Bonds of Youth

I suppose we all think our times were the best of times.  Each generation speaks of the good old days.  But I think what we are saying is that we feel a bond and a connection to the days of our youth or to those days when things seemed to be right with the world.  As the years fly past and change inevitably robs us of the constant security we once thought we had, we think about those days when things seemed simpler; when our attitudes and preferences seemed to be shared by most of the people we knew. 

For in our youth we often assumed that others felt, thought, and believed as we did.  But time and experience eventually proves us wrong.  For some who are individualists, change is more of an adventure than a concern.

Yet for most there becomes a great need to find like minded people who will reinforce their values and reassure them that they are right to be suspicious of the new and the different.  These folks tend to line up behind a figure or institution of authority hoping to siphon strength or find a shield therein.

But time waits for no man and we find ourselves rushing ever swiftly down the years.  Some like to think that they plan their lives and are in control.  I laugh at the thought.  For no matter how carefully one plans or attempts to control, time is the ultimate control.  Time will get you every time.

Beyond the constraints of time there is the imagination, the dream, and the memory.  Although time is the ultimate control, within our imaginations reside memories and dreams.  For some people these are considered “time” wasters to be avoided for the sake of chasing the rabbit; that thing just beyond their reach.

But what of the past?  Were those days of our youth and the relationships formed then merely a waste of time?  What today can we benefit or enjoy from the good old days?  It may be that bonds formed in tender years offer a lesson in our ways forward.  The innocence with which friendships and memories were made may serve as a model for establishing new bonds or to soften the harsher realities of aging and coming to terms with our mortality.

Connecting with or confronting the past comes with risk.  Most likely outcomes from visiting with or re-establishing relationships with folks from our youth is disappointment or surprise.  The common elements which we once thought formed a bond are likely absent and often rejected outright. 

However, like any endeavor of value, there is a gem there waiting and well worth the time required to find it.  So be a prospector.  Gold is there for the taking.

James Middleton

January 14, 2014

Margie West Coleman: Momma’s Friend

Margie and Momma met in the small rural school at Bryant, Oklahoma and found a lasting friendship which would span across all the years of their lives.  In each other they must have seen glimpses of their own spirit and  potential.
 
Margie beamed with personality and inner strength.  Berneice had sparkling eyes and a sharp poetic wit.  Together they shared classrooms, songs, poems, and mischief.   Both proved to be very bright students as well.  Although poverty and an unfortunate home life took Berneice out of school after 8th grade, their warm community friendship flourished as they grew. And as they matured, each found a loving husband and raised healthy children, in the nearby town of Henryetta, living as neighbors for many years.

Eventually, work took Berneice and her family miles away.  But the miles were no barrier to this friendship or their interest in one another’s lives.  Through frequent exchange of letters, cards, and occasional visits back home Berneice kept up-to-date with Margie.

As the years and their ages advanced, their meetings became most common around funerals for other friends and relatives.  Berneice maintained close ties to her home community, traveling there often to visit and to grieve.

When Margie’s husband Alvin passed away at an early age, Berneice and husband Everett attended the funeral service and were humbled by the overflowing throng of mourners in attendance.
When Everett passed away, there was Margie attending the service and offering warm hugs for Berneice, her adult children, and grandchildren.

Margie’s occasional phone calls to widow Berneice over the following years were a welcome and comforting experience.  Eventually Berneice’s hearing loss and dementia made the phone calls impossible.  I was there during the last call, gently taking the phone from Momma’s hand and thanking Margie for the call.  By her sweet thoughts and warm wishes I knew Margie understood this would be her last call to Berneice.

Finally, Berneice passed away and their earthly friendship came to a close.  What a beautiful feeling it was when Margie sought me out in the crowd at the funeral home before Momma’s service began.  Her wonderful smile and loving presence will always remain an important memory in honor of both their lives.  Their connection to each other never lost its importance.

And now Margie’s time in Henryetta has come to an end.  I know there will be many who will attend her funeral service and who will recall similar relationships and kindness shared with Margie.  Hers was an exceptional life.  I am proud to have known her through the eyes and the memories of my Momma, Berneice Childs Middleton.

James Middleton
January 11, 2014

Impressions Upon The Soul Long Ago

Early impressions at a very young age are sometimes much more powerful and long lasting than those experienced after we mature beyond those years when our minds and our hearts were like a luxurious sponge easily absorbing sensitive moments and retaining the memory in great detail and strong emotion.

Recently I learned that the mother of a friend and former co-worker had passed away.  She asked a group of mutual friends for suggestions on the perfect song to have sung at the funeral.  Because of my personal  progress beyond traditional Christian thought, my first response was to simply read the suggestions of others and express my condolences in a different way. 

However, the memory of my own mother who died about four years ago caused me to pause and give better consideration to the question about the perfect song to hear for a mother’s funeral service.  A love of music and especially old gospel hymns was something mom and I had shared.

