Churchill

In retrospect, Churchill brought a clarity to young Queen Elizabeth that she so desperately needed after the untimely death of her father. While he had to have known he had far too long held office as Prime Minister of the U.K., possibly he held out to ensure the stability of Queen Elizabeth II. Did you know he was involved in politics for 50 years? (Who would not become pompous and asinine after that length of time in dealing with deep layers of politics?) Did you know his mother, Jennie Jerome, was American? Churchill is one of only eight who have been made an honorary citizen of the U.S. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, 1953. Churchill died in 1965, at the age of 90. Even in death, Churchill was honored by a rare state funeral by decree of Queen Elizabeth II. Churchill's larger mission seems to have been splendidly accomplished.

Hicks Killingsworth ➡️ ➡️ ➡️
© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

Leaving

Oddly, I am a product of both those who sought to find freedom from persecution, as well as those who fought to retain their lands. The very battle of these encounters tears me apart. I suppose, the mothers who hugged their grown children for the last time as those families shipped out of England for New England, must have had their hearts torn apart in the process. I suppose those Native American mother’s first encounters with shiploads of English arriving on their shores, must have had their hearts also ripped apart in knowing their grown children would die fighting to retain life as they had known it. Life is in the unknown.

↣↣↣ Hicks Killingsworth

© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

The Ranchers and the City Folk

I'm not sure we fit into Oklahoma sometimes. The ranch group is someone we should be able to relate to; we've done our share of riding horses, working cattle and being "farmhands" in our growing up years. The thing is, we must have become city folks through the years somehow. We don't seem to quite fit in with the ranch crowd anymore.

We usually sit quietly at the table with those who are eating after the events we've recently attended, and listen a lot to their stories of buying ranches, buying a particular pigeon toed roping horse that can "heel" with the best of them, as in the "heading and heeling" events of roping at rodeos.

Last evening we sat with the trick rider who had ridden for years at Branson, Missouri with the Dolly Parton Show there. She rode in yesterday's Oklahoma Centennial Parade for one and one-half miles standing up on the saddle over the horse, holding an American Flag. She's a successful realtor from Tulsa now, and trick rides at rodeo events throughout the nation.

They are an interesting group of folks, the ranch people. They are leather skinned from being constantly in the sun. They eat heartily, offer their kindnesses after the meal, are honest (most of the time) in their dealings, and move quietly out of the restaurant, to head back to the ranch with their often $250,000 to $1,000,000 rigs, by the time value is included for the truck, the trailer and most importantly, the horses in those trailers.

The trick rider’s dad, from as far west in Oklahoma as one can get to be able to spit into Texas, but stand in Oklahoma, was sitting next to my citified teenage daughter. It was quite a sight. Leah is wearing her Channel necklace, has her hair perfectly coifed, her makeup carefully applied, her manicure and pedicure and dressed as if to appear on the runway. The rancher from Carter, OK, sits beside her with a hint of dirt lining his steamed and formed cowboy hat. He has already applied for and used for many years his AARP card, as well as is receiving Medicare Benefits by now. He has obviously spent years with horses out in the elements of western Oklahoma that have lined his face with creases as deep as his hat’s.

So, the young city girl eats her salad and listens as the rancher stabs his fork into his well-done t-bone, talks of racing his Greyhounds in Kansas, and of warning his young daughter about the auspices of riding the spirited horse out in the field. He speaks through a barely detectable side of his mouth, while still chewing on the steak, that this particular horse will surely buck his young daughter. This is the same “young daughter” who has done trick riding for years, and continues to trick ride at the age of 40, but whom the old rancher still warns to “be careful” when attempting those horses who might shuck her.

Later, my young city teenage girl says, “I couldn’t understand much of what that cowboy was saying!” And, I must laugh, as I couldn’t understand much either.

And so, there we are: the ranchers and the city folks relating as best as we can. We drive past some of them as we leave the parking lot. They focus on the road as best as possible in the rain, knowing they will drive another two hours home, then spend another two hours washing down their very valuable horses, brushing them down, getting the investment animal feed and maybe catching the 10:00 pm news to hear how the weather will affect them tomorrow at 5:00 am when they rise to work their ranches all over again.

We city folks look at them in awe as we understand the hours and dollars they invest in their lifestyles. We then drive through our favorite Starbucks fifteen minutes down the road. We sip on a Cappuccino before we rush home to catch “Desperate Housewives” and “Brothers and Sisters” on our cable television/high speed media center, before we retire for the evening. We don’t even own a dog, or any other pet, as we aren’t home enough to sufficiently take care of an animal!

The ranchers and the city-folk: how different we are!        

Hicks Killingsworth -> -> ->
14 October 2007    
© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

Mother at Christmas

I miss my Mother very much and especially during the holidays, of course. I have felt, as I sure many can relate, at quite a loss since I always spent a great deal of time in composing, and sending out her Christmas cards, and shopping for her in the later years for the entire family’s gifts.

