My Memorial to My Grandfather: part 12

Somewhere around the late 30’s to early 40s, Oscar and Anna Jane, with their five kids along for the adventure, made what would amount to the first of two total trips back to the Colorado farmland of her father and family.  This intent to reestablish family contacts was precipitated by a visit from her brother Eddie, who was living in Oregon at that time, accompanied by a most special guest: Anna Jane’s youngest sister Margaret, a sister of whom she was not even aware.  Eddie was taking her to live with him in Oregon, at a place called Klamath Falls.

One of the siblings with whom Anna Jane reestablished contact was her younger sister Lula.  Lula introduced her to her husband Rudy Meyer and their children.  Rudy was her second husband, an electrician by trade, her first husband being a man by the name of Earl Van Buren.  He was an abusive man who moved her to a log cabin in the Colorado mountains, where he kept her and the kids locked away, while he spent his time smoking the marijuana he enjoyed.

Lula somehow managed to escape from that imprisonment and made her way down the mountain to the community of Golden Colorado.  The first door to the first house she knocked on was that of a pastor of the Nazarene Church, who helped her in her distraught state of affairs.  It was there she met her second husband, both remaining strongly involved in that particular community of believers, Rudy Meyers, standing out as a night and day contrast to the first man she married.

Sadly, and for some unconscionable reason, Lula first husband’s parents sued for custody of one of her children – and somehow they won!

As Anna Jane was reconnecting with her family, Oscar’s faithful presence in Dickinson County, exercising his superior knowledge and experience over all things mechanical (people brought him everything and anything to fix) had yet to garner him the respect from his family members desired.  They were some of the worst from whom to try and draw payment for his work.  They brought him their vehicles for repair; and then they criticized him for not attending Sunday church – he remaining at his garage to finish the very work those same family members required for their own work to begin again come Monday morning!

In the early 1940s, somewhere around 1941 or 1942, Oscar, accompanied by the son of one of his brothers (for the most part, the relationships he carried on with his nephews and nieces – they were more like cousins, or even siblings, due to the closeness in age shared – were the amiable ones lacking from the older members of the Sexton family) made a trip to Osage City.  It was the best location to acquire any coal one might require for the coming cold weather.

Along with the truck they drove, a trailer was pulled from behind to return with as much coal as was possible since the trip was far.  It was a day cold and windy; and to load the truck, the trailer first had to be unlatched.  When it came time to hook the trailer back onto the end of the truck, the blustery weather, coupled alongside the width of the truck, made it impossible to see, or even hear, Oscar as the truck backed into position for the trailer could be reattached.  The truck struck him, directly where his liver could be found.

The accident incapacitated him for a time, but soon he was up and around, carrying on with the same tasks to occupy his days since returning to Abilene in ’24.  All appeared like he would escape this injury unscathed as usual business continued about the farm.

A few years later, Oscar’s eldest son Dean was drafted into the Army and sent over to Europe to fight in the Second World War.  After his second son Gene graduated high school, and Europe fell with the surrender of Nazi Germany, Gene was also drafted into the war effort, being sent over to Japan following Japan’s own surrender to the Allies.

Oscar, meanwhile, began losing strength.  He was growing weaker and weaker.  His injury from the coal accident developed into an inoperable cancer within his liver.  It sapped him of his strength; and his weight made a drastic cut into half the man he actually was.  He became bedridden, from one day to the next, and no one knew which day might become his last.

Someone was always sitting with him, including his two sons who had gone off to war.  They had returned, learning of the condition in which their father lay.

In his bedfast state, Oscar did call for the members of his family with whom he had known difficulty over the years – including Harvey – and he apologized for any dissension he might have caused.  He sought to make things right by tempering any animosity, as best as he was able.

It was on the morning of August 1^st, in the year of 1946, with his family constantly at hand that Oscar Olen Sexton passed away in his home south of Abilene Kansas.  He was a mere ten days shy of his 47^th birthday.  He left behind his five children and his wife of twenty-two years, Anna Jane Welch.  From those five children, thirteen grandchildren would emerge; from those grandchildren, eighteen great grandchildren would be born.  Who knows how many shall follow hence?

