law Mike McDonald suffered. Mike was super, with so much talent. He had both wit and wisdom. In my opinion, he had reached the top rung in

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 the ladder of success, and only God can answer our question of why. The Mike McDonald Scholarship at Oklahoma Christian University is a resounding success; so maybe, just maybe, God has a plan we don't know about or understand.

We should think on happier things in life than cancer, but we have to accept the fact that it is real and does affect and disrupt the lives of many good people. I have been unable to forget the meeting of Donna Wright in the foyer of the church one Sunday morning in Hammon. We exchanged pleasantries of the day, and I asked how she was doing. She indicated that she felt pretty good. I knew that cancer was rearing its ugly head, and my heart felt a heaviness for her. I thought "what a tragedy for such a beautiful person," if she succumbs to this malady.

We can look back and remember the suffering that results from cancer in both Mike McDonald and in Donna Vignal Wright; but there comes a time when our Lord wants us to look forward and not backward; and that's what my daughter Kathy and her new husband Mike Wright have done. We are happy that they found each other; we are happy to welcome Mike Wright into the family. We wish Kathy and him the best.
CHAPTER 17

  P

VACATIONS AND EXCURSIONS

My parents were not able to offer many vacations. I don't know whether it was a low priority or a lack of money. We didn't even go to places in state. My parents did go to the Chicago World's Fair, without any children. Uncle Claude and Aunt Miriam Fly did offer to take me on a vacation in the summer of 1938. They planned a trip into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains north of Red River, New Mexico. Uncle Claude hired a Mexican guide named José with two mules that carried all our gear, including a tent. We took a trail northeast of Questa, New Mexico, at Cabresto Lake, and walked more than four hours to a place below the mountain peaks called the Latirs where there are six lakes located at an altitude of 8,600 feet. I climbed the highest Latirs peak (12,700 feet) to the west. It was far above the timberline.

The lakes had large, beautiful fish (30 inches long and more), but they were very difficult to catch. We spent about ten days at this beautiful mountain getaway. My cousin Maurita was only five years old at the time, but she knows today how grateful I am for this vacation and trip.

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 I had not been out of the continental U.S. until my tenure in the U.S. Air Force, and then it was a short trip across the Rio Grande into Matamoros, Mexico. There was talk on the air base that passes were going to be cancelled because there was too much participation with "the world's oldest profession." Pat and I decided to go over into Old Mexico at least one time before passes were cancelled. We hadn't been in Matamoros more than thirty minutes when a young Mexican boy, who had to be only ten years old, approached Pat and me with this proposition: "Come see my seester." His "seester" was located next door in a stall at the rear of the bar. Pat said, "What nerve!" and gave me a hard "hip bump" indicating that this is not a good idea.

At the same time our captain had gone into this bar to do some inspection and personal investigation. The captain hadn't been there over five minutes when one of the gals swiped his two-bar cap, ran to the back stalls, and dared him to come back and retrieve his cap. It took quite a bit of persuasion, army directives, and threats to get his cap back. One week later, all of our passes were cancelled to Old Mexico and Matamoros. The reason? You guessed it.

The only major vacation our family was able to take was a trip through Colorado to Salt Lake City, Utah; Jackson Hole, Wyoming; Yellowstone National Park; and Reno, Nevada, in the summer of 1966. We had a stop in Yosemite after going around Lake Tahoe, and then we wandered into Livermore, California. After a visit with George and Mayola Kerr in Livermore, it was on to visit Hayden and Lois Morgan in Bakersfield. While at Hayden's, Warren and Juanita Morgan came, and we all had a good time. At the time, Hayden had
T. E. Tippens, Jr. 109

 cancer and needed a trip to the John Wayne Cancer Institute, so we all went to Los Angeles to see what could be done. The diagnosis was not good.

On a lighter note we made many trips to see ballgames with family and friends. It is a special treat for me when my friend and companion, Allene, accompanies me on any trip. My driving improves as well as my attitude. It is a joy when we go to a ballgame, or go shopping, or share an upside down cake, or even a rib-eye steak at the Flying W. Loneliness seems to disappear when we are having fun.

There are also special sights and scenes to enjoy when taking a trip through the Tippens Ranch, but only if you will take the time to look, listen, and smell. Have you taken the time to stop and smell the newly cut alfalfa? Have you ever smiled as you watched a black calf nurse its mama, as it got white milk and foam all over its black nose? Have you watched that squirrel secure a walnut and hustle to hide it for winter?

