Older Than Dirt!

I hasn't been affle-gaffling too much lately, at least not that I'd want to post, but I wrote up this liitle gem the other day, and I thought it deserved a spot on my blog.

We actually went horse-back riding this morning, and got up early (at least early for us) and everything. I told Joan last night that we needed to go riding early while it was still cooler. She asked me what I meant when I said "early" and I told her "as early as you want to go."

So-o-o-o-o-o, about 7:10 or so, in she came with a cup of coffee, a couple cookies, and proceeded to open the window and let the light in. I guess we were on the trail by 8:30. I know for those of you who know us, this is very HARD to believe, but we really were riding by 8:30. (we couldn't believe it either, and I'm sure Big Guy and Blaze were shocked as well. They rarely even get fed until 9:30 or 10:00 in the morning.

Anyway, we had a good ride - went down the old Smithville Highway that runs behind our house and all the way to Smithville. We only went about half way 'cause we knew we'd have to come back, but it was a great ride. Didn't see one car, and the breeze was wonderful. Really helped keep the flies off the horses.

Well, here's my "older than dirt" story. See how many other things you can think of that might fit in here.

One of my boys asked me a while back what my favorite fast food was when I was growing up. I told him, “WE didn’t have fast food ‘back then’, it was all ‘slow’ food.”

“Aw, come on Dad, seriously , where did you all eat?”

“Well, son,” I told him. “It was a place called HOME. Your Grandmother cooked everyday. And when your Granddaddy was home, we all sat down together and ate. If she cooked something we didn’t like, we sat there ‘til we DID like it.”

He was laughing pretty hard by this time, so I didn’t tell him about us having to get permission to LEAVE the table. But I decided to tell him a few other things.

Lots of parents never owned their own homes, they just rented. They never set foot on a golf course, never owned a boat, never traveled very far from home, never had a credit card, but if they did, it said Sears and Roebuck on it. They didn’t know what the word “designer” even meant. They never drove to soccer practice, mainly because no one had ever heard of soccer.

I had a bicycle that weighed fifty pounds and it only had one speed -- SLOW. We didn’t have a TV, only had one phone in the house, and had to remember a person’s number to tell the operator when she said “number please”.

I was 33 before I ate my first pizza. My Daddy didn’t have a car ‘til I was 12 years old. Before that, if we went, we borrowed my uncle’s old Chevy truck, and we boys rode in the back on some benches Daddy made for us. If it rained, we got wet. Or else, we had to go on the train. Because Daddy was a railroader, it was free for us to ride. We were just limited as to where we could go.

Milk was delivered to the back door and the newspaper was delivered to the front door. Ice came in blocks and was delivered whenever we put our card up in the window to show what size block we wanted. The newspaper was a nickel and ice was a penny a pound, delivered.

We went to the movie, maybe once a week, and generally on Saturday. If it was mushy, it meant that the cowboy kissed a girl, with their mouths SHUT! No French kissing. That was considered “dirty!”

There was no such thing as perma-press. All clothes had to be sprinkled and ironed. Wash was only done on Monday because that’s the day the trains didn’t run and cause coal dust to get on them. Clothes were hung on the line outside as we didn’t have a clothes dryer. Dimmer switches were on the floorboard of a car, you stuck your arm out the window to signal which you were going to turn or stop.

Yep, I was really getting going when I noticed he was sound asleep.. Guess he didn’t believe me or was just plain bored.

As I was thinking about the things I was going to tell him, I remembered things like—candy cigarettes, party lines, butch wax, 78 RPM records, rollerskate keys, S&H green stamps Hi-Fi’s, blue flash bulbs, metal ice trays with lever to break the ice loose, pea shooters, P F Flyers, wax coke bottles filled with colored sugar water, Studebaker cars, Edsel cars, wringer washer machines, those old push mowers that you REALLY had to push, those blister-causing shears we had to trim with, curfews which we had better not violate. And there was 25¢ per gallon gasoline, nickel pop and candy bars.

Yep, all just memories. Wonder what kind of memories he will have when he gets to be seventy. And, will they be the kind he will want to share with his kids. I sure hope so.

Bill <<>>wb

Cotton Pickin' Kids

The first year we had the store, I had a bit of time on my hands and decided to do a little bit of farming. I planted several rows of cotton. It did very well and made a bumper crop. Wished I had planted 100 acres of it, but only had 3 rows.

When it was fully developed, I invited the students from the old Octavia school to come out for a field trip to “look and see”. None of them had ever seen cotton growing before. The teachers had them all lined up, and had threatened them with their lives is they touched. I explained a little bit of the way cotton grows, how the bowl weevils get into the boles and eat the blooms.

I told how they used to pick the cotton, and I even had an old cotton sack to show them. I explained how they took it to the cotton gin and ginned it. THEN, I told them to jump in and pick them a couple or three boles. They were like flies swarming into those three rows. The teachers went bananas.

