Our Old Country Church.......

The Original Handwritten Note I Stuffed in the Church Door in 2003

In October of 2003, Cindy and I moved to Plano, Texas from Atlanta, Georgia.  On weekends we would explore our new state.   Since I enjoy genealogy, I knew that my great grandfather, William Ellison, had donated land for a church in the now defunct town of Bazette, Texas (near present day Corsicana); and I knew that this old country church was still in existence.  We set out to find it.

Lydia's Letter to Cindy and Me

Lydia's Christmas Card to Cindy and Me

After doing some research, we were finally able to find the church---about as far out in the country as we could imagine.  It was a brick structure just off a dirt road. 

It was pretty thrilling to see that a historical marker had been placed in front of the church by the state, and to see that my great grandfather's name was mentioned on the marker.  It was also nice to see that the churchyard behind the church held the remains of my great grandfather and his family, along with many other graves.

My Daughters, Diane and Debbie, Next to the Historical Marker in Front of the Baptist Church at Bazette, Texas.  Picture Taken C 2005.

It was a neat little church.  After we had looked around, Cindy said I should leave a note in the door of the church, informing the membership that I, great grandson of the founder, had stopped by.  It turned out to have been a great idea.

After returning home that evening, I received a call from a lady named Lydia.  She was a life-long member of the church, and she and her husband, Bill, were movers and shakers in their community.  Cindy and I made plans to visit there.

That vist led to several visits over the years that we lived in Texas.  The little Baptist church had a small congregation.  They were a very friendly group, and we really enjoyed worshipping with them and getting to know them.

Cindy and I stayed in touch with Bill and Lydia over the years.  When we moved to Tennessee last May, we wrote them to let them know.  Yesterday, in the mail, came a wonderful missive from Lydia.  Lo and behold---enclosed with her letter was a Christmas card and the original handwritten note I had crammed in the door of the church back in December of 2003.  I had to write about this.  Dang---I'm gettin' a little teary-eyed as I think about it. 

The note reads as follows:

12-12-03

1:30 PM

My name is Clint Ellison.  My great grandfather was William Ellison, who donated the land for this church in 1881.

I have recently moved to Dallas from Atlanta, Ga. and would like to attend (visit) church here one Sunday.

Could someone please call me at my home phone # to let me know when services are held?  I would appreciate it very much.

Thank you!

Clint Ellison
214-473-9633

Differences Between Texas and Tennessee

Texwisgirl at http://run-a-roundranch.blogspot.com/ asked me the other day what I have seen in the way of differences between Texas and Tennessee.  I thought that was a good question, and I have given it some thought the past few days.

Here is a partial list of observations:

---Texas is 90% flat.  Tennessee is 90% hilly. 

---Texas roads are generally straight.  On some of them you can just drive and drive all day long and seldom even move the steering wheel.  Tennessee roads are winding and hilly and DANGEROUS.  Many roads here in east Tennessee don't even have shoulders.  If you are not payin' attention---or if you are multi-tasking---you can go off the road and die just like that.  This is particularly troubling because we've got these good ole boys who drink to excess who like to get out in their pick-up trucks and drive recklessly.  I try to stay off the roads after 5:00 PM if possible.

---Food costs more here in Tennessee.  I have been shocked at some of the prices.  Shrimp (which we love) cost two and a half times more here in Tennessee.  I couldn't believe it.

We also love sushi.  In Texas, all the supermarkets had a sushi counter.  Here in Tennessee, we finally found one market that offers sushi.

---In north Texas, it seems all the churches were mega-churches, with thousands of members each.  Here in Tennessee, it seems there is a small church on every corner. 

---In north Texas, zoning laws are enforced.  In Tennessee, if there are zoning laws, they are not enforced.  You see expensive homes next to single-wide trailers next to body shops next to apartments next to gas stations next to car dealerships. 

---Neither Texas nor Tennessee have state income taxes, but the property taxes in Texas were FOUR TIMES what they are in Tennessee. 

---My auto insurance and homeowner's insurance are Half what they were in Texas.

---If you join a workout facility in Texas, it'll cost you a minimum of $25 a month (usually more), a start-up fee of at least $75, and an agreement that has a penalty if you try to terminate it.  Most Spas in Texas keep regular office hours---you can only work out when they are open.

I joined one here in Knoxville three weeks ago that is $15 a month, no contract, and allows me towork out anytime, 24/7.  Each member has a card key that is programmed with his/her code.  Wanna work out at 11:00 PM?  No problem.  3:00 AM? No problem.

---In Texas, a big orange "T" stands for the University of Texas.  In Tennessee, that orange T stands for the University of Tennessee.  "This is Big Orange Country!!!" the locals loudly proclaim.

---Here in east Tennessee, the accents are slightly country and slightly hillbilly and slightly twangy.  In Texas, the accents were a drawl.

---There are a whole lot more trees  in Tennessee than in Texas.

These are a few of the things I have noticed in my short time here so far.

The Best Teacher On Earth....



Fifth Grade, 1955, Golfcrest Elementary School, Houston Texas.  Mrs Shoemake, Our Teacher, Is On The Right.  I Am Standing Next To Her, Second Row From The Bottom

 The year was 1955. I was in the fifth grade at Golfcrest Elementary School in Houston, Texas and I was a problem.  I was constantly having disciplinary problems at school.  I actually got an "F" in conduct once---in the third grade.  Usually, I got a "D", while all the other kids got "A"s and "B"s. 

My parents were furious with me.  My other grades were very poor, also.  My dad called me lazy and stupid.  Looking back, I don't blame him.  He was beyond frustrated and didn't know what to do to get me straightened out.

I hated school.  Every day at school was a day of constant daydreaming and tuning out the teacher.  I was a terrible student.