Have you heard the rustling of the leaves of that giant cottonwood tree down on Panther Creek when the wind comes whistling through the branches? Have you seen the honeybee suck and lap the nectar from that alfalfa bloom, while the monarch butterfly competes close by? Do you get a thrill in watching the golden wave of wheat blow in our Oklahoma wind?

What a beauty there is on an early morn when we see the sparkling dew. It's like diamonds appearing on every blade of grass. What a beautiful sight when a covey of quail comes flying in and lands right in our front yard. When I see geese in their V formation, I know God is there because he made that alignment. Who else? Because geese do not have that much brainpower.
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 How many have watched a new-born calf come to life and seen the mama lick it dry in freezing temperatures and have it up nursing in thirty minutes? How many have turned the earth over and have a rain shower fall from the sky, and then get to smell that special aroma that radiates from the soil? What a smell! Do you know what causes that smell?

Do you know how and why a black cow can eat green grass and give white milk that comes from red blood? What a machine a cow is! This is just another of God's handiwork.

Another of God's handiwork is the creation of man:

By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis 1:26-27; 2:7; and 3:19)

The verse says that man comes from the earth—from dust—and to dust we shall return. This is so profound and accurate that I have always wanted to analyze the chemical components of this dust and to do the same for our bodies. This is what I found years ago while studying chemistry. Dust is composed of 2Kal Si3 O8 \+ H2O + NA, Ca, P, K, S, Mg, Fe and a few other trace minerals. And guess what? The human body has exactly this same chemical composition as dust or soil. If you were never told, Kal Si3 is kaolin and silica (clay and sand). So that's what you are made of, proving God's creation in both man and land. There will be no charge for this chemical/religious instruction. As I write, I have no chemical reference book or laboratory at hand, so pardon me if my total composition is off a bit.
CONCLUSION

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Ido not have persuasive words; but in a simple and straightforward manner I would like to let it be known that I love my family, the neighbors, our church members, and all those good people who stand up for "In God We Trust." I dearly love all the mothers of our grand- and great grandchildren. I toss a bouquet to all my daughters-in-law whom I love dearly. My daughters-in-law have said many times, "You did good." May I use that phrase and salute my five sons and only daughter by saying, "Well done. You did good."

As the lights begin to flicker and the vapor begins to disappear, and as these sayings come to an end, I say, "God bless, and I hope you might feel some comfort and even joy in reading this essay." May I quote for the good of all a part of Colossians 3:12-14:

As God's chosen people I pray that we all might clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. And also that we might forgive any grievances we might have against one another.

In my Redeemer's name, Amen. Thanks for just a few memories. T. E. T.

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PHOTO ESSAY

Floyd Bush and Ruth Rector Farrar. Alumni Banquet. 1988.

(l. to r.) Mayola Tippens Kerr, Ila Tippens White, T. E. Tippens, Jr.;  
(seated) T. E. Tippens, Sr.

Pat and Ed's 50th Wedding Anniversary: Mom, Dad and the kids

(Standing l. to r.) Terry Tippens, Douglas Tippens, Tom Tippens, Darryl Tippens

(Seated, l. to r.) Joe Tippens, Patsy J. Tippens, T. E. Tippens, Kathy (McDonald) Wright

Six OSU Graduates.

(Back row, l. to r.) Doug, Joe, Tom. (Front row, l to r.) Sam, T. E. Jr., Terry.

The Family.

(Standing l. to r.) Joe Tippens, Terry Tippens, Ranet Tippens, Doug Tippens, Tom

Tippens, Bobbie Tippens, Mike McDonald, Darryl Tippens

(Seated l. to r.) Mindy Tippens, Donna Tippens, Patsy J. Tippens, T. E. Tippens, Kathy

(McDonald) Wright, Anne Tippens

The Clan at the Tippens Ranch.

(standing, l. to r.) T. E. Jr., T. E. Sr., Mayola Tippens, Floyd Bush, S. J. (Grandpa), Doris Bush, Ruth Shriner, Ruth Tippens, Dick Shriner, Ila Tippens, Janan Tippens, Olive Jean Tippens. (Lower right, l. to r.) Mondessa Shriner Swift, Tommy Jack Tippens, Rex Baggett
