Generations: Finding My Great Grandfather's Grave

My Great Grandfather Dena Long died over seventy years ago.  That's right, he passed away in 1949.  He never had a headstone placed on his grave.  There were a few reasons behind that decision.  First, my family was not only poor, but they were West Virginia poor.  That makes sense due to them living right in the middle of West Virginia.

The second reason is that my Great Grandfather was not a nice man.  When he passed away none of his sons shed a single tear.  My Grandfather Ray (Dena's son) had scars down his back.  Some of them were an inch wide.  I had no idea how my Grandfather received those scars until my Dad said that my Grandfather was beat with a tobacco stick by his father (My Great Grandfather Dena.)

So no one was in a hurry to place a headstone on his grave.  I honestly don't know if anyone ever visited his grave.  About fifty years after my Great Grandfather's death, my Grandfather Ray and his brothers had talked about purchasing a headstone and putting it up there.  However, my Grandfather and Great Uncles all passed away without having been able to do so.

My Great Grandfather Dena is on the left in this photo.  In the middle is my Great Uncle Larry, and my Grandfather Ray in the jaunty hat.  The dog in the middle of the photo is Roy.  The horses were Fred and Prince.

My Father turned seventy years old recently.  I know he wanted to carry out his Father's wishes.  So him and my Mother decided to purchase a headstone for my Great Grandfather.  Also included on the stone are two girls who are buried alongside him.  Claudia Long died young, her date of death is unknown.  Esta Long was stillborn.  So the headstone will contain the names of all three of them.

First up, we went to Fergusons's Monuments.  They are the best headstone makers for country miles.  There really is no one else to go to.

We picked out a small, but extremely nice headstone.

The next day myself, my Dad, Mother, and Aunt Joyce headed to the Pullens Cemetery on 9 Mile Road to find my Great Grandfather's grave.  Now, my family (I wasn't with them then) located Dena's marker a few years ago.  But back then, the cemetery had just been mowed.  This time it hadn't.

Yeah, so that's what we had to deal with.  The first thing I did was bust out a weed-eater.  I cleaned up the entrance so we could actually open the gate.  Dad cleared a path to Ginger Adkin's grave.  He knew that Dena's marker was near it.

The four of us wandered around the cemetery for about half an hour.  I cleared out the brush near Ginger's grave.  I figured that would give us a good starting point.  As I was searching I came up to a handful of stalks that were all together.  When I broke them over I saw what I had been looking for right in the middle of them, my Great Grandfather's marker.

I ended up clearing away some of the brush immediately.

It says: (incorrectly)
Denna Long
1882  1949
McGee Funeral Home

Then I went to town with the weed-eater.

Here are my Mom (left,) Aunt Joyce (middle,) and Dad (Right) standing by Dena's marker.

I had been somewhat holding off on weed-eating the cemetery since I was burning through weed-eater line.  I ended up clearing up around Dena's grave, and then widened the path back to the entrance.  I wanted Ferguson's to be able to haul the gravestone in the cemetery easily.

And here I am standing victorious by my Great Grandfather's marker.

Dad managed to find a blaze orange rope in his truck.  He tied it to a sharpened stick and planted it right by Dena's marker.  Again, we want to give Fergusons all the help they can get finding the marker.

I didn't even talk about getting up the hill.  There were only a few ways to get up the hill.  First up, the hill had to be dry.  Don't even think about trying to get up there on a wet day.  Next, you absolutely need a four wheel drive truck with a 4WD Low option.

Or, you could take a small ATV like a Polaris.  That would be able to climb the hill.  Or you could do it the old fashioned way.  Take your walking stick and put one foot in front of the other.  But I want to warn you, it's a bit of a walk up the hill.  

When coming down, I jogged ahead of the truck throwing sticks out of the road.  I also bent some branches and such out of the way so it wouldn't scrap the truck.  I ended up getting one heck of a workout.  It was much tougher than any "leg day" at the gym.  I'm still hurting.

The good news is everything has been taken care of.  Fergusons said the headstone will be ready in 6-8 weeks.  They should be able to place it before it snows.  I think Dad feels fulfilled, in that, he completed what his Dad wanted to be able to do.  Even he admits that the grave is located in a place where very few will be able to see it, but Dena still deserved a headstone.  No matter what kind of man he was.

I'll make sure to post an update when the headstone is set.  I have a few relatives that will be happy to send me photos.  I don't think I will ever be able to see it, but I'll be happy knowing it's there.

Philmont 2019: Day 90, This is the End

This is it.  Today was my last working day at Philmont.  It's hard to believe that I made it.  I know of two times they had to talk me off the ledge.  I've done the best I could with what I had.

