Memories – Uncle Bill

Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bill Williams lived on a farm just outside Kosse, a small town not too far from Marlin or from Bremond. Most of my memories of their house are from when I was a young kid. Uncle Bill was a hard-working farmer and spent his life working the land and cattle. I remember his tractor, the barn where he stored the corn he used for feed, and an old barn cat that just kept the mice under control. I remember a tank not too far from the house that the cows would go to for water and the dust that would kick up when trucks would go down the roads.

I remember the wallpaper that was in some of the rooms and I remember the windup clock that hung in the living room. At night, I could hear the ticking and the chime of the hour and half-hour. As a child, I had a hard time sleeping in any new place and still have that same issue at times. Many years later as a married adult, Eva and I moved into a new house and a few rooms in that house had wallpaper as it had gone back in style. A couple years later, I bought a windup clock that has that same sound and I am so used to it that much of the time I don’t even notice the sound. At times when I am alone, I remember times at the Williams house as a child.

I was probably 12 or 13 when I got a single-shot .22LR rifle for Christmas and I was so excited. My older brother had one, but I got one of my own. Sometime after that, we went to see Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bill for the weekend and Dad told me to take my rifle. I got it and the box of bullets and he put them in the trunk with the other stuff. After we got there and had lunch, Uncle Bill told me to get my rifle and get in the truck. Uncle Bill was driving, with me in the middle and Dad on the other side while we were going down some dirt roads. He stopped the truck and told me to take my rifle and get in the bed of the truck and stand up behind the cab looking down the road where we were going. He said I might see squirrels in the area. He had only driven a short distance when he stopped the truck and pointed to a squirrel to shoot. I loaded a bullet and cocked the gun and fired the rifle. I missed it, but it was exciting. A little bit later I got another chance and hit one. My Dad was not a hunter nor a fisherman so that was a first for me. Later in life, I was able to hunt and fish and have memories of those times, but the time when Uncle Bill took me that day, that memory is special.