I derided the stories which comprised this narrative biography from my father and my aunt, children of my grandfather, and also from a cousin of theirs, the child of one of my grandfather’s brothers.   All dates and places are accurate.  Every name mentioned is of a real person.  That which I have assumed, what I have fictionalized to weave this narrative together, are as follows: my grandfather’s mother, while I am not entirely certain of when her Holt family emigrated from Johnson County Illinois to Butler County Kansas, there is a census from 1860 in which her father, William Holt, is listed.  Since Bourbon County is on the border, and Fort Scott is the county seat today, I am assuming William Holt may have been part of the military, stationed there in 1860, though I have yet to discover any documentation confirming this.  Also, William Holt would be a rather common name, so I fully acknowledge I may have a different William Holt than who was the father to my great grandmother.

I am also assuming James Taylor Sexton and Emma Ann Holt met in Johnson County Illinois.  I have no documentation of this being true; and family lore states that their “honeymoon” was the wagon ride from Butler County to Dickinson County, where James Sexton lived.

My grandfather did work as a fireman on the trains, but where he did so and when – that information I do not have.  I am presuming it would either have occurred prior to his leaving Abilene for Greeley, or when he actually lived in Long Beach.  Logically, when coupling his mechanically-inclined mind, which was fact, with working on a locomotive, it makes more sense to have happened prior to Greeley.  I am taking the leap he drew his interest in automobiles from what he learned working on the trains – for he loathed farming.  This was followed by, I am assuming, someone he met while engaged in this work, who saw his curious interest, and knew of the man who would become his partner in the garage in Greeley. 

The location of the garage in Greeley, being next to the café where my grandmother work, is accurate; and my assumption of it not being located within the hub of other garages in Greeley is based upon a trip to Greeley of my own, where it appeared most garages were located within a central downtown area.

The story of how Anna Jane told Oscar she was leaving for Long Beach with her brother Eddie is one of my creations.  My grandfather did hobo it on the trains to reach Long Beach; but I am assuming Eddie, though still a young man himself, known for his business sense, managed to acquire the necessary funds for the train tickets.

The entire episode in Long Beach is an assumption on my part.  Nothing is known of my grandparents time there, aside from the fact they were there.  One aspect I chose not to include was of my grandmother’s grandfather, her mother’s father, Albert Van Goad, as well as some of his children, my grandmother’s aunts and uncles, were in Long Beach at this same time.  My grandmother’s older sister Flora, she also was living in Long Beach.  It seems a bit of a coincidence, all these different family members could descend upon the same city, at the same time of history, the 1920s, without knowing the either was there; but I am concluding, being that it was the 1920s and the only means of correspondence was by letter, none of the three knew where the others were.  If this is an accurate guess, what would have brought the three of them to Long Beach, I do not know.

It is somewhat similar to my assumption on the automobile industry.  When they began to make a presence in Kansas, or even Colorado, I have no clue.  I am assuming it was at some juncture of that pre-1920 to early 1920 period; and being that new developments always seem to arise on the coasts before they work their way towards the central parts of the country, I am presuming the industry in California would have been booming for any young man wishing to make a life for himself as a mechanic of these new machines.  However, again, this is mere extrapolation on my part of how it might be.  I have no idea how long my grandparents lived in Long Beach; I know not where they lived while there.  All I know is they were there.

My grandmother did receive a letter from my grandfather’s mother.  The only verifiable aspect of the letter was the “fine little cottage”, which is what brought the two of them back from California.  Being that my grandfather did not care for the farming life, I invented the story of them using the land for a garage.  The garage was actually built after the two eldest sons, Dean and Gene, were able to tend to the needs of the farm – somewhere in the 1930s.

With my grandmother, I tried to take into account of youth, while matching that with the mature nature of responsibility she exhibited throughout her life.  My grandfather, he did experience difficulty with his family, and I am assuming it came from his disinterest in farming.  The intensity of this difficulty manifested itself primarily with his brother Harvey, who proved himself a problem to most of the family.

This stands as some of my allusions to fact within the story of my grandfather Oscar Sexton.  He never lived the life he sought for himself – with the exception of the girl he married and the kids he became a father to – and I often wonder how differently his life, as well as those children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren to follow would have been if he had seen the support from his family that should have been given.  This difficulty is what has caused me to see my grandfather as somewhat of a visionary, farsighted man, trapped within an area of only the here and now. 

I am not sure where I will submit this for consideration; but if anyone ever reads these words, and finds themselves with further questions as to what was verifiably accurate and what I conjure from assumptions on what might have been, ask whatever you will.  I will also attempt to write a more thorough exploration of these facts and fictions at some later date.

Wendall Paul Sexton