Serendipity in Proctor, OK

If you have known me for very long, and if you read this blog then I assume you have, then you know that I have a strong connection to my late grandfather, Pa.  I am continually fascinated and inspired by the legacy and life left by John Elder Parker.  The fact that there are 3 generations of boys and men in our family named in his honor pays tribute to the strength of his legacy. 

Earlier this month, my precious family packed up our camper and set out on what was to us, an epic adventure.  We have frequently camped for the weekend in the local state parks and campgrounds, but we had never ventured out of state in our camper.  For our 2013 Cornish Family Summer Vacation, we left home early on the morning of July 4th, arriving at Lake Tenkiller in Oklahoma in the late afternoon.  Lake Tenkiller is near Tahlequah, OK, and served as our basecamp while we visited Muskogee and Fort Gibson, Tahlequah, Proctor and Chewey, OK over the weekend.  I had urged my girls to be patient with me over that weekend.  I knew that we would have plenty of fun in the lake and river, but I also knew that this homecoming of sorts for me would mean lots of time in a car, or visiting with family and friends that may not be much “fun” for the little ones.  The promise of spending the following week in Branson, MO, doing fun kid stuff like Silver Dollar City, Whitewater, and Dixie Stampede was enough to satisfy Grace and Hailey.  They were fantastic on this trip.  We were also pleased that we got to share this vacation with my sister, Tracy.  Tracy bunked with the girls in our camper and was a blast to travel with.

On Saturday, July 6th, we took a drive through Tahlequah, and then north on scenic Highway 10, following the winding path of the Illinois River.  The views were really spectacular, much more grand than I had remembered.  The bluffs overhanging the highway, dense forests, rolling green pastures and hayfields along the quiet river bed made for a really pretty drive.  We saw the various float operators along the highway and noted the one we would be returning to the following day for our river rafting trip down the Illinois, and then we ventured over to the Illinois River Ranch.  Turning off of Highway 10, we caught an ominous sign, restricting traffic flow to local traffic only and warning of narrow roadways and bridges.  The traffic on Chewey Bridge, which crosses the Illinois River and is a large concrete bridge with multiple lanes was reduced to a single 8 ft. lane.  I don’t mind admitting that I felt a bit… puckered, as we made that crossing.  I felt compelled to hold my breath and try to suck it in a little as we crossed.  There was definitely no time to take in the view of the river over the bridge for me in the driver’s seat. 

Entering the Illinois River Ranch, it seemed as though nothing had changed much in the 25-30 years since I was here last.  Improvements were scarce, and there weren’t many people around for a Saturday afternoon.  I was pretty surprised at how well my memory served me as we made our way up the winding dirt road, through the Illinois River Ranch, and on towards “the farm”.  The farm was what we always called Mema and Pa’s place on the river.  Aside from a small vegetable garden, it was hardly a farm in the true sense of the word.  They had about 12-15 acres, as I recall, with a few of those acres inaccessible and isolated on the other side of the river.  As we drove the dirt road, I found the turn off to the property, but we saw a new gate up near the road that prevented us from getting a closer look.  In my dreams of this trip, I had hopes of getting close to the house, perhaps meeting the owners and getting their blessing to see some of the property. 

I had remembered Mema and Pa’s good friends, the Hastings, lived a bit further down this road and had decided that I would use their driveway as a place to turn around.  As we approached their property, Tracy noticed that their name was on the mailbox, and suggested we at least stop to see if we could speak with them.  Tracy had suggested that they might know the owners of the property and could possibly call down to arrange a visit for us.   The next few minutes we spent with the Hastings instantly became the highlight of my whole vacation, and truly was serendipity.  Now, there is a word that we don’t use often enough.  Serendipity, defined by Webster as “the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for”. 

Jerry and Lavonne are just as wonderful and dear as I remember them.  They were so quick to invite us in and were more than happy to chat with us.  The hopes that we had of arranging a visit to the farm were quickly dashed, however.  They knew the owners well enough to know that our presence would be greatly frowned on.  The owners were known to have had trouble with the law previously, and were even known to have shot at floaters on the river who attempted to enter their property from the river.  One glance at Brenda after that tidbit of news was enough to know that I would not be attempting a peak from the river during our float the following day! 

But, after our chat, and before we took off, Jerry took us on a small tour.  We got to see his workshop that he uses with his son-in-law and grandsons to tinker and play during the cold months.  We saw Jerry’s gristmill, where he grinds local corn, and saw the smaller mills he loads onto trailers for demonstrations at schools and civic events.  We even got a sack of cornmeal to bring home with us.  Then, he took us to his woodshop.  I had known that Pa had given Jerry his 2 table saws, and I beamed with joy to see those saws in his shop.  I have no idea how old those saws are, but they were nowhere near new when I saw them last 30 years ago.  They still run like champs, and Jerry showed us some of his own woodworking.  Jerry also had a couple dozen small picture frames that Pa had made.  They were hanging up on nails in his shop, he just couldn’t bear to see them trashed, even though he wasn’t sure what he would ever do with them.  Brenda and Tracy each took some of these.  Brenda has some nice ideas of projects to use them for.  Then, I turned around to see a picture of Pa staring back at me.  I lifted up Grace and Hailey so that they could see Pa in the picture.  He was standing at these same table saws, but the picture was taken inside of the home Pa was building 30 years ago.  Jerry was quick to tell me that he wasn’t ready to give up that picture just yet.

There was one more stop before we left the Hasting’s place, a storage shed, next to the woodshop.  In the shed, Jerry found and gave me, the World War II packs that Pa had used.  Jerry wasn’t sure what he would use them for, but was certain they couldn’t be trashed, either.  They had been stored all these years just barely out of the elements and were full of dust and mud daubers.  Lavonne even chastised Jerry a bit for leaving them so exposed to the harsh heat and cold of the shed.  I quickly accepted the generous gift and promised that they would be cleaned up and well loved.  By the time we loaded up in the truck, we had an armful of goodies that no trinket or souvenir shop could match.

Grace will tell you that the best part of our vacation was Branson.  That is surely expected when you talk to a 6 year old about a family vacation.  But I have to say that there were 2 separate incidents on this vacation that affirmed for me that our Oklahoma leg of the trip made an impact on Grace.  The first was on the 5th of July, as we were leaving Mema and Pa’s gravesite at Fort Gibson National Cemetery.  Grace was moved to tears because she realized that she missed Mema.  I miss her, too.  And I shed a few tears there, myself.  The second incident was during our bedtime routine the evening after our time with the Hastings.  As usual, I had asked my girls to share something fun or special that they could recall from the day.  Grace told us that she felt like she got to meet Pa that day, seeing his picture at Mr. Jerry’s woodshop, and hearing him talk about Pa.  Mission accomplished.  Grace is almost 7 years old, and is gaining an appreciation for her legacy, though she doesn’t know it yet.  To me, that beats all the shows and rides that anyplace else can offer.  It also tells me that we are doing something right!

I will share more about our trip in another blog post, but this was by far the most sentimental and personally significant portion of our vacation.  Brenda did an amazing job tackling the corroded metal on the belt, suspenders and packs we received.  She soaked everything in Oxyclean, and used a Q Tip and toothbrush with CLR to clean the buckles, clasps and rivets.  Years of rust, dust and dirt disappeared down the drain and left us with these treasures.  I am so proud to have these in my possession.

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