Back in the 1940s I went to a place we called Victor. Like so many places in rural Oklahoma, Victor has completely faded away. Oh, there are still a few people strung up and down Highway 270 just East of the Big Caston bridge but the only place left that I know is my Uncle Herman’s place. Herman was a brother to Dad. He operated a grocery-gas-station there. A pretty nice one, too. Did a good business. Victor had a school nearby and there was a church and Maxie Cemetery just south of the junction. My grandparents lived just north on Goat Ridge Road, and the road to Wolf Mountain.

I had cousins at Victor, too. Cousin Deleta, Evonne and Ray, Uncle Herman’s kids, were there. Ray still lives there. Up the highway my Dad’s sister Willie lived. She and Uncle Elmer had a swarm of girls all somewhat near my age. Their daughter, Ruby, and Herman’s daughter were the same age as me and I would walk down the dirt road the 2 miles or so and enjoy their company. All this, you may say is leading up to something. A story? Yes.

Gerald and I would go down there every summer to work on grandpa’s farm. Gerald says that our time up on Goat Ridge was like the movie “Bridge Over the River Kwai.” The movie is the story of Japs using British and American POWs as slave labor to build a bridge over the River Kwai. A story of hard work in the tropical heat, flies, and bugs galore and fatigue to boot. So, it was a real treat for me to escape the hoe and sprout cutting labor that befell me up on the “Ridge” and visit Ruby and Deleta.

The Big Caston Creek was near Uncle Elmer’s farm and it was great to play in with Deleta and Ruby. And a relief to just be down on their farm. They even had electricity and stuff. Uncle Elmer’s mom stayed with them a lot. On this particular summer I learned that the agile and active lady was 114 years old. I had never heard of anyone so old. And while she was active in her body, her mind had long gone astray. She lived in a world of her own and was not responsible for what she might do.

Uncle Elmer had to go to Wister, 4 miles east on Highway 270. “I need to go to the bank, and I want you two to keep a close eye on Mama.” We agreed, nothing to it. She was seated in her front porch rocker looking out at the traffic on the highway. Ruby and I continued to play around in the yard and when Uncle Elmer returned a few minutes later, he asked, “Where’s Mama?” We looked at the porch and the rocker was empty. The front gate was still latched. But Grandma was long gone.

We searched the house, the outbuildings and even the hay loft in the big barn. No Mama. Elmer had me run down the highway and get Uncle Herman and his family up to help find her. “She must have gone up in the woods,” Elmer said. Pretty soon, there was a crowd of people on both sides of the highway looking under bridges and calling her name. I can still hear my poor old Uncle out there shouting, “Mama! Mama!” Hours went by. Our search widened. I was fearful for my own life. My Uncle had already predicted a dim future for Ruby and had looked me right in the eye saying, “Here you two are. Twelve years old and can’t even watch my Mama for me 10 minutes.”

About dusky-dark a sheriff’s car pulled up. Grandma Wilson had hitched a ride on the highway to McAlester. Unable to finagle a bus ticket to Missouri she made enough of a scene to get arrested. The Sheriff knew her. Not her first escape. He brought her home. I finally went home, too. Elmer did not kill any of us. And it was reported that he took her to another relative’s house after that. For a while.

I hope you all take good care of your responsibilities this spring and keep a keen eye on your elderly kin. And I hope you will remember to go to church Sunday. I think this COVID thing is about over. And I love hearing from you. Usually.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

cwaynebullard@gmail.com