As I thought about meaningful songs, I recalled a song that I had heard for the first time in 1983 while attending the funeral of my aunt, Hudy Dodge Middleton, in Henryetta, Oklahoma.  Her death had been unexpected.  The funeral was held in her local church.  My four sisters and I met in Bartlesville and drove to Henryetta for the funeral.

There was something very special and intimate in the way a trio of women of the congregation presented the song, “Sheltered In The Arms Of God”.  Their harmony was wonderful.  The experience of their music has kept that song somewhere in my memory ever since, although I may have only heard it or a reference to it a couple of times since then.  But from time to time the thought of that song, the lovely voices of the trio, and the sad time in our family has come to me in brief and reverent memory.

So I searched YouTube and found many different versions of “Sheltered In The Arms Of God”.  None could quite match the beauty and subtle qualities I recall from Aunt Hudy’s service.  The one which best recreated the mood and spirit of that day is this one by Heritage Singers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmNLa3_PSn8

Having searched for and found this song, I submitted it as my suggestion to the friend.

The experience of searching YouTube and sampling various songs triggered deeply held memories and emotions associated with my earliest recollections of attending a funeral service.  This memory is closely tied to my most close and personal connection to my mother, Lillian Berneice Childs Middleton.  The memory is generally vague.  I am not sure whose funeral service it was, but it was held at the Buchanan Funeral Home in Henryetta sometime in the 1950s.  The critical importance of the memory does not lie in the details of the service but in the experience of sharing that time seated beside mom along a row at or near the front of the chapel.  It was as if I could feel her emotion of the moment as a small group of three or four people sang “This World Is Not My Home”.  The strong scent of roses and the sound and lyrics of the song will always take me back to that important time shared with my mother.  I searched YouTube again and found many versions of “This World Is Not My Home”.   This version by the Students of Charity Youth Bible School Choir most nearly represents the tone and beauty of my original experience:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydPJ5QaPFQ0

Today, I exchanged text messages with my 30 year-old son who has been on the road for several weeks.  We shared encouraging thoughts about our family relationships.  I told about photos, from the 1980s and 1990s, of he and his sister, that I had been scanning.  He wrote “We had a good childhood, much better than most”.   I replied “The years passed very quickly”.  He texted back “Yes, I already have gray hairs on my head, and in my beard….I guess I have an old soul”.

Yes, I guess we do have old souls.  Our lives are eternally linked to each other and to all those who have contributed to our DNA through generations.

The ability to reflect on my most powerful and cherished memories is something I treasure and exercise regularly.

James Middleton

January 7, 2014

The Sweetest Sooner Win!

I have been an Oklahoma Sooner fan since the 1950s.  Like a lot of native Oklahomans, I was raised in the culture of both Oklahoma Sooner football and the unique history that is Oklahoma.  My family roots are in Okmulgee County, Oklahoma per my sister, Geraldine Middleton Williams’ legacy book recording of the Middleton/Morgan/Childs/Eddington family histories, “Converging In Okmulgee County, Oklahoma”, on file in the Henryetta Public Library and elsewhere.

My first personal exposure to the excitement of Sooner football came during my elementary years at Roosevelt Grade School in Henryetta when a classmate, Gary Merryman, brought to school a football autographed by many of the members of a recent OU National Championship team.  That experience brought the true greatness of national pride in Oklahoma Football to life for me and it has been a factor of great importance in my personal life ever since.

In the years to follow, I listened to most Sooner football games on the radio.  During the fall season of 1963, the intensity of my Sooner enthusiasm became firmly established.  Saturday afternoons for the next several years found me washing cars, changing oil, and fixing flats at my Dad’s  By-Pass Texaco gas station in Chelsea, Oklahoma.  The excitement of Bob Barry’s radio voice held me in absolute command as I went about my duties.  Through the 1960s and decades to follow, those radio broadcasts were such a vital connection to Sooner football for me and I am sure to many others of my generation.

Some of the most memorable games involved the greatest names in college football history.  I recall how devastating were the runs of Gayle Sayers.  And all the intensity of the OU/Texas games.  Sometimes I pity the young fans of today who have the luxury of the high definition flat screen television broadcasts of practically every OU game.  Back in the 1960s through the 1980s I desperately struggled to find a radio station within range of my AM radio at home or in the car in order to hear each game.  Sometimes it was not possible or perhaps the reception would come and go allowing only occasional updates.

But the most exciting and surely the most pleasurable of all the Sooner victories have come during those seasons when the teams were challenged by injury or during rebuilding years when they would sometimes lose to teams they should have defeated and yet find a way to beat a supposed championship team or a team assumed to be an overwhelming favorite.

Well the Sugar Bowl game on January 2, 2014 must go down in my log book as the sweetest and most satisfying game I can recall.  Of course, it is important to note that my memory may not be that great anymore.  But the pregame hype, the newspaper report in the Houston Chronicle, the ESPN clowns all climbing on the Alabama/McCarron bandwagon was so disheartening and yet, a fantastic setup for what was to come.  They couldn’t have scripted the program any better for all of us Sooner Fans.

