1319 Views
2 Comments
1319 Views
If you picture a valley as a bowl or a long trough between lines of mountains, Caney is not in a valley. But Urban S. Gibbs, a patriarch who had the stern, unforgiving look of John Brown, was President of our bank and keeper of Caney’s money. He called his bank...
1524 Views
1524 Views
1996 Views
1996 Views
My youngest daughter, Melanie, would have enjoyed 'The Howdy Doody Show' as a ventriliquist in her own right!
1437 Views
1437 Views
1675 Views
1675 Views
1731 Views
1731 Views
1545 Views
1545 Views
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1708 Views
1624 Views
1624 Views
Windsock Estates - Hang glider vista When I was between the ages of 2-4 years I lived in an apartment complex that was adjacent to the local community airport in North Conway, N.H. The name of the apartment complex was Windsock Estates...What a great name. The airport and surrounding town was...
1480 Views
1480 Views
3039 Views
3039 Views
I just want to mention that in my life time I have seen so many things come and go and just wanted to mention a few, S & H Green stamps, metal ice cube trays with a lever to loosen and drop the ice out, Roller skates with metal wheels...
819 Views
819 Views
As a young girl, I loved to visit my grandparents. I would ride my bicycle to their house. We lived on 7th East in Salt Lake City, Utah and they lived on Leland Avenue, about three or four blocks away. I remember that my grandfather [Folkert T. Folkers] often sat in...
2863 Views
2863 Views
1659 Views
1659 Views
A couple of miles west of my home town, Caney KS, after crossing an old iron truss bridge spanning the muddy Caney River on a narrow asphalt country road there was a crossroads. To the north the road ran a few miles and then fizzled out. To the south it turned into...
1471 Views
1471 Views
Sometimes life can be complicated. My Father deserted our family shortly after I was born. My two sisters were seven and eight years older than me and were upset and, at my Mother’s wishes, they were not to discuss this with me until I was older. In grade school, My sisters...
1640 Views
1640 Views
Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE Northwest of my little home town a lonely hill stood guard over the murky waters of Cheyenne Creek, the Santa Fe Railroad tracks, and the swampy liquid of the Caney River as it moved lazily southward towards Bartlesville. A rutted, rocky, road that...
1210 Views
1210 Views
2769 Views
2769 Views
1419 Views
1419 Views
My parents owned a small business and worked incredibly long hours. This was in the 50s when working women were still something of an oddity and most of the women on our block were stay-at-home moms. In our unconventional household, my older sister, Jackie, and I were expected to assume the...
1872 Views
1872 Views
