Generosity

    In the early forties, all of our farm work was done by horses, but we normally didn’t raise our own horses. We bought them from the neighbors or at the sale. When I was 11 years old, there was a horse born on a farm up the road from us. We could see it as we walked to school and back, and I thought it sure was a pretty foal. He had a spot on his side that looked like a flying bat, so they named him “Bat.” He also had a white blaze down the front of his face and some white on his legs. Every time I saw him, I thought about how much I would love to have that horse.

    I would go over to the neighbor’s place whenever I could and check on the foal. I would pet it and talk to it for a few minutes before I had to run back home and get busy with chores. From our house, I would sometimes see it tied to another older horse in their pasture. That’s how they broke it to ride. Bat was never broke to work in the field, since he was foaled from a riding horse. For 3 years, I watched him grow up. I knew I would never be able to buy it, or even ride on it. None of my older siblings had owned a riding horse, and it was foolish to think about owning one myself, although I always wished I could.

    My brother, Junior, came home on leave from the Navy in 1944, when I was 14. We were all excited to see him and wanted to tell him everything that had happened while he was gone. I couldn't wait to show him the horse up the road that I thought was so beautiful. I told him that Bat would no doubt be a fine riding horse, since the mare was such a good, fast horse.

    A few days later, Junior said, “I think I’ll buy that horse over there, if you will take care of him for me.” Words can’t describe what I felt at that moment. I couldn’t believe that this extraordinary animal was really mine! Junior may have thought it was really his, but to me, it was really mine!

    Junior bought the horse for 65.00 and basically gave it to me. In 30 horses, Bat stood out among the herd. He was faster than any of my friends' horses. He was very obedient and would go wherever I pointed him. I taught him to jump the gate to the pasture, so I wouldn’t have to get off and open it. First, I would walk him up to the gate, back him off, and then . . . away we’d go, over the gate!

    He was not afraid of anything, and he loved to swim.  On Sunday afternoons, we would sometimes ride our horses to the Arkansas River and try to cross it on horseback. It was no fun to cross unless it was up at about flood level, with logs floating past and the water swirling. When I crossed it on Bat, I would usually drift about ¼ mile downstream, so I started walking Bat ¼ mile upstream first, then we would cross. I was the only one who would try to cross it when it was flooded; or should I say, Bat was the only one that would try it.

    I have so many happy memories of that horse. He was the greatest horse in this part of the country. Bat stayed with our family for 23 years. It was one of the major highlights of my life to own and have a relationship with this kind of animal, and it would never have been possible if it hadn’t been for my brother’s generosity.

Life Lesson: Help people reach their dreams any time you can. You just might change their life.

Generosity: the habit of giving freely without expecting anything in return.

Thoroughness

      We had a neighbor to the North of us named Luther Crawford. One day, when I was 9 years old, he walked over to where I was working with Daddy and asked me if I would clean out his chicken house. He didn’t say anything about what he was going to pay me to do it, but I thought maybe he would give me a dime. I said, “Sure, I’ll clean it out.”

     I was excited to get the chance to possibly earn some pocket money. As soon as Daddy let me go, I headed over to Luther’s hen house and got busy with a shovel and rake. I shoveled the chicken litter into buckets, carried them to Luther’s garden, and dumped them. I could only carry one bucketful at a time. I can’t tell you how many buckets and trips it took me to get it all cleaned out, but every now and then, it would cross my mind, “I hope he gives me a dime.”

     The hen house was about 10’ by 15’, and I guess it took me half a day. I kept going until every crumb was shoveled out of that hen house. When I finally got the last bucket dumped, I found Luther and told him I was done. I was still hoping he would give me a dime. I stood and waited while he looked the chicken house over. I watched him reach in his pocket and pull out a 50 cent piece and give it to me! To my knowledge, that was the first work that I had ever gotten paid for. I was not only surprised, but very thankful that he thought that much of my work. I took it home and showed it to my folks. I kept thinking he must have really been pleased with my work to have given me a 50 cent piece. That encouraged me even more to work hard and be thorough with every job I had. That’s true whether you work on the farm or “work out” somewhere else. The discipline is the same.

