The Childress County Cemetery

By Jay Pister

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 31, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465320056

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Copyright © 2009 by Jay Pister.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Dedicated to Odieth

A kind and loving partner in life

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Tasha for her excellent help in researching and finding the right design image

Thanks to Jeannie for her help and encouragement in the selection of the proper content of the book

Thanks to Sir Leeper who encouraged me to write the book

Thanks to Sir Toddson for his help and encouragement and for being a good friend

Prologue

The author’s intention in the Childress County Cemetery is to demonstrate a slice of life as depicted from the events and conditions surrounding a small Texas town as its people suffered through the depression, and the people involved moved from this impoverished era into a dramatic conflict brought upon the nation by the events of the major wars that have beset the nation.

The lack of education and the poverty went hand in hand and were somewhat interrelated. The love of the country led many into a spirit of feeling that this country, for whatever hardships had prevailed, is a precious country and the freedoms shared are a godsend… They knew not the nature of the enemy that had assaulted the nation but they understood that this nation is their home and that was enough to elicit their undying efforts to defend her.

Nor would they understand the underlying politics that were at issue. The typical men of this part of the nation and this era, the depression children, were lean and tough and knew hardships. They had maintained a sense of loyalty and felt that whatever the tasks to perform or burdens they were called upon to shoulder, it was unbound allegiance and love of God that impelled him to perform as best he could. Most of these men threw down their plows and tools and immediately went to the defense of the country they loved.

The central character in the story is Jackie Smith. The story centers on him to demonstrate what effects the era and the events could play upon the life of one individual and overall the effects upon a people. The story serves to illustrate that the larger events surrounding his life, including the war and the poverty had shaped his destiny.

From time to time the author tries to widen the spectrum of the story to imply that all of the small towns so beset and so affected by events occurring thousands of miles away had many similar stories to tell. The bigger story is the assumption that all across America, these events and these struggles are repeated. As one can look across the many graves in a large cemetery, any large cemetery, he can relate to the fact that the lives of the persons all often very intertwined and that if one were to go to each grave and unearth the story and attempt to write the entire saga behind each life, he would find recurring tales of heroism and valor. He would find a love of country. He would find a life of triumphs and disappointments. He would often find untimely tragic intervention in all of the families involved.

The cemetery is the final chapter.

We could find that each story being told would have some elements that we can all relate to…

It is possible that we are all like an ant on a leaf floating down a stream. For all of the decisions and struggles that take place while on this leaf, our own universe is small and our abilities to influence our destiny are limited. While on the leaf, our bigger destinies are more determined by the movement of the leaf and the direction the stream takes us.

As a novel, no real names or defined personalities are intended and any resemblance to persons in the area should be viewed as merely coincidental.

The old man had sat down on a fallen tree in the cemetery. Jackie sat near him on another log. These logs made for a good bench. This chance meeting and this location would give the two a rest period and a chance to talk. The weather was a bit overcast and Jackie could reflect that the weather always seemed to treat him this way when he went to the cemetery. It was as if the mood and the weather had to stay in sync.

Are you from here?

No, I am from the Dallas area. I was passing though here. I haven’t seen my mama’s grave since the funeral. I was having trouble finding the spot

What family?

Smiths. Do you know of them?

It’s a fairly common name.

There is a group of Smiths close to the East gate… . about three rows from the Southwest corner.

They both looked in that direction. Jackie had already searched in that area. He thought at the funeral and he was making a good mental note of the location. He had felt that surely I will be back. As he did come back though, all of the locations had seemed to blend in together and look common. It was like being in a forest and trying to remember which tree one is near. Plus he was among company at the funeral. He somehow was not thinking about how he might go about in an effort of locating the grave all by himself.

