Let Me Tell You a Story

Much of my family originated from Oklahoma roots. One was a speculator coming out with the land rush in 1893 and another was a gambler, yet after several generations of hard working families, our family has prospered and grown.
As a young teen, I would go back to visit my kin in the summers. One year I had occasion to stay for a while with my aunt and uncle. They lived outside of town on land my uncle’s family had settled and worked for generations.
Across the street from my uncle’s house stood an old store. It served somewhat as the community house. It housed a general store, a gas pump; it housed mail boxes like a post office, and quick lunches were served from a couple of hotplates. When there was a meeting of the community, a crowd would gather at the store, often overflowing to outside. Political issues would be discussed from a speaker standing on the front steps and talking at the top of his lungs.
I liked going there with my cousin. It was managed by one of his aunts and his uncle sold feed and veterinary supplies from a building next to the store. We would look over the numerous jars of hard candy in order to select the best one. A penny would buy a handful of sweets which we quickly consumed.
The center of the store was open except for a large black cast iron pot belly stove. One winter I went into the store and found many of the locals backed up to the heater as they soaked in its radiant heat. Many chewed tobacco and would spit in cups or one of the spittoons reserved for that purpose. Many of the country’s problems were solved while warming their behinds.
Now that I am older and looking back to those days, I recognize the simplicity of that era yet they faced much harder trials than we do today. They made their entire living from the land. A spell of bad weather could ruin their crops and jeopardize their future. I have often complained about the stress I have had to face, but I have never been at risk for my livelihood.
We are not necessarily a product of our past, but each of us has been marked by what we have seen and experienced. Much like a birthmark, our families have taught us how to live and what values to live by, and we have in turn taught our children.
I know I can never go back to that old store and feel the same influences I felt then, but I still long for the peace of that time. That is why I think I am so lucky. I have the love to remember and my stories to tell. Like most storytellers, I embellish as needed to serve my purpose and ignore that which I choose. That is what makes me smile, for I am the storyteller.