Thursday, December 12, 2013
I,as dozens of small towns on the rail line, am a product of the AT&SF Railway. Trains have always been handy, a luxury, and dear to my heart. I've ridden from here to Chicago and from Los Mochis, Sinola, to Chihuahua City, Chihuahua, Mexico via railway.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
These shacks were a resting camp for cowboys driving their herds from their ranches to the stock pens in Canadian. Their horses were quartered in the back and the front two rooms were for the cowboys to bunk.
My friend Kelly Ward and I played in those old stockyards many a time. We invented a game of tag where we chased one another but our feet could not touch the ground. Both of us could only walk/run on the board fences and close or open gates to foil which one was chasing the other.
In those days local children had more freedom to explore and expand their imagination without worrying about somebody with a cell phone calling 911 and reporting "kids running a muck on the train tracks," or "kids with shotguns on first street shooting pigeons."
Common sense disappeared shortly after those old wooden stock pens did and paved streets arrived.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Autumn leaves were filling the air,
There on Brokenstraw Creek;
Her eyes decried, “Come get your share,”
There was no need to speak.
Lazy silk clouds rolling by,
On an October breeze;
I never felt any more at Peace,
Than that day at Brokenstraw Creek.
I took her hand in mine,
And she smiled a bit;
If ever we were one,
No doubt then that was it.
In dreams & times like these it seems,
When I now feel old, lost, and weak;
I wish we had stayed and shared our last days,
Near the waters of Brokenstraw Creek.
I’d find a fossil or two,
By the banks of Brokenstraw Creek…
© 2013 All Rights Reserved
Steven C. Whipple
Pattie Ann Smith