Honestly, right now I don't know what to think.  I've gotten into a routine, and now it comes to a halt.  It's kind of bittersweet right now.  For the first time in a long time I have so many emotions, yet I don't know how to express them.

I've gotten most of my things packed.  I wanted to load up my truck, but it's been raining since two o'clock this afternoon.  It's now completely dark out, so it looks like I am going to have to wait for the weather to clear up in the morning before I start loading up the truck and tying my things down.

I'll say this.  The Philmont General Manager, Roger Hoyt, personally came up to me, and thanked me for what I had done.  He said he knew it wasn't easy for me, and he appreciated all that I had gotten accomplished.  I told him that meant the world to me.  And it did.  I'll admit, I'm the kind of person who will go far for compliments.

Again, I have so much to say, but just don't know how to say it.  So I will leave you with this.  This mural is located in the Philmont Training Center Dining Hall.

Why'd the artist have to paint the buffalo's dick?

Philmont 2019: Day 78, The Horse

Back on June 21st I took the best photo I will have taken out here.  I was taking photos of a lone horse in a field.  I was busy zooming my camera in and out taking photos of the horse.  There was one photo that I took quickly not thinking about whether it was good or not.  I was just snapping one photo after another.

When I went back to look at my photos this particular picture stood out.  After looking at it I remembered taking it.  But it was just a quick snap that I didn't really think about at the time.  This is the photo.

Not long ago I had that photo printed out at Wal-Mart.  I inserted it in a frame I bought at the thrift shop, and have hung it up on my office wall.  Here's a photo of it hanging on my wall.

A little while ago I learned a story about that horse.  It was only a few days after this photo was taken the Wranglers tried to load him into a trailer.  He fell over, and couldn't get back up.  They ended up shooting him in the head causing his death.

The horse's name was Tito.

I keep this photo around to remind me of certain things.  The 21st of June was a great day.  It was a perfect day for myself and Tito.  He was hanging around a nice open field with more grass than he could possibly eat.  He mostly hung near this medium sized tree.

The evening was cool, dry, with a nice breeze coming from the West.  That day was a great day for Tito.  But a few days later Tito was dead from a bullet to the brain.  This taught me a few things.

A bathroom cleaner like myself may do a great job one day.  Everything might end up going smoothly.  But life resets the next day.  The next day you might run into a buzz saw.  Or, in this case, a .38.  Don't get comfortable with things being wonderful.  They can come crashing down the next day.

Life is fleeting and so is success.  Don't take it for granted.  As for Tito, I hated to hear of his passing.  Sometimes life just ain't that fair.

Philmont 2019: Day 72, A Trip To Ponil

Yesterday I visited Philmont's Ponil Camp where they keep all the horses and donkeys.  But I was also surprised they had a multiple shooting sport set up.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I took over one hundred photos so I'll tell the story as I post the photos.

As I was driving NM-204, which is a dirt road, I noticed a few things coming at me.  It turns out there were a few horses just running down the road.  One of them was a huge horse.  He came a little bit close to a backpacker who was on the road.  Honestly, it would have terrified me.  I grabbed my camera, and took photos of a few of the horses.

That last one was right beside my truck.  I did my best to take a quick photo of it.  It's not bad, but it could be much better.  But you can see just how fast the horses were moving.

I made it to the camp in my Ford F-150.  From there I had to walk.  I didn't actually know I would have to walk that much.  With my knee like it is/was, if I had known I would have been walking that much I may not have made the trip.

So when I arrived I asked where my friend Maria was.  They said she was at the shooting range.  The shooting range must be a mile from the camp.  Or at least it feels that way.  So down the road I walked.  As I walked I took photos of the plants that lived in the canyon.

The scenery was beautiful.  Although, it seemed I picked one of the hottest days to visit.  As I was walking down the trails, I realized how grateful I was for all the signposts everywhere.

I arrived at the Shooting Sports cabin.  Two scout troops, myself, and a few rangers sat through the safety talk.  It was a good refresher course for me.  After that, we walked to the range.  Here's the view of the shooting range.

We shot three different types of guns.  The first was a pistol.  Specifically, it was a Ruger Vaquero single action pistol that accepted .357/.38 loads.  The rifle was an Italian copy of a Winchester 73'.  The shotgun was a short barreled, double barrel 12 gauge.

We let all the boys shoot first.  The Scoutmasters shot next.  Finally, myself and a ranger shot last.  I have to admit, I did terribly with the pistol.  The sights were off for my eye.  I tried to hit the target that spins around to the other side when hit.  It didn't happen on the four shots I took at it.  I did hit the big target the first shot, but that wasn't too hard.