I haven’t screamed, chortled, hollered, yelled, or laughed more in years!  Yes my ATT U-verse on the flat screen TV allowed me to enjoy every second of the action.  And like so many other OU Sooner fans, I was not truly able to relax and accept the outcome until Geneo Grissom scooped up the fumble caused by Eric Striker’s stripping of McCarron.  What a hilarious end to a classic Sooner Magic performance.  BOOMER SOONER!!

The Piano Teacher

Following is a story which has been posted on the back of a piano recital program for several years. The recitals are held each year in early December. Here is the musical legacy of my dear wife Judy DeMoss Middleton:

The Piano Teacher

Judy began piano lessons at age four in the small town of Independence, Kansas. She liked her first teacher very much but the lady soon moved away. After studying under another teacher, Mildred Dean, for a number of years, Judy began, at age thirteen, a long and productive time of study with Miss Regina Schicke, a highly accomplished pianist who was prominent in community music organizations and activities.

Miss Schicke was employed at Hille Music, a longtime family owned store, where musical instruments, accessories, records, and sheet music were sold and a variety of music lessons were taught. Hille Music was located in the heart of town on a prominent corner where shiny band instruments and lovely pianos were always on display in the large windows that wrapped around the entire store front. Judy loved going to the music store each week to take lessons, and a few years later, worked there part-time while a high school and college student.

Miss Schicke eventually married Bob Hille, son of the owners of Hille Music. The couple operated the business themselves and enjoyed many years as community leaders in all things musical. As Mrs. Bob Hille, Regina continued to teach Judy on piano and organ into her college and adult years.

When Judy went away to Pittsburg State University to continue her education in Accounting, she also continued to study piano and organ. A high point in her music experience came when she played the very large and beautiful pipe organ in the university music auditorium as part of the music department’s recital program.

One of her first major purchases, following college graduation, was a very nice organ which she found at Hille Music. The instrument produced such rich sound quality that Bob Hille arranged to borrow it on one occasion for use in a community production of Handel’s Messiah.

Many years later, Judy made another equally significant purchase at Hille Music. She purchased the baby grande piano on which the students in today’s program are taught in the living room of her home.

On each occasion, while shopping for and appraising the organ and the piano, Judy relied on the expert ears and advice of her parents, David and Shirley DeMoss, both skillful musicians, before making the final decision. In honor of her parents and those fine piano teachers who taught, corrected, and encouraged her in the development of strong piano and organ skills, Judy’s piano room is adorned with memorabilia from her home town, the handiwork of her parents, and a painting by Nelle Reneau, Judy’s beloved art teacher.

The opportunity to share the music and art heritage of her life with children and adults of her community brings much pride and happiness to the teacher.

By James Middleton
December 9, 2007

Garland Benton: Keeper of Special Places

For all who passed that way along the edge of town or were fortunate enough to have lived there, Kraft’s Pasture holds a special place in our hearts. Beyond the railroad track it beckoned us to come and follow the meandering paths of dairy cows across a bucolic pasture toward the distant tree line to that swimming hole on the far side of the pasture. Beneath shady trees of oak and cottonwood on banks of red and gray shale and brown sandstone the naturally formed pool lay nestled in a bend of Coal Creek at the foot of the rugged hill to the west. Many a young man of Henryetta knew the place and swam there. For all of us it was and is, no doubt, a very special place.

But for one of us, the aura and the intrigue of that place was much more. For Garland Benton, mere memories of those days were not enough. Garland always held big dreams. Owning and occupying this place was the ultimate dream. And own it he did, that and even more of the surrounding area.

What was it about the land beyond the tracks that held such appeal to Garland and so many others who grew up there during those golden days of the 1950s and 1960s? Within the boundaries of that property were many of the elements that appeal to the outdoorsman. The pasture and brush made good cover for quail, dove, and rabbits. The woods along the creek and up the hillside held coon, squirrel, and various other critters. A variety of fish, frogs, turtles, and snakes called Coal Creek home. As the seasons changed Kraft’s Pasture offered new views and new adventures. Spring was always just around the corner.

It is both heartwarming and sad to know how much Kraft’s Pasture meant to Garland. Heartwarming because he preserved that special place and sad that his time there has been cut short. Though we can never bring back those days spent beyond the tracks, we can always be grateful for this unique individual, The Keeper of Special Places.

James Middleton
December 4, 2013

A Grandmother's Love

A Grandmother’s Love

There is something special about a grandmother’s love,
For it is unique in every detail.
Known only to a grandmother and those upon whom bestowed,
A grandmother’s love is of the deepest kind.
Its emotions run deep with love and high with pride.
Unbounded by silly things like rules and homework,
A grandmother’s love is focused on one lucky child at a time.
Perhaps only a moment here and there in person,
But hours of her alone time are devoted to those kids,
Telling friends every detail of accomplishments,
Showing pictures and sharing it all on Facebook.
So children grab hold of her hand and gaze into her eyes.
Keep her smile in your heart and her warmth in your memory,
For her time is fleeting and soon only her memory will remain.
Yes, a grandmother’s love is special and lives within each heart.

By: James Middleton October 23, 2013