Then, after all had calmed down, I started asking them questions about what cotton was used for. One little girl said her momma used the balls to take off her makeup. One little girl said they had the little sticks with cotton on ‘em to pick their nose with. (Q-tips)

Then I asked if there was anyone else who knew what cotton was for. They all just kinda looked at each other, and at the teachers for an answer. I then reached down and pinched a little girl’s shirt, and asked her if she knew that her shirt was made from cotton. She said, “Uh uh , my mother bought this at Wal-Marts.”

Anyway, all went well, and I think the kids all will remember it forever, how cotton grows, and what it is used for.

wb

4th. of July Parades

Since we're getting close to summer and that means picnics, parades, fun stuff, etc., I thought I'd tell a bit about our "famous" Octavia 4th. of July parades.

These parades all kinda started as a flucky deal. We'd moved to Octavia in 1982, so the first July we were really here for in 1983, we were sitting around visiting with some neighbors, and just casually asked, "What do you do around here for the 4th. of July?"

The answer was, "Not much of anything." So Joan piped up and said, "Well, in Wisconsin, the 4th of July was a really big deal. We always had a big parade, our school band and neighboring school bands marched in it, lots of folks decorated floats and bicycles and got in it, and then there was a big picnic at the park in town, and a huge fireworks display at night."

Well, that got everyone thinking. "Why don't we put on a parade? That sounds like fun." So, the neighbor kids got on the phone to all their friends and told them we were having a parade on the 4th. of July so come and be in it. We were going to meet up at the old church parking lot in Octavia.

I got busy and made signs that read, "Parade - July 4th. - 2:00 PM in downtown Octavia." One of the old local fellers came by and said, "I've lived in these parts nigh on to 60 years. Where in the world is 'downtown' Octavia?" Little did he know that that would be immortalized on our T-shirts when we opened Babcock's Store.

So, by 1:00 PM on the 4th., folks started showing up in the church parking lot. There were three-wheelers decorated with red white and blue crepe paper, decorated bicycles, some folks on horseback, a dump truck with a couple ladies riding on the top of the hopper dressed up in fancy gowns. All along the parade route you'd here, "Dump 'em, dump 'em!" Of course, Shorty, the truck driver never did.

There was a float carrying a little girl all dressed up as Little Miss Octavia. Joan and I decorated up our tractor and pulled an old wagon we'd gotten from up at her Dad's farm in Wisconsin, and loaded it up with hay bales, and barrels, and misc. junk. She had her accordion, and a few other folks were on the float as well, and they were playing and singing along the route.

We started out from the church, went down the road toward Hwy. 144 past what used to be the old Octavia Store, then made a hard right onto 144, went up the hill, made another right back toward the church, and had so much fun that we did it again.

There were folks lining the parade route waving and smiling, and we even had a couple judges sitting in front of the old store to make it all official. Trophies were even given out for the best entries.

That evening, not wanting to call it quits with just a parade, my neighbor and I gathered up all the fireworks we could get a hold of from the little roadside stands that are all over the place this time of year, and we invited everyone over to our house to "watch the fireworks show" in our back yard. We made up iced tea and had some cookies and snacks on the shop porch, and some music going again, and at dark we shot off our fireworks. We were amazed at the number of people that came over. It was a lot of fun.


And so, the die was cast. For the next several years, the Octavia 4th. of July Parade was the place to be in Oklahoma.


By the following 4th. of July, we'd opened Babcock's Store, so the parade was staged over on the highway in the store parking lot. Of course, you know I never do anything halfway, and I was just itching to get back to promoting "something", and the parade was it.


I started inviting people to come and take part in the parade months before the 1984 parade time, and that morning folks started gathering to be in the parade, and we couldn't believe it. Nobody could believe it. The parking lot was full, across the road was full, back behind us was full.

And on top of it all, Joan and I were trying to keep the store open. It was mass chaos to the highest degree. I had to let people out of the store before more could come in the store. We finally just had to close the doors. We COULD NOT handle it.

We had a long flatbed trailer set up in front of the store for the musicians, and had real good music going all afternoon. Parade time was 4:00 PM. We went across the highway, down 144, looped around through Octavia, and back to the store. About 2 1/2 miles all together. Then we presented the trophies.

That night several of us set off fireworks across the highway in what is now the Octavia Baptist church yard. Back then it was a horse pasture. Fireworks was bigger and better, parade was definitely bigger and better. We were really rolling now.


Newspapers called it the biggest little parade in the country, and the media attention made it even bigger the next couple of years. I think the biggest parade had 497 participants on 100+ entries.

It was a lot of fun, but a LOT of work for a few of us. We finally had to call it quits. It got too big and there was too little help to handle everything.

But it was a great time while it lasted. More about the 4th. parade redo later.

wb

Fun at the Cotton Gin

Hi all,
This is a story I probably SHOULDN’T tell, but I live very dangerously, so here it is.

