Family Ties

Prizes

The Atoka County Times

July 14, 1960

Caddo, Route 3

Mrs. John Springer

            Harvest time for our produce; what a good time, for it is then that we see so many of our nice friends we have made over the past years and when we meet a few new ones.

            Our oldest daughter, Mrs. Colleen Simmons, and her four children have been visiting with me the past week. We canned lots of things for her and generally caught up on our visiting from the years past when she lived in California and could not come home.

            Colleen was proudly showing off a new sewing machine she had won by dropping her name in a box at a grocery store where she traded. It was a portable electric and had a price tag of over a hundred dollars on it. Having won several prizes over the past years, I know just how happy it made her. At one time I won a hundred-dollar check from Art Linkletter; also various prizes like a fifty-dollar permit to buy groceries from the store of my choice. I can remember back when years ago I won a Morning Glory mattress. I believe $5.00 and a table-model flashlight was my first winning. I haven’t kept up with the rest, but I have more than paid for my postage over and over again.

F.D.R.

Durant Weekly News

January 15, 1962

Thoughts…

FDR Great President, Time Shows

By Della Springer

            It isn’t usual for me to write on just one subject. Most times my writing is general, but I got to thinking of the leaders of our land, past and present. I think a lot of our president that we have now, but the greatest one in my estimation was Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

            Our nation was tottering on the verge of bankruptcy when he took office. As many of you remember, times were awful. Most work to be had paid only from 50 cents to one dollar a day. Jobless pounded the pavement day after weary day, vainly searching for work that was not to be had.

            Long lines at soup kitchens blocked traffic, breaking the huger of many, but also breaking their spirits and doing untold damage to their pride.

            Farm produce sold for a pittance, scarcely enough to pay off the loan that inevitably came due in the fall. –Then we elected a president – but wait. I can best tell it with a poem I wrote years ago. I know it has been published several times, but here it is again – lest you forget:

            Backward turn backward Oh time in your flight,

            Give us a leader that does things just right.

            A leader so gentle, so kind and so true,

            He gave his all gladly for me and for you.

 

            When all seemed lost, jobless thronged the street,

            He brought forth prosperity and plenty to eat.

            He gave his life finally, to bring things to par,

            Let’s never forget him, our own F. D. R.

 

From Don’t Know Much About the Presidents, by Kenneth C. Davis:

Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882-1945)

Elected president in 1933 by a landslide vote. (Bryan County: Roosevelt- 7,650; Hoover- 825)

Roosevelt died in office in 1945. It was his third term.

 

            “He was elected at the moment of America’s gravest crisis since Lincoln confronted secession, with the nation crippled by an economic disaster so severe that millions had simply lost hope. When the full fury of the Great Depression was unleashed on the country --- closing banks and business, forcing people from their jobs and homes, leaving millions starving --- the idea that the government should actually do something about it was still heresy, especially to the Republican Party and the business class. Government was supposed to stay out of the way and let the markets fix things. To do otherwise was Socialism, Bolshevism. And certainly un-American.

            Franklin D. Roosevelt had other ideas.”

Good News

Durant Daily Democrat

September 11, 1960

Thoughts

People Like to Read Both the Glad and the Gory Stories

By Della Springer

            I just got to thinking the other day about the gruesome headlines in papers nowadays. I wonder if it is the public’s craving for gory, terrible things that causes our editors to dramatize headlines so. For instance, in a paper from one of our larger cities I find, “Man Shoots Neighbor in Back Yard”. Come to think of it, what better place could he have shot him? Another says, “Feud breaks out afresh with the death of two people”, or “Woman found strangled by son-in-law”. (oops, that might give my sons-in-law ideas.)

            The following are headlines that would make me stop, read, and grow alive with interest: “Neighbors rebuild house destroyed by fire” or “Donations taken for family who have suffered great illness”. It is only human nature to let such wonderful things as the working together of friends for the good of others, to go unnoticed, but it would be nice to have all the headlines run on such pleasantries and not a word about sin and evil.

            We are all guilty in spreading bad news. A person who would not walk across the road to convey good news would, on the other hand, walk a mile to tell something of a tragic nature.

 

Did you hear the one about the fellow from way back in the hills who died upon seeing his first car?

He didn’t see it soon enough.

