Roots

2 March 2013

We were up and driving north before the sun peeked over the mountains this morning.  I could see my breath in the RV, as it was 26 degrees outside.  Brrr.  Kaleb stayed tucked in bed (as he has done most mornings) until we were well on our way and the RV had warmed up.  Kory and I drank our coffee as we traveled due north, straight up the western border of Arkansas to Missouri.  We were only six miles from the Oklahoma border, and we would have bopped over there for Kaleb’s sake so he could say he’s been to that state, but we were on a bit of a tight schedule, since we didn’t make it as far as I’d hoped yesterday.

As it was, it took six hours to get to Cassville, Missouri, my dad’s hometown.  Our only stop was to get gas, and since Panera Breads was right across the street, we treated ourselves to some yummy baked goods, too.  That was a nice break from the oatmeal or toast breakfasts we’ve been having every morning in the RV.

Just before noon we drove into Cassville and my dad’s cousin, Jim Bower, was waiting for us.  He led us out to his place to meet his wife, Mona, and their four dogs.  I’ve never met Jim before but we’ve talked on the phone as he has a love of genealogy and I’ve sent him some valuable information over the years.  He were both tickled we finally met and he couldn’t have been kinder.

Jim and Mona are both collectors.  Mona collects mostly dolls of all kinds and her rec room is filled with display cases of all kinds of treasures.  Jim built himself a little cottage (below) that houses his collection of over 2,000 pieces of carnival glass.  The colors and the way he has them displayed are incredible.  Since Jim and Mona are both in their 70s and were elementary school sweethearts, they’ve had a lifetime of collecting.  It’s was something to behold.  They’ve never had kids so this is how much of their energy and money over the years has been spent.  Incredible.

I’ve given Jim some pretty amazing family history info over the years on his great grandfather being a vigilante and all, so since then he’s been hot on the trail of whatever else he could find out about Jasper McKinney.  Jim’s grandmother, Jasper’s only child, was raised an orphan because her mother died in childbirth and Jasper was soon found dead in the White River (top photo) with his hands tied behind his back.  There was an inquest into his death and they found he died of “unknown trauma to the neck,” so it was obvious he was hung.  He was only 27, but he was the leader of the “Sons of Honor,” a vigilante group that formed in the lawless days after the Civil War.  So Jim took me to Swan, the place where his grandmother was born (and great grandmother died) and to the old cemetery (below) there where he’s pretty sure Jasper’s wife is buried (my great great grandmother).  The graves are so old many have broken off, or just a rock was placed on them, but it makes sense that’s where she would be.  Where Jasper is, is a mystery, but Jim took me to all the places mentioned in documents that mention him.  It was one thrill after another for me to visualize these places I’ve read about.  For Kaleb, he couldn’t have been more bored, but he was a good sport anyway.

Our day with Jim and Mona started out having lunch at the gorgeous new lodge at Roaring River, my dad’s favorite fishing spot (fishing photo above), and we ended up going by Branson, Missouri on our way back and having dinner there.  Kory and I were there 20 years ago and it’s mind boggling how much that town has grown and changed in that time. 

It was late, but on the way back to Jim’s place, we stopped by his and my dad’s cousin’s son’s house – Jack - who is about my age.  I met them when we were here before, but now that he’s older it’s shocking to me how much he looks like my dad’s brother.  It was hard for me to not think of him as the same person, they were so similar in looks.  Incredible.

Jack Barber is a farmer, raising cattle, and his son has just become a chicken farmer.  We passed nothing but chicken farm after chicken farm on our six hour drive this morning, and we got to see and hear, first hand, what it means to farm chickens for mass production (below).  Jack’s son owns four chicken houses, which are highly automated with food dispensing, light control and air and heat circulation.  Each house holds 25,000 chickens and he gets them the day they hatch, some with the egg still stuck to their back.  They are given a shot while still in the shell, so the first day he looses a lot of chickens because if the needle pierces their neck nerve, their heads hang off to the side, so he has to kill them right away.  What’s in the shot, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably something to do with rapid growth. 

The contract he has with the “company” (think Tyson) says that he provides the housing and they provide the chickens and their feed, so he doesn’t even know what’s in the food they eat, but they double in size each week.  After 32 days they get “processed” and then he gets a new batch.  He ends up with six cents a pound for all his work but he has a huge loan to the bank for the housing.  The chickens never see daylight and the house is so long it’s hard to see the end of it.  So much for the life of a chicken.  I think it made an impact on Kaleb as it confirmed many things we’ve seen on documentaries about how large corporations control the food chain in America and the way they are treated is why many people go vegan.  This guy’s just trying to make a living, so he “bought himself a job” and he has to do what he’s told to do in his contract, but it feels like he’s just the pawn in it all with everything to lose if something goes wrong, and very little to gain.  This is why those corporations pick economically depressed areas for those types of farms.

Anyhoo, we had a wonderful visit today with all these family members and there’s more to meet up with tomorrow when we head to Joplin.  The Ozarks really are beautiful (above), but I wouldn’t call them “mountains” – it’s more like rolling hills, but they aren’t heavily populated so it’s easy to see how people that live here have such strong personalities and why my Ozark roots still run deep.  I do feel most at home in this place where hilltops are called “Knobs” and valleys are called “Hollars.”