When I was a kid, there was an old cotton gin on the highway in Heavener - just down the street from out house. It was only in use for a few years in my lifetime, then it was closed down and boarded up. But, not so good that we kids couldn’t get into it and play.

It was a nesting place for pigeons and we just loved climbing up and robbing the nest. They always said that a pigeon laid two eggs, and, when they hatched, one was a male and one a female, and they mated for life. We used to swap the eggs, or put three eggs in a nest. You can guess what the results were.

BUT, one day, when a little neighbor girl and I we playing there, we found a package of two balloons. When we blew them up, they were about four feet long and about a foot in diameter. They were kind of clear in color and had a mouth about an inch and a half in diameter. We tied a string on them and were flying them behind us as we went home.

Then our mothers saw what we had.

Now, we thought they were pretty neat. NOT THEM! My friend's mother got out the Listerine and made us wash our mouths out with it, drink it; they scrubbed our tongues with it, washed our faces with bleach, and threatened us with our lives if we EVER went back up there. They never gave us a chance to explain they were NEW not USED. I’m SURE that would have made a difference.

Later,

wb

THE BIG RIDE 5-3-08

I gotta tell you about the Men's Trail Ride that we had this past Saturday. It was quite a ride!

I got up at 5:30 AM (and that was a real chore for me) to go horseback riding with a group of Christian Men over below Buffalo community. I got Big Guy loaded in the trailer with no problem at all - not always that easy with him.

Then headed over to Tommy Phillips' place to pick him up. I realized that due to the way I had redone my trailer, both horses wouldn’t fit in it. So,we unloaded Big Guy and reloaded him in Tommy's trailer with his horse and off we went.

It was about an hour drive through some real rugged terrain. We crossed several low water bridges that were not really too low. In fact, a couple of them looked kinda “iffy” to me, but we made it across them OK. Kinda glad we were not in MY truck and trailer.

There were about 16 of us on the first ride, mostly guys riding mules. Of all the hee-hawing they did. Our horses just looked at them as if to say “What's your problem ?”

We rode on some really nice trails, crossing several streams of water, up hills , down hills, and then we came to a concrete slab with about 8-10 inches of water running over it and about 100 feet wide. A couple of the horses would not cross it, so 4 or 5 of us went back across and coaxed them to come on with us. The rest of the group had gone on and was heading back to camp. We trailed them and, then, finally lost the trail in the woods. So, we dropped down on the edge of the creek to follow it back to camp.

GOT LOST! Big Time! And had to do some riding in some VERY rough areas to finally get back to camp. We even had to pull some fence posts up and hold the barbwire down on the ground while the horses crossed. We were about an hour longer than the other group getting back to camp for BREAKFAST, which turned out to be LUNCH.

Then, on the afternoon ride, some of the guys were too tired to go again, so the numbers dwindled down. One of the less experienced guys that had ridden a very gentle horse earlier decided to ride one of the mules. That turned out to be a mistake! While we were riding down a rather steep hill, he got off balance, started yelling, and lost the reins. The mule pulled a runaway and started bucking. It unloaded him right on the side of the mountain in a pile of rocks. This could have really been a disaster.

Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt too bad, but was very reluctant to get back on the mule. But, due to the fact we were several miles from camp, he had to. He was just trembling and shaking, but did stay with the mule and rode back. He was, however, being led by another rider (we call this ponying) all the way back to camp.

There were a couple spots on the trail that I just wouldn't ride down. I told the guys if they wanted to ride down, have at it, but I'd been too fortunate in my riding to take a chance on falling and breaking something. That would HURT!! and I DON'T like to hurt! And, being the oldest guy there, I thought that with age comes wisdom, and I was wise enough not to try to go down an EXTREMELY steep, rocky hill on my horse. Not good for him, and sure not good for me.

We stayed around camp for a bit and then decided on one more ride before the evening meal. The temp was delightful all day. Quite cool in the morning, we all wore jackets, and there were no flies to bother us. On the second ride, we finally came out of the jackets, and then the flies bombarded us. On the last ride, the wind changed to the north and it cooled off again. No more flies and back with the jackets. We had a wonderful time, and figured we rode about seven and a half hours.

Two of the guys who didn’t ride were the cooks, and did they put the ol' feed bag on for us. We spent about an hour and a half sharing Jesus with each other, and some good stories. I got home about 10 PM, well after dark.

All in all, it was a very good day with the guys.

"Happy trails to you!"

Burger King

Here's another bit of store trivia about the store that Bill just remembered. He gave me this info last week, but I'm just now getting around to adding it to his blog.

Enjoy.

One morning in the fall, I had just opened the gates and was outside in the front - kinda cleaning up and shifting some of my "junque" around. All of a sudden I heard tires squalling as they tried to stop. I looked up and saw a big Lincoln Town Car go by and then back up and come in the driveway.

