Baptism in West Texas

Family Stories: Baptism in West Texas


My father is almost 83 years old and somedays he finds it tough to remember what was for breakfast (although it is usually eggs, sausage and fried potatoes!). When it comes to remembering his days on the family farm, his time in the U.S. Navy in World War II or the history of his family there is no lack of memory. The stories are colorful and many times hilarious. They are always quite vivid. He is a master story teller and I never tire of hearing them. When one comes along I haven't heard I'm in awe that there is yet a new one for him to tell.





In the 1950s after my parents were married they made a trip to west Texas (near Muleshoe) and stopped by to say hello to my father's grandfather. A good looking man, Sherman Tucker must be my father's direct link to his story telling wit. Sitting in a ladderback chair on the front porch of the dusty farmhouse Grandpa Tucker rocked it back and forth, scratching his head thick with white hair. It was hot and dusty. The rains were few and far between that year. Great, great grandpa Tucker looked at my father and said, "it's so dry out here the Baptists have started sprinkling and the Methodists are using a damp wash rag." He refered to the many methods of baptism and painted a realistic picture of the weather in west Texas.



I regret that I haven't collected all these stories my father as locked in his head. It is an ambitious goal to try and get those tidbits of life down on paper.