Ira, 1914

Pony Poem

Indian Citizen

February 8, 1945

“Farewell to My Pony”

Dedicated to my son, John L. Springer, Camp Fannin, Texas

I’ve ridden many happy miles

On your faithful back,

If you wonder why

I’m saying goodbye

I’ll try to explain a grim fact.

 

I’ve received a call from my country

And I’m willing to answer that call,

But you cannot go

My beloved Pinto,

You must try to understand, that’s all.

 

I’ll miss you, my pony, I’ll miss you;

I’ll send money home for your keep

But till this war is won

We must both carry on,

I’ll be riding the range in a jeep.

 

I’d rather have you, my cow pony,

You and my old lariat.

With the help of you

My old faithful two,

We could string Hitler up, I’ll bet.

Mrs. Della Springer, Caddo, Okla.

Pony Poem

Indian Citizen

February 8, 1945

“Farewell to My Pony”

Dedicated to my son, John L. Springer, Camp Fannin, Texas

I’ve ridden many happy miles

On your faithful back,

If you wonder why

I’m saying goodbye

I’ll try to explain a grim fact.

 

I’ve received a call from my country

And I’m willing to answer that call,

But you cannot go

My beloved Pinto,

You must try to understand, that’s all.

 

I’ll miss you, my pony, I’ll miss you;

I’ll send money home for your keep

But till this war is won

We must both carry on,

I’ll be riding the range in a jeep.

 

I’d rather have you, my cow pony,

You and my old lariat.

With the help of you

My old faithful two,

We could string Hitler up, I’ll bet.

Mrs. Della Springer, Caddo, Okla.

Liberty Hill, 1941

Indian Citizen

July 24, 1941

Liberty Hill

                The summer term of school got off to a good start June 14 with an attendance of about 30 students; will hold two months, then vacate for the harvest.

                Will Green and family, with two or three sidekicks, left for California this week to hunt for work. It looks like a long leap in the dark, but we wish them success. Some of them left the makings of a good job in their own field, if only they had the executive ability to develop it; but as water will seek its level, just as sure, men will seek theirs.

                Mrs. Della Springer fell and sprained her arm one day last week – is carrying her arm in a sling at present. It is slowly improving now.

              J.L. Springer and family went to Roy O’hern’s Sunday to eat a goose dinner. Both families are stock famers in a small way and the drought has caught them without feed and has just about cooked their goose, hence the feast.

                Well, it has rained most everywhere except at Liberty. Lafe Culter says there is something wrong with the citizens of our community for the coveted summer showers roll up to within a mile of us in every direction, and leave us high and dry. It has us singled out to about three families now without the much-wanted rains. We intend to get together and cast lots to see who is the culprit.

                There are three outstanding liars of Liberty – Cy Grizzel is one of them and Rufe Bolts is the other two.

Friendship, 1943

Life...

The Durant Weekly News

May 18, 1962

Life is Not Certain and Death Sure

By Della Springer

                It’s getting a little dry around these parts, looks a little rainy though this morning, so by the time this comes out it might be raining – I hope.

                Life is uncertain and death is sure. I had not been to church for four weeks on account of my injury*, until Sunday. There was one person missing since I had attended, called away suddenly into a life far better than she had on this earth.

                Nonetheless, we miss her terribly and somehow the building seemed empty without her sweet smile when her eyes met mine. I am speaking about Lucy Edwards, a friend to everyone, always ready to help out in any Christian endeavor, or worthy cause. Yes, we will miss her, but she has left the cares of this old world behind and is now residing in a place untouched by earthly sorrows.

                I suppose from now until May 22 our television programs will be all cluttered up with political bickering and back-biting wherein each candidate will hurl accusations at the other. Frankly, I had rather watch Rifleman. At least he plays fair and shoots them dead with clean bullets, while in a political battle bullets of scandal are used to cripple a person’s character from which there is little chance for complete recovery. It’s a dirty business and I want no part of it.

                We have one clever old gentleman in Atoka county that ran for office. He was bitterly against public speaking, and when asked why, he said the longer he talked, the less votes he got. I guess he was right. He lost. I admire his honesty though, and after hearing the two leading candidates for governor fuss like underprivileged kids, I feel like writing just anybody’s name on my ballot and giving them my vote.

*She fell off the porch and badly sprained her ankle.

Gone Too Soon

Found this poem today. I'd never seen it before. It was in the Indian Citizen, Atoka, March 7, 1940.