A rather distinguished-looking gentleman got out and quickly said to me, "I want to meet the richest man or the dumbest in these parts. And I have a good reason for saying this. I just left Heaven er, ( I knew he was an outsider by the way he pronounced Heavener), and I haven't seen ONE car or person since I left up there. So for anyone to build a store out in this wilderness, he must be rich or really dumb!"

I was ready to go back inside, so I invited him to come on in for a cup of coffee. Before we got inside, a church van from Texas pulled in and about 10 people got out and started in the door.

I poured him a cup of coffee, and started doing "my thing" with the folks from Texas. By this time, another van pulled in with a few more folks. Then I heard a noise outside and knew it was a tour bus - probably with 35 - 50 folks on it.

I immediately hollered at Joan to come down and help me out. I never even had time to visit with the fellow at all, but as he left, he told me HE was the guy who decided where to build the Burger King restaurants. He also let me know that before they ever built one, they did extensive surveys and number counts to be sure it would be profitable.

He then said, "You must know something WE don't. However, you will be seeing me again soon as we are going to put in a Burger King right across the highway from you!"

Of course, they never did, and couldn't even if they wanted to because I had an option on the property across the highway, and later relinquished it to the church.

What I didn't tell him, was that it was fall foliage season, our busiest time of the year. Normally, we averaged somewhere around 200 - 300 visitors a day. During foliage season, it quadrupled.

Sure kept us hopping during those few months.

wb<<<>>>

Deer Meat & Coon Tails

And here's another good "Bert" story. Sorry, Bert. We just had some "memorable" experiences while you all were up here.

I remember the time the four of us were heading somewhere, and about half way to Smithville we saw the car in front of us hit a deer. Bert said, "Stop! Let's go back and get it." So, we turned around in the middle of the road, and checked it out.

It was definitely dead, but didn't look too banged up so we loaded it in the back of whatever we were driving (Joan's Blazer, I think) and headed for the house. We strung that deer up in the shop and commenced cleaning it.

Now, it didn't look bad on the outside, but the inside was ooooeeeeee!!!! If you have any idea what getting hit by a car does to the insides of a deer, you KNOW what we ran into when we cut him open!!!

I don't think I even stayed out there, but Bert was determined to get some deer meat out of it, so he kept at it a good share of the evening. I actually do believe that he got a roast and maybe some steaks out of the hind quarters, but that was about all that was salvageable.

I really think I could smell "deer insides" when we were eating it. Surely not, but it definitely left a lasting impression.

And, that brings to mind another story.

We were tooling down the highway one day, just Joan and me, and I saw a raccoon by the side of the road that looked pretty fresh-hit. So, being the cheapskate that I am, and knowing how much coonskin caps were worth, I decided to get that little feller and make me one.

I stopped the truck, and took a look at him, and decided that maybe I'd better just get the tail instead of the whole thing. We were on our way someplace, and I figured the whole carcass would get to stinking before we got home.

So, I grabbed him by the tail and had my knife ready to cut it off. I don't know if you are aware of it or not, but the first thing a coon (and probably any other critter) does when it gets hit, and is probably on it's way to it's eternal destination is to relieve himself. So, of course, I reached down, and got a BIG handful of "coon relief". UGH!!!

I wiped my hands on the grass and proceeded to cut the tail off, but since it had an abundant supply of "coon relief" on it as well, I decided to put it in the tool box in the back of the truck. That way it wouldn't stink up the inside.

BUT, I couldn't get the smell off my hand. I wiped and wiped, and got what water I could get my hands on and tried to wash, all for nothing. It stunk terrible!!! I ended up riding all the way to wherever we were going with my hand out the driver's window.

It took a lot of scrubbing with strong soap to get rid of that smell. The worst part about the whole coontail thing was, that by the time I got home, I forgot I'd put it in the tool box, so after quite a while of baking inside a metal box in the hot sun, it was REALLY ripe when I finally found it.

So, I've learned, if it's dead on the highway, leave it be. You REALLY don't want to mess with "road kill" 'cause road kill will MESS with you!!

WB

Bert & the Sweetheart Bits

I love to tell stories on other people, and of course, Bert just keeps coming to mind since he spent some real "quality" time with us helping out in the store.

One time I walked in the front door and Bert was showing a fellow a pair of spurs and a pair of bits that I had down there. Just as I came in I heard him say, "Oh, about $10.00 for all three pieces."

I nearly fell all over myself stopping that sale. I said, "Bert, those were MINE when I was a kid, and they are NOT for sale!"

It was a pair of the first aluminum bits ever made by Crockett. Mother and Daddy had gotten them for me when I was 13 years old for my birthday and they had a heart in them. I always called them my "sweetheart bits".

And the spurs were a pair I had modified in order to be able to ride my horse bareback. I didn't have a saddle back then so cut the sharp little points off the spurs and then just dug in and hung on for dear life. If I had of been 10 minutes later, my spurs and bits would have been gone FOREVER.

