In Memory of Dad

Here is something I wrote about my dad, Dewey Keck. Since it is Father's Day Weekend, I wanted to share it in his memory.

My dad, Dewey (no middle name) Keck was born Jan. 12th, 1912. We all know the biggest news of that year was the sinking of the Titantic in April, but I am sure that my grandparents' lives were far and away different from those who traveled on that fateful voyage. Dad was born in a dugout house during a bad ice and snow storm to Mollie (Mary Francine) Grove and Olloway Wm. Keck. They had just moved their 2 other sons (Bonnie and Tinker) up to Carter County, Okla., from Nocona, Texas. They traveled in wagons pulled by Mr. Keck's team of mules. A cowboy who, in his youth, rode the Chisolm Trail, my grandfather took his family up to the Oklahoma oil boom area of Wirt (Ragtown), Okla., to find work. He used his teams of mules to move dirt for roads and dikes in those oil fields where slush pits were dug and foundations for the large tanks that held the crude were being built. Mollie was expecting my dad when they crossed the Red River and made their way to their new life.

Mules and Jennys (half mule-half horse) played a large role in my dad and his brothers childhood. Bonnie and Tinker hauled water with their Jennys and sold it to the neighbors in the community. As Dad grew up, he played all over the country and along a creek that ran near the place that the family moved to from the temporary home in the dugout. His Jenny was named, Ole Blue. As was the custom, these Jennys ran free all over the countryside and kids from the area would round them up and ride them and set them loose and then another group of kids would catch them and ride them for a time. After Dad grew older, he ultimately lost track of Ole Blue, until one day a wagon pulled up belonging to an old man that sold odds and ends to the country folk. They called him the old junker.

Suddenly, Dad recognized Old Blue in the team of Jennys pulling the old junker's wagon. He rushed out to see him and found that Ole Blue was not the healthy Jenny he had played with for so many years. He had been beaten and only had one eye and held numerous scars around his head and neck. Dad lost his temper and started yelling at the old junker and all the while started unharnessing Ole Blue. He could not bear to see his old childhood friend in that condition. But my grandfather (The Old Man) stopped him and told him that Ole Blue belonged to the junker now and that Dad had to let him go. Dad told me that watching the junker ride off with Ole Blue was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

This is a poem I wrote about Dad and Ole Blue.

OLE BLUE

The Old Man lead the Jennys across the path towards the orchard.

The two were jumpy and wild-eyed
New to the place,
A mare and her colt.

The mare became by brother's and the colt was given to me.

I named him, "Ole Blue".

I suppose we were well matched,
Leggy and sprite,
Running wild in the country,

Loners in a crowd.

Together, we played out the old cowboy stories

Told by the Old Man
Leaned back in his chair
On winter nights in the front room.

No one really ever owned Ole Blue
True to his spirit,
Me lying the the dust at his feet.

But we had that understanding.

Time made that understanding binding, as we grew sleek and tall.

Kindly remembering the races,
Running madly through the thickets
To drink finally the cold spring water.

Each of us had our own paths to trod
Inroads to wander,
Pains to endure.

Only to meet once again and embrace for a moment.

Sweet touch of childhood melting,

And I watched you ride away.

By: Vickie Keck Nowlin

Dad died April 1st, 2001. I love you Dad....Happy Father's Day!!
Your "Sweetheart of the Hills", Vickie Sue