Ma Bartlett and Da Boys

Ma Bartlett and Da Boys

This photo is of my great grandmother, Lillie Hufstutler Bartlett and her sons. From left to right: Lillie ( Ma Bartlett or as her grandchildren knew her - Grannie B), Monroe Bartlett, Vernon Bartlett, Willis Bartlett and Ace Bartlett. Notice Uncle Vernon has his ever present cowboy hat in his hand. Willis was my grandfather. My mother's father. Monroe, the oldest son, died of influenza when he was a young, married man. His wife, Jessie, died just days after he did. They left two small children to raise, Audayne and Idoma. When I was growing up, I remember hearing those distant cousins name and wondering who would name children like that. This picture is not especially good of Uncle Monroe - he was a very nice looking man, as was my grandfather, Willis. I wished I could have been there when this photo was taken. Uncle Ace, the youngest and last in the row is living in Austin, Texas and is in his nineties, I believe. I really need to get down to see him. He always reminds me of my grandfather, who died at age 61 when I was in the 10th grade. These people worked hard for a living. Never had much, but they had each other.

Uncle Vernon Bartlett - a real Gus McRae

Uncle Vernon

For those Lonesome Dove affecionados may I present Vernon Bartlett. My great Uncle Vernon lived his whole life as a west Texas ranch hand. He was more at home on a horse than anywhere else. I remember him as a very kind man with a gentle spirit. Always had a tale to spin, a song to sing. Like Gus in Lonesome Dove, he loved only one woman- my Aunt Marie. She and Uncle Vernon did not meet and marry until they were both middle-aged. They lived in Placid, Texas where Aunt Marie ran a general store and was the postmistress. You couldn't find a more dedicated couple. Marie passed away first, and Uncle Vernon continued to work on a ranch until he died of old age in his nineties. Once he was written up in a local paper when the countryside was overrun with jackrabbits. The rest of the story is a little gruesome for city slickers, but perfectly understandable if you live on a ranch or farm. The ranchers saddled up and stretched a long piece of heavy netting between all the riders, then rode into the open field where all the jackrabbits were homesteading - riding far out then circling together with each end of the net - basically creating a drag net trap to corral as many rabbits as possible. There were hundreds. I will end the tale here, but you can figure out what took place next. Ranchers here in Texas are seldom without a side arm. In all fairness, the rabbits were so over populated they were starving and diseased. But Uncle Vernon became a local celebrity for a short while. There are many Bartlett boy tales and in another post I will regale you again!

FYI - I believe this photo was taken on the Regency Bridge over the Colorado River, near Locker, Texas.

Davis Mountains and Alpine, Texas

Interesting concept?



At some point in time when I think I could afford to retire ( no rolling on floor laughing, please), I want to move to Alpine, Texas near the Davis Mountains and Big Bend. Alpine is a small town that is getting a reputation of being the "Taos of Texas". Since my K-Man is very gifted, perhaps a good way to supplement old age income could be selling his art. Although I have a feeling I won't be able to part with much of it.

The Gender Genie

The Gender Genie



A gender genie? Ah... Just in case you don't know your own, go here. Interesting chance to compose something anyway. Get those creative juices flowing and see if you write Hemingway or Bronte! Add your own literary opus and see what the Genie guesses. May be helpful if you are trying to get that just right feel - like my friend, Janeen! Good luck!

Here's mine... (written in 10 minutes time stolen at my desk - not too conducive for creative juices...)

Layered like ancient rock, slate blue skies dashed with a streak of brown pollution blanket the city. Beneath it all hums the ant-like movements of humans jostling with mundane purpose. Images of weekday life mirrored in tall stalagmites of glass create a surreal feeling of an outdoor funhouse. Helmeted men on yellow bicycles weave in and out of pedestrians on the sidewalks, keeping the suit world safe from a brush with a lesser life form. On the corner, a one-legged man sits in a wheelchair holding a small cup mutely insisting that society replace the lost limb with monetary compensation. The expression on his face is stoney, without a single emotion. Mellow tones from church bells ring out a noonday song, signaling the halfway mark of the day. Shops and cafes fill suddenly to overflow and the mingled smells of fried meat, baked bread and coffee overlay the odor of engine exhaust and street dust. A tiny cosmos of human interaction, simultaneously energizing and demoralizing with its man-made rhythm and pulse- - the city.