But today Joan is wearing the spurs and we still use the bits on either of our horses. Some things just cannot be replaced.

So, Bert, "Nice try. I appreciate you trying to make a sale, but glad I interrupted that one!"

WB

The Store Keepers

It's amazing what your mind will come up with when you are sitting around not feeling really great in the first place, and just letting it wander. Of course, I'm in that wonderful stage of my life where I can remember all that stuff that happened YEARS ago, but can't remember what I had for supper last night. Short term memory is a thing of the past.

Anyway, I was thinking about son, Bert, for some reason, and then got remembering about the first time he and his wife came up to help us in the store. It was back in the summer of 1986. I believe they'd been up for the 4th. of July parade that year, and saw how busy we were, so decided to come up and give us a hand.

We fixed up the upstairs part of the store for them to live in, and they got settled. Around the first part of August, I decided it was time to leave them on their own to see how they could handle things, so Joan and I took a camping trip to Colorado - mainly to get out of the HEAT that was overbearing that year.

So, I sat Bert down and gave him some info that I thought he might need while we were gone. It kinda went like this:

"Bert, if you have a problem with the plumbing, you call the plumber, Bert. When the garbage needs hauled off, you call the garbage man, Bert. When you need the gate opened or closed, you call the gate man, Bert. If you have a problem with the electric, you call the electrician, Bert."

All of a sudden he stopped me. "Wait, Dad. I need to get these numbers down."

I said, "Bert, didn't you understand what I said? All of the men I mentioned were named BERT."

That stopped him cold. HE was going to have to be the plumber, gate man, garbage man, electrician, etc. That's the way it is in a self-owned store. You get to do it ALL.

Another time, he and I had worked out butts off putting signs up north along the side of the highway. Each hole had to be nearly drilled in the hard, rocky ditches to put the post in. When we were finished, Joan and I left for Nashville to attend the Gospel Quartet Convention being held there.

The next morning we called the store to see how the kids were doing, and Bert was in a RAGE.

"Dad, ya know what someone did????"

I could never have guessed.

"Someone pulled up all the signs (about 20 of 'em), and put them by the front gate, poured oil on them and set them on fire."

Fortunately, they didn't burn. He was really in a tether. He couldn't find the holes they went in, so had to spend a day drilling new holes. THEN, we marked the edge of the highway with paint so we could find the holes IF someone did it again.

Then, one time Joan and I had been to Texas for something and we stopped at a yard sale. The people asked us where we were from in Oklahoma after seeing our license plate. We said up north of Broken Bow in the mountains.

They asked us if we had ever been to the old country store along the side of the road before you get to the Three Sticks monument. Not really knowing how to answer, I asked, "Why?"

"Well," he said, "we were up there yesterday, and stopped to see what all they had, and the nicest young couple that owned it made us feel so welcome. We're telling everyone about the store. They have all kinds of stuff and the best ice cream."

Then we didn't mind telling them that this was our store and they were our kids. It was so nice to hear such good remarks from a customer. Bert and wife did a great job when they were here.

I'm sure I have some more "Bert" stories, so I'll lean back, relax, and let the mind go. So, will post more memories later.

WB

Poke Salet

Been out picking poke today and I always think of two people when I do it. By the way, it's an annual affair for me. I try to get enough picked so I won't have to heat up my outside burner to boil it off three times. Joan won't let me cook it in the house, she says it "stinks" the place up too bad.

Course it has to be boiled THREE times with the water poured off each time. Guess it pours the poison out of it. On the third boil, I add the wild onions that I also pulled along the highway right-of-way. Guess folks think I picking up cans when I'm out there in the road ditches.

The TWO I always think of are: daughter, Elicia, and good friend, Bob Blake. This goes back to this story from about 1971 or 1972.

Bob was down visiting from New Jersey and Elicia was 6 or 7 years old and wanted to go pick poke. Now if you don't know what poke is, it's a weed that grows wild that is really poisonous if you eat it wrongfully prepared.

Anyway, we started off on the journey with knife and paper bag in hand. Bob was watching and really taking this in. Well, we brought it home, washed it, and gave it to Elicia's mother to prepare. We had it for supper, and I really thought THAT was all of it.

HOWEVER, several months later we were in Chicago at a meeting of Dodge Inc. Trophy Co. and Bob and I were there. Bob was asked about visiting the Dodge facility in Texas and what impressed him the most about it.

(Ya got to know Bob and his humor to really appreciate this, and he tried to talk with a southern drawl like Elicia did and still does.) Anyway, he said,"The urine salad Bill's wife prepared for us to EAT".

To say the least, I was totally shocked. Yep! I was shocked!

He said, "Bill and Elicia took me into the woods with a knife and paper sack, and she said, 'thar's won daidy', and Bill would go clip it off and put it in the bag. Then when the bag was full, we took it home and Elicia's mother boiled the piss out of it THREE times, and then we ate it." End of that story.

