Rains County Leader (Emory, Tex.), Vol. 109, No. 11, Ed. 1 Tuesday, August 20, 1996 Page: 14 of 14
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MILT FORBIS, around 1921.
If you are related to this per-
son, please contact Vickie
Forbis Shipp, Rt. 3, Box
273A, Mineola, TX 75773.
Photo courtesy of
Vickie Forbis Shipp
LOOKING BACK
RAINS COUNTY LEADER
Emory, Texas Tuesday, August 20, 1900 - Page 14
The Son I Drove from Home
continued from last week
“But, please let me stay, Papa.
I won’t never do anything else,’5
he promised/
‘rNo, I said leave!” I yelled,
pointing my finger to the door
again.
He left the room at once, and
started off down the road, when
Martha halted him to tell him
goodbye again. The other chil-
dren presently went out where
they were still talking and they
all talked together for a long time.
Finally he left, kissing' and
telling them all goodbye. I was
watching them from the window.
In the meantime, I was saying to
myself, “I’ll teach him. Let nim
stay awav until he gets real hum-
ble and that’ll teach him a lesson.
There is plenty of time yet. Let
him stay until next spring when I
need him most. There’s nothing
to do all this winter, so let him
make his board. He’ll be glad to
come back any time I give the
word."
These thoughts I boasted to
myself several times after he left,
but the days seemed to darken in
spite of my boasting. No work to
clo, and with the approach of the
gray winter days, it seemed
gloomier than any winter I had
ever seen. We sat around the fire
on the bad cold days for hours at
the time without breaking a
silence. When it was broken, only
a word or two was said, and then
another long silence.
“My, such gloomy days,” I
remarked to Martha one day, as
we stood looking out of the win-
dow watching the snow fall. “I
wish it was warm weather again.”
“Me too,” she added. We fell
into another silence, and for I
don’t know how long, we stood
gazing out Of the window.
Suddenly, the mailman
appeared and came to a halt at
our box. “I wonder what he could
be leaving?” I remarked.
‘TU go and see,” returned
Martha, and no sooner than said,
she was gliding swiftly through
the yard gate and out to the box.
She returned with a letter in her
hand. “It’s from Ben,” she
declared, as she came in at the
door. “He says he is going to
Rockville with Mr. Jones'folks
Saturday, to spend Christmas
with their uncle. He writes like
he is carried away with their trip.
Says he hopes we have a Merry
Christmas.’’
“It is just three more days until
Christmas. I had forgot all about
it being Christmas,” I spoke up.
“Why, Joe, forget a day like
Christmas. It’s the most impor-
tant and happiest of all times.”
“You can have it your way, but
I haven’t got time to think about
Christmas,” I replied.
Christmas morning dawned,
the clouds had disappeared and
the sun was smiling down upon
the earth for the first time in over
& week.
“What a beautiful day for
Christmas,” Flora exclaimed.
“Yes, God is merciful and has
granted us a beautiful day for
merry making,” replied her moth-
er.
I stood on the back porch over-
looking my field. I stood there
boasting to myself again of my
for my pi;
own. “Wl
FAYE HUDDLESTON FOR-
BIS, taken about 1940. If you
are related to this person,
lease contact Vickie Forbis
hipp, Rt. 3, Box 273A,
Mineola, TX 75773.
Photo courtesy of
Vickie Forbis Shipp
my
own. "What a success I have
made,” I thought.
There seemed to come a voice
as if out of the sky asking, “Yes,
but how did you get it? You
worked your children like slaves;
deprived them of an education;
deprived them of happiness, and
after all, you have not been a suc-
cess, but a failure.”
I dismissed the thoughts from
my mind and was pleased with
myself. Then, suddenly there was
a knock on the door. I answered
the door and a strange man was
standing there and said something
had happened to Ben, and we
must go with him. It came like a
blow from a cannon. I was dumb-
founded. I stood gazing at him
like a statue for several minutes.
Surely it wasn’t my Ben - the let-
ter - yes, I remembered now - it
said something about spending
Christmas Day in Rockville.
After all, probably it was my
Ben.
We hastily threw on some
clean clothes and left at once. Mr.
Nichols carried us as far as-
Yatesville, where we caught the
service car to Rockville some
fifty miles away.
All the way up there those
awful horrible words, "GET
our; “leave; “sleep with
THE DOGS”, came echoing back
to me. What a brute I was. I felt
like a wretch. And, oh, there was
poor Martha, with a sadder face
than ever. Words can never tell
the agony she was suffering.
When we arrived at the hospi-
tal we were directed up to tne
second floor and then down a
long narrow hallway to room
#38. As I opened the door I will
never forget that pitiful sight.
“My dear man, if you have
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anything to say to him, better say
it now, for he’s just about gone,
spoke the surgeon.
His head was all crushed in
and his right hand was complete-
ly gone, poor boy, as he lay there
with his head all wrapped up, but
just able to see his face.
As we entered the room, he
turned his eyes toward me and
smiled a sad little smile. I knelt
down by his side and asked him
if he knew me. Then he looked
up into my face so earnestly and
with a low weak voice he begged
so pitifully, “Please, Papa, take
me back home. I do want to live
at home so bad. Please don’t let
me die.”
Oh, such pitiful begging. I
couldn’t stand it no longer. Some-
thing inside me broke and I felt
every drop of blood in my heart
pouring out there in that Garden
of Gethsemane. Oh, if I could
have only granted those pitiful
pleas, but it was God’s will be
done, and not mine.
“Ben,” I spoke, “Will you for-
give me for being so cruel?”
“Yes sir, then you love me and
don’t hate me?” he whispered.
“Yes, Son.”
“Will you meet me in Heaven
then?” he whispered again.
“Yes Son, I’ll try.”
He smiled and closed his eyes.
That evening at 4 p.m., just
before the death angel came, he
opened his eyes and smiled a
sweet peaceful smile and waved
his hand goodbye, and then slow-
ly closed his eyes as he went
home to be with God.
We put him to rest the next day
in the little cemetery at
Prairieland, and I went home to
take up a new life; to turn over a
new leaf in life’s history, with the
one sole purpose to make my
family and others happy.
One year has passed since that
sad event. I have turned over a
new leaf in life’s history. We live
happy in our little home. There is
no more cruelty or harsh words.
Our work is never so pushing but
what we can always find time for
the pleasures of life.
I can never be kind enough to
them to make up for the cruel
days I brought over them. They
will never want for anything as
long as I can provide it. They are
kind and good to me. Too good.
They return my kindness in ten
thousand fold. If I can but only
live to make them happy the rest
of my days, I will have done no
more than my duty in the first
place, and in the second place, I
will have felt that I have filled a
great mission.
As last I have really learned to
live. I have found that happiness;
it is kindness.
The End
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GUY FORBIS, taken in the
‘50s. If you are related to this
person, please contact Vickie
Forbis Shipp, Rt. 3, Box
273A, Mineola, TX 75773.;
Photo courtesy of
Vickie Forbis Shipp
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Hill, Earl Clyde, Jr. Rains County Leader (Emory, Tex.), Vol. 109, No. 11, Ed. 1 Tuesday, August 20, 1996, newspaper, August 20, 1996; Emory, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth765760/m1/14/?q=music: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rains County Library.