Monday, March 14, 2011

Harder than I thought

This is harder than I thought. Or, maybe more precisely, I’m making this harder than I have to. I’m trying not to work on this. I work on other things. I finished one assignment—a social history of Houston in 750 words—almost impossible! I did the proofs on article for Houston History making it a much bigger job than necessary. I’m going to the Organization of American Historians annual meeting later this week. Monday, I’ll hop on another assignment from Houston History. I’ve done gardening at “the house without a yard.” (See my other blog  http://trillap.blogspot.com/ for more about that.)Do I sound busy? I should sound like I’m stalling since that is exactly what I’m doing.
            I have the letters sorted by year; I have 1933 by month; June by date. I read the first one. It is the only long handwritten one—and is it ever long! I transcribed it—the paper is too frail to stand handling. It’s almost 3000 words written by hand in one afternoon. I'll share some of the details.
            Now that’s something to look forward to.
            Next time.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

More about Lewis

What a treat. I’ve decided that before I decide what to do about this trove, I need to read the letters. So, slowly, I’m starting. And as I said—what a treat.

            For lots of reasons. First, Lewis, as I’m beginning to think of him more and more, was an excellent writer. The letters are fun to read.
            But, for me, of course, there is more. Lewis died when I was 19 as I’ve mentioned. I’m getting to know him, and my mother as well, for the young woman who is the recipient of the letters and clearly the object of so much love springs alive from the pages as well.
            As I’m reading, I don’t have a great deal to blog about—although I may tell some good stories as I uncover them.  I have two I’m thinking about. But meanwhile here’s a bit more about the man I’m getting to know.
            He grew up on a farm in rocky, dry Texas not far from Abilene. He wrote a book about his boyhood there—Nubbin Ridge. It was published the month after he died in 1960.
            And here’s one story about one of my sons. He knew his father’s father—Grampa—who was a reticent though loving man. One day Patrick said to me, “I feel like I know Granddaddy (Lewis) so much better than I know Grampa, because I knew Granddaddy when he was a boy.” He’d been reading Nubbin Ridge.
             Meanwhile, meet Lewis as a dapper young man. Isn't he dashing?

     
And here's more about Lewis--       


I like the Cowboy Directory, but it does have the year of college graduation wrong. It was 1933. I’ll contact them and get it right.