But every year when I go after poke salet, I always think of Bob and Elicia and the "urine salad".

The Visit

Joan told me she was watching Crook and Chase tonight on RFD-TV, and Garth Brooks was one of the guests. Well, that reminded me of an incident that happened early in our Babcock's Store career.

A fellow used to come through on his way to and from Carl Albert College in Poteau and he would stop and get him a malt or ice cream and we got to visiting. He told me that he was a coach, and had a daughter that lived in Oklahoma who was married to a guy who was trying to get started in country music.

He told me his name, but it didn't mean anything to me, so I didn't really remember it.

Well, after he'd been coming quite a lot, he stopped by one day with his family - wife, daughter, and son-in-law. They were on their way to Nashville where his son-in-law was going to try to get into country music in a big way. He told me he'd quit his job as coach and was going to be managing his son-in-law full time. Then he introduced his family to us, and BELIEVE IT OR NOT, his son-in-law was Garth Brooks. I don't remember if he had his big hat then yet or not. I actually think he just was wearing a baseball cap.

But, I'd never heard of Garth Brooks, so it was, like, OK. Good luck in Nashville. Joan barely remembers the visit as she was busy dishing up the malts and ice cream. I'm sure if he'd been "drop dead" gorgeous she'd remember, but-----

Anyway, now that I remember back on this little encounter, another thing comes to mind. We had a yellow legal pad at the front door that was our "guest book". We asked everyone who came in to sign the guest book. That was as much a part of our greeting as was "Y'all come in and make yourselves at home." Then we'd say, "Be sure and sign the guest book." So, we probably had Garth Brooks' signature in our little yellow pad guest book.

AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT????????? About 8 or 10 years after we first opened we had a BIG stack of these yellow pads, and one day I asked Joan, "What are we ever going to do with all these pads?" And since she couldn't come up with anything either, WE THREW THEM AWAY!!!! And Garth Brooks' signature right along with them. DO YOU BELIEVE IT??? Joan still hyperventilates when she thinks about it.

But, such was life in Babcock's Store. We won some and we lost some! Garth Brooks was a lost one.

You'll notice some additional pix on the right side. I'll have to tell you a story about some of them later on.

Till next time,
wb<<<>>>>

The Babcock's Store Song

I told you already that we had an old rinky-tink piano that Joan loved playing more than making malts and shakes, etc. Not quite as much as taking the money, but it was definitely in second place.

I mentioned that she would usually sing "The Babcock's Store Song", but I didn't really tell you what that was.

Joan is famous for her version of "I Like Stinky Cheese". When she was playing with the Julida Boys Polka Band up in Wisconsin, she introduced the band to that song, and it was the title of their first recorded album. The front cover had all the band members like little mice with their instruments sitting on a huge wheel of cheese. Little mouse, Joan, had a green bow in her hair so you could tell it was a "her".

Anyway, after we got the store going, I thought it would be really good to have a theme song for her to sing when customers came in. So-o-o-o-o-o-o, she got busy and wrote up words about the store to the tune of "Stinky Cheese". If you don't know how it goes, you can click this link to, not only hear the song, but see the re-worked versions of the song she came up with as things changed in the store.

So, here you are - The 1st. version of "The Babcock's Store Song."

Welcome folks to Babcock's Store, we have got gifts galore,
Soda fountain by the door, here at Babcock's Store.
Barbeque and ham and cheese, frito pie, if you please,
Ice cream, too, to tempt and tease, here at Babcock's Store.

CH:
We're so glad you stopped by, if just to say "Hi" to all us here,
But to make our day more sunny, just spend some money, and buy a souvenir.
Rest stop, potty, it's all here, at our "tuch" of yest'r-year,
Coffee, too, but there's no beer, here at Babcock's Store.

Jams and jellies for your bread, coonskin caps to fit your head,
Lots of guns that don't shoot lead, here at Babcock's Store.
We've got puzzles, cookbooks, too, arts and crafts handmade for you,
Tshirts, jewelry, it's a zoo, here at Babcock's Store.

CH:
We're so glad you stopped by, if just to say "Hi" to all us here,
But to make our day more sunny, just spend some money, and buy a souvenir.
Now you folks all come on back. Bring your friends, bring Uncle Jack.
Get some junk and take a sack home from Babcock's Store.

There you have it. After we quit selling food she revised the first verse a bit and took out the BBQ and ham & cheese part.

I guess she sang that song two or three times a day most days during the busy times. People always loved it.

I still do.
WB

The Newlyweds

I don't know why I thought about this, but I thought you might enjoy the story, too.

We had a lot of couples come through the store that were staying at the area cabins for their honeymoon, or second honeymoon, whatever. So, of course, they would drift on in, and you could always tell - they were holding hands, and hu-u-u-gging, and sneaking little kisses back in the teeshirt corner or in the south room. They didn't know we could see them in the south room. We had a window from the kitchen that looked like a mirror on the southroom side. Good way to keep an eye on things back there.

