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A View Of Columbus Through Rose-Colored Glasses
How do you lose a favorite cousin? Just in case you need to know right, the answer is that I found her.
Martha Jo Birdwell McMillin was born on March 24, 1937. I was a bit older. We had a grand time playing monopoly, building playhouses, selling lemonade from a stand or swimming at the beach made by the Pecos River in Carlsbad, New Mexico.
Our favorite enterprise was an office with the big typewriter that Martha’s Paw Paw had kept after retirement. If we were in Texas at the ranch, we rode horses.
Often, we were on the horses with ball gowns from Aunt Frances’ stack. There were deep gulleys leading to the stock tank. Most of our adventures were in the gulleys. I hope you know about gulleys.
As we graduated from high school the same year, our next step was McMurry College in Abilene. After the death of my grandfather, we actually lived a few houses apart on the same street.
Martha lived with her family, and since her dad was a car dealer, she had the privilege of driving a 1927 yellow Cadillac convertible. After both of us had married, there were many miles between us while Arthur was away with the army.
It was easy to let the separation create an absence in our communication. That’s the easiest part of life’s drama. I really don’t remember which one of us made the effort to reconnect, but we did and renewed our friendship.
All this time, Arthur and Martha lived in Taft, TX near the coast. At this stage, we all had careers and had moved from Monopoly to Bridge. It was just as much fun to laugh and chuckle about our younger years.
Then came years of infirmities. Martha dealt with cancer and I suffered a stroke. I guess there were reasons for our losing track. However, I never gave up on our getting back together.
I can’t remember how many years we lost, but I never gave up and went through several searches such as obituaries. I even talked with the Taft Police and they informed me of Arthur’s death. However, there were no clues to Martha’s where-a-bouts.
Last week, my friend Betty Adams in La Grange listened to my story and offered to lend a hand. Betty’s daughter, who is near the coast, was able to connect with Martha’s daughter via Facebook and all of a sudden all of the doors began to open. Hallelujah.
Yes, I found Martha and spoke with her for quite a while. Martha is alive and living happily in an assisted living faci l ity. She noted that her home (assisted living) was across the street from the country club and I recalled how she liked the finer things.
Most of us don’t change with old age. We will visit Martha soon and remember her birthday on March 24. This article is a simple reminder to never lose track of those who helped you grow up. Stay in touch. Martha kept saying that she felt so good. So did I.