Life Lesson: When you are assigned to do something, you’d better give it all you’ve got.

Thoroughness: Carrying out each task in preparation for inspection and approval. 

Self-Control

     I remember walking to school every day with my sisters, Margaret and Sally. I was in the third grade at the time, so I was probably 9 years old. Sally would have been 5 or 6, and Margaret was around 13. It was a mile and a half to school, so if we left home by 8:00, we usually made it by 8:30 with good time. This particular morning, we found out from some of the kids that the government had made arrangements with the school board to have some apples and oranges brought in a wagon for the children to eat throughout the day. My dad found out about this, and when we got home from school, he gave us strict orders not to touch the fruit on that wagon when it came. Case closed. We knew why. It was a government program. We had heard him discuss the “New Deal” at the house on several occasions, and we knew he wanted nothing to do with handouts.

     When we arrived at the school yard the next day, there was the wagon loaded with fruit. Up on the very top of the pile was one of the largest apples I had ever seen in my life. We had to walk right past the wagon to get in the school house. My sisters and I never even considered the idea of taking a piece of fruit. With Daddy, there was no grey area or “middle ground.” It was all “Daddy’s ground.” He didn’t allow any begging or appeals.  I don’t remember a time when he hadn’t already made up his mind. The answer was either yes or no.

     There were other kids besides us who did not eat the apples, but not many.  They didn't eat them for the same reason we didn’t eat them - their parents had forbidden it. The kids who did get to eat the fruit tried to entice us to eat it, too. They even teased us a little. But it didn’t work. When Daddy said, “No,” he meant it. If we disobeyed, we knew we’d regret it later.

     All day, from my desk, I could see the apple wagon with that huge apple right on top of the load. I could see it through the window while I did my math, my spelling, my grammar, and my history. I walked past it to go to recess and lunch. I wanted that apple on the top more than I have wanted any apple before or since, mainly because it was so big.

     However, there was no debate in my mind that maybe Daddy wouldn’t find out, because it was settled. I really tried not to think about the apple too much. We walked home that afternoon, and I still wanted that apple. But I didn’t get it.

     Interestingly, when we got home, neither of my parents even asked us if we had eaten any of the fruit. They trained us to obey, but there was a deeper principle here. They also trained us to work for what we had. Maybe there was a certain amount of pride involved, in a good sense. Daddy was glad to be able to work for his family, and as long as he was able, he really didn’t want any help. He would have been insulted for anyone  to imply with a handout that he wasn't providing enough.

Life Lesson:  Don’t take things that you haven’t worked for.

Self-Control: The power that results from passing the tests of obedience. The virtue of one who masters his desires and passions.

Honesty

     "In 1939, when I was 9 years old, we moved to the "Pugh Place," less than a mile north from where I live today. We called it the Pugh Place because a man named Mr. Pugh owned it. He lived in Muskogee and worked at the Federal Court House. 

     My dad didn't own any land of his own at that time, but he loved to farm, and the Pugh Place had 130 acres. This was 50 acres more than what we farmed before, back at the Rains' place where I was born. I guess Dad figured that his kids were getting bigger, and could handle 50 more acres. 

     Mr. Pugh came down twice per year - when the strawberries were ripe, because we had a beautiful strawberry patch, and when we started picking cotton, because ¼ of the cotton would be his, and 1/3 of the grain would be his. As a sharecropper, my dad would sell the cotton, and give the landlord ¼ of what the cotton brought. When we gathered the grain, we would take 10 rows and leave 5 for the landlord, all the way across the field. This was how we paid the rent for the house and land.

     My dad would always call his landlord, and tell him to come and look at the field to make sure Dad had left him his third. I remember once when the landlord came down, I walked out to the field with him and Dad to count the rows. After Mr. Pugh finished counting, he said, “That’s exactly the way it's supposed to be.” 

     And if you knew my dad, you would know that’s the only way it was going to be. I don’t remember the landlord ever coming back to count the corn again. He knew my dad was an honest man and would give him what he had coming."

Life Lesson: Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

Honesty - Earning future trust by accurately reporting past facts.