Anyway, to get back to the story. Whenever they would get back up to the front, I'd ask the new husband how things were going, and if he'd gotten himself a bull whip yet, and I'd get the one I had behind the counter out for him to see. Of course, he said "No". So I would give him some of my long-married advice and tell him, "Son, you need to get a bullwhip. That way you can keep her lined out and you won't have any trouble out of her."

Now, by this time the little woman was beginning to listen to this conversation and noticed that her husband was eating it all up. Her face would get a little frowny and she was beginning to look a little "mad".

"Yep," I'd tell him. "Right after we (I'd point at Joan over at the soda fountain) got married, I got me this bull whip, and shook it at her a couple times and told her, 'from now on this is how things are gonna be around here.' After all the whelps healed up on my back, I say, 'Yes, ma'am, no ma'am', and things are just fine."

Of course, after that the new bride was laughing, and all was well. It would have been great to have a camera around just to catch the expression on the wife's face. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Sorry, all you get is the thousand words. Don't have a picture.

Later, and for you newly marrieds, don't forget the whip!

WB

A Little More of the Story

A lot more pictures have been added to the slide show, so be sure to take a look before you leave.

Thought I'd post a bit more about the store.

One of the most enjoyable things in the old store was the Rinkytink piano that Joan played whenever she had a chance. Whenever a group showed up, we could usually talk her into playing "The Babcock's Store Song" and maybe a chorus or two of the Beer Barrel Polka. We found the old piano north of Mena. It had been used in a little church that had since closed, so we were fortunate enough to be able to buy it. It had a GREAT sound! Perfect for Babcock's Store.

We really enjoyed foliage season, because then the little church buses and CMAers would come by on their way to or from the Talimena Drive looking at the fall colors. They'd come in, get something to drink or an ice cream cone, and Joan would start playing the piano. What singing we had going on. Everyone else in the store would either stop and listen or join right in. It was a great big sing-a-long! Joan always said, "If all I had to do was play the piano and sing with the customers, I'd be a happy camper."

Back by the ladies' room we had a box labeled "WARNING: Baby Rattlers". Folks would happen upon that box, and you'd see them back up, look around, and then tippy-toe up to take a sneaky peek. Then they'd laugh, and then go get someone they were with to show them to. Of course, in the box were three BABY rattles. Pink ones at that.

The news media was always quite good to us. I always said, "if you do something DUMB and STUPID, the media will beat a path to your door to let everyone else know about it." We met many super writers and always tried to give them something good to write about. They did good by us, that's for sure.

So did the Oklahoma Department of Tourism. They came by on their "tour of the state" to check us out. Then they sent the people that stopped by the tourism centers over our way for a visit. Many times visitors told us how we were recommended by the folks at the tourism centers.

Every time a politician came through - county, state, or federal - they were treated to one of our "fantabulous" malts from the Olde Soda Fountain. George Nigh, former Governor of Oklahoma, even appointed me as a Territorial Marshall. Not that it really meant anything since Territorial Marshalls went out with statehood, but the certificate he sent looked real official on the wall by my station, and I actually think that if anyone was contemplating starting a ruckus, when they saw that sign on the wall, and the badge I always wore, they changed their minds. In all our 17 years, we only had a couple "incidents".

Well, I guess that's enough reminiscing for this post.

See ya next time.
wb

The Ferret

I thought of a good story I wanted to tell you about. We had a little box in the store that "housed" a ferret. Joan's Dad got it for us and we had quite a lot of fun showing "him" off.

How it all started was: One year, after we'd been to Wisconsin for a visit to Joan's Mom and Dad's place, Joan had called them to talk, and her Dad got on the phone. He told her that he'd caught a little animal, a baby one, that was orphaned or something like that, and that he knew that she was a sucker for little baby animals (that's a whole other story in itself), so he was going to keep it for her till we got back up there to take it home with us. He said he'd even built a little cage for it, and was feeding it. She told him that she really didn't need anymore animals to take care of, but he really thought she needed to have this little guy.

Well, several months went by, and frankly, we forgot all about the ferret. So, we made another trip to Wisconsin, probably around Christmas time, and first rattle out of the box, Joan's Dad said, "Well, now you can take that ferret home when you go." She couldn't believe that he actually still had the thing, but up from the basement he comes with this cute little cage with wire over the front, sleeping quarters in the back half all enclosed, a little bowl of water, and one of food in it. So, of course, we were GOING to take it back to Oklahoma with us.

Well, Joan said, "Can I see him?" and her Dad told her that he was kinda shy and stayed hidden back in the little house part most of the time. So, he gets him a little stick and gets down there and starts poking the stick in that little hole all the time whistling to it, and trying to coax it out. And THEN, he pulled a little knob on the back of the cage, and this furry thing came FLYING out of that house and leaped right on Joan's chest. SHE ABOUT DIED!!! Her Dad was laughing so hard, and Joan was shrieking, and it was HILARIOUS. That little piece of fur just about caused a train wreck in her shorts.

