When I was a kid growing up, my brothers and I spent a week each summer with my maternal grandparents. They lived in Ringgold, located near the Texas/Oklahoma Stateline. We also routinely visited with our parents and other extended family members at either Christmas or Thanksgiving.
My grandparent's home was a rambling old turn-of-the-century house with a wraparound front porch. The water supply for the house was generated by a windmill. The house featured a storm cellar that could be accessed from either inside the house or from the outside. The house also had a screened in porch on the side of the house that permitted entry into the dining room. That was the primary door that people always used because it was closest to the wide unpaved driveway where people parked their cars.
The home also had two doors in the front of the house. One entered the living room, the other a bedroom. At large family gatherings, most of the cousins wanted to sleep in the bedroom with the outside door. That way we could opt to sit on the front porch late into the night without parents or grandparents knowing we were still up.
Of course, that had to do with our perception as children. I'm doubtful that much ever took place that adults were unaware of, but one's perception becomes their reality. Spending time with grandparents was a favorite experience.
There was a fenced in area next to the garage where one of my mother's brothers kept his horse. The horse's name was Jane. Actually, my grandparents were custodians for the horse. My uncle and his family lived elsewhere. Grandpa took care of the horse.
Somehow the week we stayed with our grandparents during the summer also coincided with Vacation Bible School at the Baptist Church. It was also a fun time. As I recall, the church's pastor was always a seminary student from Southwest Seminary in Fort Worth. There was a pretty frequent rotation of pastors, but they were always young and fun to be around.
The rambling old home in Ringgold is no longer there. I can't remember how old my grandparents were when they sold their home and moved to Nocona. However, my childhood memories are all tied to the house in Ringgold. That home was destroyed by fire several years before the same fate fell on a lot of the town.
A 2006 article in Texas Monthly was entitled "Gone In 15 Minutes". The tagline read, "That's how long it took a massive wildfire to destroy the North Texas town of Ringgold on New Year's Day. But for the residents who lost everything—and the brave volunteers who risked their lives—putting the disaster behind them will take a bit longer".
I suspect that as long as I draw breath, memories of the my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins, and the fun-filled times we shared with extended family in Ringgold will continue to populate my head.
I'm hopeful the memories my grandchildren hold of their childhood years and beyond will be equally rewarding.
All My Best!
Don
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