The next shooting stage was with the rifle.  We were trying to knock down the metal pins like one of those old shooting game galleries.  The first two targets I hit.  But I hit them so low it didn't turn the target over.  I hit the next three targets up higher so they fell down.  But the good news is I hit all five targets I was aiming at.

Next up came the shotgun.  Of all the funny things, I had never shot a double barrel before.  This one also had two triggers.  That made it tricky because of the interesting target.  You see, you would aim and hit a target that was somewhat shaped like a man.  Then a split second later a clay pigeon would come flying straight up in the air.  I actually managed to hit the clay pigeon.  I think I only hit it with one of the pellets, but it did break apart before it hit the ground.

The range had a large canyon right behind it.  So it made it the perfect place to put a range.

So I said good-bye to Maria, and made my way back.  She had another troop waiting to shoot, and a few more were coming up behind them.  So I kept taking photos from the trail.

What did I have to do to take such wonderful shots?  Why stand on a dangerous slick ledge, that's all.

I took some more photos of the plant life.

Next up I stopped at the Saloon, and ordered a Sarsaparilla.  (Which is actually Mug Root Beer.)  I have to say, it was pretty awesome on a hot day.  I haven't had a sugary drink in a long time.  So I just ordered the one.  I also bought a commemorative mug at the Cantina.

I went to the Ponil Trading Post after that, and bought a Ponil patch.  I was able to talk to Nancy who was a resident of the area, and manager of Ponil.  It was nice talking to her.  She really knew about the history of the place, as well as, all sorts of great information.

After that it was time to head back to the truck.  Before I came I had brought three apples for the horses.  But honestly, the horses get all the attention.  I found the section where all the donkeys live as I was making my way to my truck.  So I decided to give them a little love, and cut up the pieces of apple for them.

Once I got their attention with the apples, the scene looked like this.

I then decided to start playing my guitar for them.  They were NOT impressed, and just kind of walked away.  I was trying to be "The Burro Whisperer."  But that didn't happen.  We had one guy here in 2004 who was a burro whisperer.  I think he will be the only one in Philmont history.

Once I slide into my truck I started back down the road.  There were a few horses around the road so I took a few photos of them.

I was halfway back to the main road when I noticed something I had seen coming in.  I was hoping it wouldn't still be there.  But hey?  Who bothers a dead skunk in the middle of the road?

I can still smell that thing.

So I was a couple of miles from the road, and one thing struck me funny.  I thought, "Is that safe?  Because that doesn't look safe."

Closer.

Let's zoom the camera in closer.

Okay, that thing is ready to fall at anytime.  I don't trust it.  I was very careful driving by.

So my next stop was at Chase Ranch.  However, I didn't get to spend much time there.  It was getting late in the day, and I was tired and hungry.  So I stopped for a few photos, and told the staff I would be visiting there another day.

I'm going to hold off on showing those photos.  Since I am heading back to Chase Ranch I will group all the photos together in one blog post.

One thing I did for the staff is I took their garbage.  I put it in the back of my pickup truck, and dropped it off at the large roll-off dumpsters.  Then I dropped some things off at my office.  Next, I drove back into town, and finally ate at the St. James Hotel.

Finally!  Finally someone in this town can cook chicken wings!  I paid a hell of a lot for iced tea, chicken wings, and a house salad, but it was so good to get away from the dining hall.  Seriously, the dining hall doesn't add salt to their food.  I know, "You can always add to it," but it's not the same.

But the St. James is the best in town, but it's also packed.  Can you imagine being a waitress to a table to 12 members of a Boy Scout troop?  Then, add that up, because you have a number of troops coming in.  That waitress was about at her wits end.

She was a bit snarky, but she had probably been working for 12 hours straight at that point.  I did tip her well.  She was doing everything she could.  And they were seriously shorthanded.  They could have used another five people just for that part of the dining room.  That's not including all the other parts.

After that, I came back to my dorm, cleaned up, and just crashed.  It was one of the few times my body was more tired than my mind.  I was just out of energy.  It did get hot that day.  I suspect that I needed to drink more water than I did.  Because I think I knocked back an entire half-gallon of iced tea.

So today I have rested.  I know my doctors wanted me to rest the knee, so that's what I've been doing.  Today I've focused on just doing fun stuff like playing games, writing, and taking a monster nap.  I'll say, it's worked for me.  Tomorrow I will be at the doctor's office receiving an X-Ray of my knee.  I hope to swing back by Chase Ranch for one of the tours.  And yes, I plan on taking lots of photos.