R.W. and Verna Sharp, my maternal grandparent |
The once bustling community is an abandoned jungle of rusty cars and empty houses. They compete with young outlaw trees for attention and air. It is beyond sad. I recently returned for a family reunion in the church where my grandfather preached. This community was their home for many years and at several different times. My mother graduated from high school in Jefferson. Her former school only a derelict shamble of bricks and beams. Only a few walls remain,
My grandparents were so proud of their little house. Grandma Sharp tended her roses, iris, and lilies. Grandpa grew gardens of corn, peas, beans, and potatoes. He raised chickens and enjoyed watching them chase grasshoppers throughout the yard. It was a simple life. It was an honest life. It was a beautiful life. And it gave me a foundation for living that I continue to build upon today.
My grandparents cozy home years ago. They took great pride in caring for the little house and gardens. |
The same view of their house.....2019. It saddens me to see it in this condition. |
The RW and Verna Sharp home had a solid tradition of resting after lunch. Everyone rested. As a young girl, I didn't appreciate the forced pause in the middle of the day. However, I treasured it as I got older. Thirty minutes of reading, resting, or napping. Mandatory rest! What a beautiful notion.
The garage framed by the garden. |
My time with Grandpa was just as enjoyable. We fed and watered the chickens and worked in his garden. One of my favorite memories is helping him rob the bee hives. I remember him cutting the thick comb out of the frames, dropping the chunks into layers of cheesecloth draped tightly over a large bucket. He broke the honeycomb up with his hands, the thick golden liquid oozing out between his fingers. After the bucket was full, the golden reward was carefully poured into pristine jars.
Grandma Sharp with her great-granddaughters, Karolyn and Kathryn. |
In one corner of the living room stood a bookshelf with volumes of Grandmothers books. The top shelf held a menagerie of turtles and roadrunners. They were presents to my Grandpa from his grandchildren. Every summer, a massive water cooler hummed in the living room window. It cooled the living room with heavy, humid air. It was enough to take the edge off the Oklahoma heat. It was wonderful.
My grandmother and me enjoying her garden with my daughters. |
Their home was small, but it was filled with love. They saw the good in others. They saw the good in me. They set an example of helping others and giving of their talents. They gave when they didn't have much to give by typical standards. They made love a verb.... an action....They lived love.
The remaining structure of the Jefferson schools. |