When I started the 1954/1955 school year, however, things would be different.  They would be very different.  The reason they would be different is because I happened to be entering the class of Mrs. Dorothy "Dot" Shoemake. 

Mrs. Shoemake was a no-nonsense genius of a teacher.  It took her about two months of my shenanigans to completely figure me out and begin to execute a plan of action.  This had never happened before.  Not at school, and not at home.  I was in for the shock of my young life.

In my class picture (above) Mrs. Shoemake is standing on the right.  I am on the second row from the bottom, standing right next to her.  Note in the picture that five of my male classmates are wearing a patrol belt, signifying a high level of academic achievement and responsibility.

I wanted to be a patrol, too.  There was nothing I wanted more than to wear that belt---that emblem of achievement.  But, of course, that was out of the question---my grades were horrible and I was pretty much uncontrollable.

One day Mrs. Shoemake overheard me being mean to one of my classmates who was wearing a patrol belt.  The next day in class, she struck with the slyness of a fox, the understanding of Freud and the wisdom of Solomon.

In front of the class, she said to me, "Clinton, why did you say those mean things to Tommy yesterday?"

I was embarrassed.  I looked down and said in a low voice, "I don't know."

The great lady then continued, in front of my classmates.  "I'll tell you why you did that, Clinton, since you are unwilling to tell us yourself."

After a moment of silence, she applied the coup-de-grace:  "You said those mean things to Tommy because you are jealous of him.  He has earned the right to be a patrol, and you have not.  But you really want to be a patrol, don't you, Clinton?---and that is why you were rude and mean to Tommy.  Please see me after class, Clinton."

After class, I approached Mrs. Shoemake, firm in the knowledge that I was yet again in trouble, that I would be required to take a note home to my mother which would inform her that her son had once again acted badly at school.

But that did not happen.  She asked me if she had been right about why I had said rude things to my classmate.  I did what any 10 year old American boy would do when he has been caught red handed by a superior intellect:  I cried.

Mrs. Shoemake had me in the palm of her hand.  That had never happened to me before.  She had me figured out and I knew it. 

She told me that I could be a patrol, too.  After all, she said that she was the person who appointed patrols for the school.  And, if I wanted to be a patrol, I would need to start making good grades and start being courteous and well behaved.  This little conversation got me to thinking.  One thing was for certain---I wasn't going to outsmart Mrs Shoemake.

I started to study.  My mom helped me with my homework.  My grades started going up!  I tried to turn my behavior around at school. 

This is a painting of me, age 10, in my beloved patrol  belt.  This painting was done from an old photograph.  The artist is my wife, Cindy.  Painting done in pastel and pastel pencil.

One day, Mrs. Shoemake asked me if I still wanted to be a patrol.  My heart leapt!  She said I had earned the right to wear the patrol belt.  She said she was proud of me.  I swear, I think I even slept in that white patrol belt for the rest of my 5th grade school year.

I don't know what ever happened to the legendary Mrs. Shoemake.  I pray she had a long and happy life.  But I do know that I will never forget her and her impact on my life.

Remember the Alamo!

Cindy painted this in watercolor.  It hangs in our den.

When we moved to Texas seven years ago, we immediately realized that we needed artwork in our home that reflects living in the Lone Star State.  For my Christmas present six years ago, Cindy presented me with her painting of the Alamo.  Her painting is based on a picture of the old mission taken circa 1920. 

The Alamo as it appears today in San Antonio

To refresh your memories (especially my friends from countries outside the United States), the Alamo was/is an old Spanish mission located in San Antonio, Texas.  In 1835, Texas began a quest for independence from Mexico, which ruled Texas.  The battle for independence became a very bloody affair when General Santa Ana led his army of several thousand men into Texas.

One of the most important battles was the battle at the Alamo, where approximately 180 Texans and their supporters entrenched themselves against the much larger force of the Mexicans.  On March 6, the Mexican army conquered the little mission fortress and killed all of the defenders.

The monument at San Jacinto commemorates Texas' independence.  It rises higher than the Washington monument

This action enraged all of Texas, and on April 21, 1836, against overwhelming odds, the Texas militia, led by Sam Houston, caught up with the Mexican army and annihilated it at San Jacinto, just east of present day Houston, Texas.  That battle led to Texas' independence.

The Alamo has ever since been preserved as a holy shrine.

The above painting hangs in our den.  Cindy says it is done in watercolor using dry brush technique on hard surface watercolor board.  Of course, it is very special to me.  There is one whimsical element to the painting---on the right side, in black robe, stands the spectral figure of a mysterious woman.  That woman is Madam Candelaria, rumored to be the only Texas survivor of the battle.


My wife, Cindy, is an accomplished artist, and painted the above picture of the Alamo in watercolor

 You may view more of Cindy's artwork on her Facebook page---"Cindy Ellison Art".

The Vast Texas Plains....

Here in north Texas, we have an abundance of wildlife. Our neighborhood teems with all manner of native critters. We even see bobcats a couple of times a year, along with coyotes, rabbits (we counted 19 on one of our morning walks), squirrels, racoons, and birds of every description.

I wrote the following poem as a tribute to the native coyotes, longhorn steers and, of course, our cowboys, who maintain order on the wild and wooly plains. Read the poem slowly, out loud. I had particular fun with the way the words roll and rhyme. I hope you like it.

The Vast Texas Plains

On the vast Texas plains the coyote reigns

And the longhorns bellow and bawl.

As the wind's wild refrains howl a hymn 'cross the plains,

On the vast Texas plains the coyote reigns,

And the cowboy maintains with his brawn and his brains

A semblance of order for all.

On the vast Texas plains the coyote reigns,

And the longhorns bellow and bawl.

(C) 2006 Clint Ellison