Anyway, after blessing her Dad out for pulling such a DIRTY, ROTTEN trick on his daughter, we all had a good laugh and began to see the wonderful possibilities for our little ferret at Babcock's Store. I guess her Dad had run out of friends and neighbors to show it to, so now it was our turn.

And, WE HAD A BALL WITH IT!! We did put in on an elastic band so that when it flew out it only went so far. I truly believe we'd have had a major accident if it had been loose. Some folks just don't handle a "furry little beast" flying out of a box and landing on them too well. We just left the little cage sitting on a counter with a sign that read, "Do not touch. Ferret." Of course, everyone wanted to see it.

When son Bert and his wife were living in Oklahoma and helping out in the store, you'd see Bert over there telling some unwary visitor about our little ferret. He'd get poking in that hole, and all at once you'd hear, "HERE 'E COMES!!" Then there would be screams and insane laughter, usually not from the same person. We truly had a great time with that ferret.

So, thanks, Les, for giving us something that was so much fun.
wb

A HISTORY LESSON

Here's a bit of the history of Babcock's Store for you.

Babcock's Store was built in the fall and winter of 1983 and opened for business in April, 1984. It was built, owned, and operated by W.B. "Bill" Babcock and his wife, Joan.

We had retired from the "rat race" in Dallas, Texas and moved to the small rural community of Octavia, Oklahoma in 1982. With nothing to do but fish and hunt, (not a bad thing, actually), however, I decided it was time to go back to work.

Using lumber that had formerly been the old Studebaker Wagon assembly plant in Wills Point, Texas which was originally built in 1882, Babcock's Store finally evolved into a 4500 sq. ft. two-story "tourist trap". The outside appearance was enough to stop the travelers along Hwy. 259, but it was inside the store where the magic happened.

Along with an ample amount of affle-gaffle from the owner (Bill, not Joan), the store boasted an "ol' time soda fountain" which served up malts, shakes, ice cream sodas, and sundaes like you used to get at the corner ice cream parlor. We didn't need gas pumps out front. Once our customers tasted a treat from the soda fountain, they rarely passed by without stopping.

Gifts and gadgets were the main features of Babcock's Store. Our motto was "if you don't have it, you can find it here." We prided ourselves on NOT handling anything a person actually needed. It could be in the antique cases that lined the main floor, hanging on one of the huge beams holding the whole thing up, hung from the ceiling, or hidden under a table. There was stuff EVERYWHERE! There were: coonskin caps, snap-its, OK souvenirs, whooie sticks, doodads, antiques, Smokey Mountain music tapes and CDs, "jams and jellies for your bread", and on and on and on.

The store hours posted on the gate out front were: "Open when the gate is. Closed, ditto." We were closed most major holidays anyway, as there were really more people stopping by than we could handle.

Well, enough history for this post. Will add more later when time permits, and my old brain recollects some more "fascinating" tales of Babcock's Store.

Old Store Remembered - Slideshow

Hi all,

Here are the pictures I promised to post. Hope you enjoy them, and will try to add more as time goes on.

2-10-08

Hello again,
I'm ba-a-a-a-ck. I've been getting a lot of you folks asking me about Babcock's Store. It's been over 7 years now since Joan and I decided to close up shop and join the ranks of the retired, but I guess some of you still remember the fun we used to have in the old store.

So, I'm posting a slide show of some pictures from the old place and will try to add more to it as I find them. Of course, I'll have to talk Joan into doing all this because as I said in my previous post, I'm not quite "puter litrit".

But I have found many other talents that have surfaced since retirement. I'm really good at using a hand-held horse-doo spreader, I mow a mean blade (or two or three million) of grass, I can stay in bed drinking my coffee and watching the morning news till 9:00AM or so with the best of them, and I've made a whole slew of friends that I stop and visit with regularly during the week.

Since I'm so-o-o-o much older and therefore wiser than them (I mean they're still working and I'm living the "easy" life, so I must be wiser), I'm sure they appreciate my visits and astute observations on life, and the meaning thereof.

So, keep an eye out for the pictures, and I'll try to dig up some memories to start adding as well.

"old" Bill

Jan 15 '08

Believe it or not, I'm going to have a blog. Actually, right this very minute, I have a blog that my wife, Joan, is writing for me. I'm sure I'll get the hang of this soon, but I may have to just tell her what I want to post, and let her do it. She's "computer literate" - I'm somewhat less than that.

BUT - I love my e-mails and have quite a circle of "e-mail buddies" that I share jokes, serious stuff, and not so serious stuff.

Perhaps, I'll get into this as well. For now, this is Joan writing for Bill (since he won't do it himself) bidding you farewell till next time.