Finding a spot again in unfamiliar territory is not as easy as one might think. Plus as one could suspect, the rows of graves in a large cemetery start looking alike. You could be alert enough to locate a major road and then reason, where the main North-South road and the main East West road intersect would give one his bearings. At least one could narrow down to the quadrant where to look. Jackie had the fleeting thought that the numbers of graves in a small town often outnumber the actual living citizens…

He wondered how long it would take for the deceased in a town or small city to outnumber the living. When people first settle a community, probably from the beginning they had not given much thought as to where they will bury the dead. That decision was forced upon them by the first death. Someone early in the social process had to make the wise decision that was probably the first function of the city council. As soon as the people realized that we have the makings of a city or town, we will elect wise elders to guide us in our decisions in this regard… Someone, probably had made similar decisions and had seen it done there and would tell the group of settlers, Let’s incorporate. As a community, let’s choose an area to bury our dead in a location with boundaries that can be common and large enough to contain many plots.

Jackie had seen many small Texas cemeteries that had looked like they could have existed in a large metropolitan area, the cemetery is wide and expansive with numerous plots spread across a sprawling landscape. This landscape is often bigger than the town or city itself. Not only does it contain more space, the numbers or deceased who are laid to rest outnumber the population at large. Population is larger.

He could recall a story out of the books where a writer had envisioned the meetings of the spirits taking place. These were personalities that had already lived in the community and were now gone. The spirits watched over the town, commenting on how they had lived and speculating on the personalities and events that were currently taking place.

Jackie shook his head. A good story maybe. Almost frightful in its implications. What town or city would want its people to air all of its dirty laundry, its unholy schemes and dastardly plots for all to see? What people would want its inner-most secrets being observed by an all-seeing presence?

Jackie reflected that this observation and this level of understanding by an all-seeing presence were going on anyhow.

The original question. How long would it take under natural conditions for the dead to outnumber the living? Probably about four generations. That is about a century.

He studied the old man. Jackie could see that the old man was a piece of history. One could not get that old without having a working knowledge of the depression and the war. Within each old man was a plethora of stories. He could reason that inside faculties of every older person contains many fabulous tales. Life itself is exciting. The life of an older person will be a living story. One being that old would have a wealth of knowledge locked inside his mind. America had a story to tell. Each person was a chapter in that story. All of the persons he could see were a part of that tale, each person being a chapter to the book. The book is interesting. The people are interesting.

Jackie Smith had found that he had grown to love old people. He could see the really old struggling with a bad back or a walk that that grown stiff. It was the natural aging of the body as the body failed to repair all of the damaged cells but often the mind was often rich and cultured. Just to listen to a well learned and well spoken old person was to delve into a richness that no history book could match. It is hard for raw history, a mere compiling of the facts, to paint the real picture of people loving, struggling, caring for each other and absorbing all that life has to offer.

As the old man talked, Jackie listened but his mind drifted back to his memories of the town. He had only lived in the town itself for about two years in his first days of school. He could not say that these two years were unpleasant. As he had related events later for these years, he would hear voices of sympathy. Oh you poor dear… that must have been horrible… or You must have lived through a hard childhood.

Jackie had not reflected upon these years in that fashion. He had felt a certain degree of freedom as he seemed to find his own path along the creek or meander down to the café where if he had a quarter he could get a large hamburger. He had gotten some of these quarters from his grandmother. He came to realize in the wisdom of his latter years that his grandmother had loved him. It took years of living and reflection to come to that conclusion.

He had remembered these hamburgers as being the largest in the world. They seemed to be as big around as a modern day plate. He could not be sure whether the hamburgers had changed size or the little boy had changed his memory and they had only seemed that big.

He did recall walking the path by the creek towards the main part of town often, and getting a hamburger and then making his way back across the same path towards the schoolhouse, Robert E. Lee Elementary. He had to reflect that he must have been up terribly early to get all of this done before school and all of this was done in the dark.

This darkness had lasted not only while he walked to the café but remained with him for the walk to school. Often he would sit in the dark at the playground or go to the swings while waiting for the school to open. The janitors where always the first to get there.

He could remember that he had moved into the small house in town about the age of five. He had also started school at that age. He never knew the reason that he had started school prematurely only that he could see later that he was always a year younger than others in his class. This condition of being the youngest in any of his classes had followed him all throughout the early years.

In