It may seem odd to admit, and then, maybe not; but my Dad and me have never had a trip together until Thursday, July 31, 2008. When I was in partnership in the Dairy farm with Dad we took short trips to buy hay and such. I guess you could call those “business trips”; but we had never just taken a casual drive, and taken the whole day to get away from home and see some sites.
The Houston of the title is not Houston, Texas, but rather Houston, Missouri; which is located about ninety miles East of Springfield, MO. It is the town where my wife Madge was born in 1956. It is also the town where here father and one brother is buried at a cemetery two miles North of Town on Highway 63.
Dad and I left Mom’s and Dad’s house shortly after 8 a.m.; stopped in Aurora for breakfast. After breakfast we took the drive down Highway 60 to Cabool, got on Highway 63 then went on the Houston.
Dad’s reason for wanting to go to the County Seat of Texas County, Missouri was because he had read a book telling about a mill which had been on the Big Piney River which is known there. The Mill which sat on the River was the Lone Star mill. One of the reasons the old mills are something Dad is interested in, as am I, is because the place my Dad was born and raised on, had a mill at one time until the creek took it out in a flood sometime before he was born. His Dad and Mom ran it, my grandparents, until the flood. Dad said they were not real interested in keeping the mill going, so it never was rebuilt.
We ate lunch in Houston, and after lunch we discovered a Military, Historical and Genealogical Museum there in the old downtown and we went in. Speaking with the lady who was tending the front, she told Dad that she was familiar with the book he had read concerning the mill, and she knew of the mill, and where it had been. She told him that the mill was gone, and that there was nothing that even resembled a mill ever being there and there was no public access to the area. The lady told us of an area North of town where the Big Piney River flowed under the bridge for Highway 17, and it was above stream from where the mill had been. We pulled into the Public Fishing Access which was there and looked. It was named “Dog Bluff Public Fishing Access”, and there was a bluff there with the River flowing a slow steady flow.
The last time I had been to Houston was probably in 1996 or 1998 when Madge’s Mom wanted to go to the cemetery and place some flowers on the graves. We had also stopped at the Emmett Kelly Park and had a picnic. It took me a little driving to find the cemetery. I wanted to show Dad where her Dad, and brother Jerry was buried. I finally found it, and we got out and looked.
After leaving the fishing access we drove North on 17 to Highway 32 to Lebanon and I-44 to Springfield, then on home. We arrived back at Dad’s about 5:15 or so. It was a good day, and I enjoyed spending a day with Dad. We talked about many and various things. A lot about the past, and some about the future and the Lord’s return.
One thing I have learned over the past 16 years is that my Dad is not immortal. I remember the first time I saw him on a hospital roller bed, headed to surgery for a busted intestine; it was a shock to me, and when he asked me to pray as they were rolling him in, I broke, and could hardly finish the prayer. Yes, I knew he was mortal just like me, but there is something that clicks in your mind and thinking when you see them in such a humble position.
Since then, Dad has had open heart surgery, a leg amputation, and he is still learning to deal with walking on his prosthetic leg. I say these things to remind us all that our parents are not going to be with us forever. They are going to leave us in death. Let us be mindful to spend time with them, and to help them when ever and at every time we have opportunity. God knows I have not gone to see them as often as I could have, or should have; but I do try to help them when they need help.
Before long we are going to be putting a new metal roof on their house. That is planned to be a family activity. It will be when the sun is not as hot as 95 – 100 degrees. I think I had the best parents as a boy, then as a man, that a man could ever have.
-Tim A. Blankenship