I remember as if it were yesterday, my brother and I taking our Mother to the Tulsa Airport so she could jet out on the trip to England. She was so nervous! Now that I am upper middle-aged, I know that claustrophobia may have certainly heightened her nervousness.

Mother had collaborated with her cousin in Bath, England for many years. Her lifetime achievement was extensive genealogical research. Through her research efforts, she had arranged for she and fourteen cousins (literally!) to travel to England together.

My brother asked permission to walk her onto the plane to make sure she was seated and arranged before takeoff. Before security issues were so tight, he was allowed to do this. Her cousin-travel adventures took her to London, Bristol, Bath, and throughout the lovely Cotswolds.

And, as we know.... the trip was a great success. She enjoyed it so much! It was one of the highlights of her life in meeting her cousins in England, and of course, traveling to the U.K.

Mom came to speak to my third grade class after that trip to England. She told them of her travels and shared pictures with them as well. What a delight that was!

Something of Mother remains in Christmas. Sometimes, it is as if I can smell the moment. The special aroma of pies baking, the amazing array of food prepared with the turkey baking slowly in the oven throughout the night; those are the smells of Mother at Christmas. And this Christmas, after having ventured to the U.K. myself, I am especially contented in taking in the precious moments and smells of Christmas, and of remembering Mother.

↣↣↣ Hicks Killingsworth

Originally written 18 December 2006; recompiled 13 December 2016

© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

All materials included on this website are, unless otherwise stated, the property of Hicks Killingsworth.  Copyright and other intellectual laws protect these materials, and reproduction or retransmission of the materials — in whole or in part, in any manner — without prior written consent of the copyright holder is a violation of copyright law.

Black Boots

He was so young. The entourage of passers-by walked near, looked, respected his space, and didn't bother him. He was asleep on the wire bench outside our Colorado hotel. Sometime between ‪12:00 midnight and ‪8:00 a.m., he had appeared there to rest.

His backpack was his pillow, and his cell phone lay on the ground, along with the military-style black boots.

Occasionally, I would walk past again on the way to the vehicle in preparation for the day's travel. The young traveler would change positions on the heavily wired bench, and sleep on. At some point, someone had left a gallon-sized zip-lock of food bars by his black boots.

A little later, I passed by and noticed his blondish hair, trimmed very close to his head, and the face of a young-twenty-something man. He seemed quite comfortable in his own skin. Again, he had changed positions, but slept on.

I wondered, "Was he military? Is he a hiker?" He was clean, in good sturdy clothes. He had an up-to-date cell phone and well-made backpack.

Somehow, he inspired me. I thought, "What freedom that young guy knows! He is able to travel limitlessly, experience adventure without bounds, gain knowledge of who he is, and figure out what he wants out of life! Maybe he will look back on this time and hold it as the most important, fact-finding days of his life."

I don't know where the young sleeper called home. I don't know if his parents worried about his whereabouts. I don't know where he went after sleeping outside our hotel. What I do know, is that without speaking a word, he and the black boots were gone upon our return from a day of our own trekking about Colorado.

Wherever the baby-faced young man sleeps tonight, on this July 4, I pray that he knows he inspired so many who walked past. I hope he is safe. May the black military-style boots take him to a place of great knowledge. Maybe he has discovered, most of all, that every day is an adventure! And in the oddest way, he represents the hope of future for us all.

Hicks Killingsworth -> -> ->

4 July 2016

© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

All materials included on this website are, unless otherwise stated, the property of Hicks Killingsworth.  Copyright and other intellectual laws protect these materials, and reproduction or retransmission of the materials — in whole or in part, in any manner — without prior written consent of the copyright holder is a violation of copyright law.

Trash Bag Raincoats

Once, in my teaching days, my students, parent sponsors, and I were on a field trip to study Native Americans in Anadarko, Oklahoma. Buckets of rain were falling from the sky! One of the attending parents made us all rain-coats out of XL trash bags. We got the biggest laugh out of it all...and stayed much drier. That's what I love about the human spirit...when life brings unexpected rain, we can shut down...or we can don ourselves in whatever is at our disposal and move forward. So, I say we get  up…grab the industrial sized trash bags, cut out arm holes and a space to slip over our heads...and prepare ourselves to splash on through! Memories to make...no time to waste in rainstorms!

Dedicated to the students (and their parents) in the classroom of life who teach us to really live!

↣↣↣ Hicks Killingsworth

19 April 2010

© 2016 Hicks Killingsworth

All materials included on this website are, unless otherwise stated, the property of Hicks Killingsworth.  Copyright and other intellectual laws protect these materials, and reproduction or retransmission of the materials — in whole or in part, in any manner — without prior written consent of the copyright holder is a violation of copyright law.