From the heart of Joe Este A letter to my grandfather. Dear Pappa Webb I have been meaning to write you for a long time. Your little caboose, your youngest grandchild has done pretty well in life. I accepted Jesus at a young age but It has taken my entire life to get to the point where I am now in my relationship with Jesus. During my senior year of High School I enlisted in the 527th Engineer Battalion, Headquarters Company, Combat Heaving. I became a 81B drafting specialist. I attended Army Basic Training in the summer of 1981 and performed my drafting training the following summer. I worked at Fabsteel after graduation and then I worked at Frymaster until I went to school. I started La Tech in 1985 and would meet Terri my future wife and future mother of our son Alex your great grandson. While at Tech I would lose my roommate Peter Cusanno and his flight instructor Irene Gilderman in an a aircraft accident. I would also lose a friend of my roommate who was stabbed to death. Please tell Pete and Irene that Im doing good. After two years of college I enlisted in the Air Force and was stationed at Barksdale AFB, La. I deployed to R.A.F. Fairford, England for Desert Storm. It was here while watching from a tower as our bombers took off that I realized that before they returned lives would have been lost due to my actions. I have never lost that feeling of immense responsibility I had while performing my military duty. As I value life I also realize that we must some sometimes take lives to preserve lives. It was and always had been a humbling experience. After I returned we welcomed Alex into our lives on December 22, 1991. I would lose a close friend to a drunk driver. He name is Randy Kerry. His death hit me hard as he had beat cancer as a teenager only to be killed by a drunk driver. Please tell Randy hi and if the driver who hit him is with you please tell him hi also and I have forgiven him for taking Randy from us. After Randys death I would be stationed at Osan AB, Republic of Korea and then we went to Dyess AFB, Texas. After three years at Dyess we went to Lake Charles as a recruiter. My final stop on my military journey had me back Barksdale where I retired as a E-7 Master Sergeant with 27 years and 4 months of service. I would get an associate degree while in the Air Force and another associate degree after I retired. I would go on to get a bachelor’s degree from La Tech which concluded a journey which had begun in 1985. I am currently enjoying my retirement and we have found a nice church home. Alex is a senior at Tech and should graduate in March. He wants to coach and teach math. Well that brings up to today and the real reason I am writing you. I have many questions and many thoughts I would like to share. I was only 12 when you passed away and I didnt get the normal time a grandson gets to spend with his grandfather. I would like to ask you some questions as well as share some of my thoughts. I enjoy building things like sheds and barns. I know I got this from you as you built both of your houses by hand. The first burned down and you werent phased. You would build another and raise your kids. Your house still stands, just as solid as when you built it. It was passed to Aunt Nig as you had requested. Upon her passing it was passed onto Roy Webb your great grandson who lives in still to this day. He and Donna raised your two great great granddaughters in it as well as raising your great great great grandchildren. Speaking of Aunt Nig, I was curious as to why so many of my aunts and uncle had nick names? Aunt Sis, Aunt Nig, Aunt Dumpy and uncle Son. Why did they have extra names and you named my mother Nettie Webb, no middle name. I guess by the time she came along you had run out of names or maybe you were just tired. It really didn’t matter that much to me because I simply just called her mom. I would have loved to hear stories about my family, such as the time when my dad nailed my moms britches to the roof when it was getting redone. I just found out from Gene that you made him take you back to Zwolle so you could kiss my grandmother goodnight. You refused to go to bed until he complied, which he did. However in your haste and lack of proper lighting you found who you thought was my grandmother on a gurney in the hallway about where you had last seen her. You wrapped your armed around this person and began to give her a goodnight guess. Only problem was she wasnt your wife or my grandmother. The women hollered, you hollered and began blessing out Dr. Murdock. Where is he? Where is Dr. Murdock, I kill him. Dr. Murdock the same doctor who delivered me was awoken from a sound sleep. He found you in the hallway and all he could do was give you shot and admit you also. I guess he had pretty good survivor skills. As you know I was born on august 16, 1963. My cousin Gene and Lena Faye were bringing my mom back to Tinker AFB, Oklahoma when I decided to come a month early. They turned the car around and headed to the hospital in Zwolle. They said no sooner than they had parked they heard me making my introduction to the world. The caboose and the last of your grandchildren had been born. While working at Lowes a few weeks ago I met a lady, her daughter and granddaughter. She mentioned that they were from Zwolle and I told her I was born in Zwolle. She asked when and I told her. She said she worked for Dr. Murdock and would have been present at my birth. I thanked her for helping me into this world. Please tell Dr. Murdock hi and thank him for bring delivering me safely. Also thank him for the care he showed for my mom and me. I would have enjoyed spending time with you maybe fishing, hunting or just discussing the events in our lives. I have to admit that the hunting part would have given me trouble as I inherited my mother’s tenderness and love for animals. However I know that without hunting, fishing and farming you would not have made through the rough times. I would go on to spend many a day with my dad and relatives hunting. I really enjoyed those days. I never killed a deer, but truth be known I never wanted to. Just time spent with them was enough. I know my mom suffered from Rheumatic Fever and you made her work the fields while she was sick. You were probably considered to be a cruel father at the time but providence and wisdom would prove your decision to be the correct one. I know doctors said that if my mom had laid up in bed, she would have surely died. If she had died I wouldnt be here and neither would Alex. For that hard decision you made many years ago I thank you. I know my father your son in law gave you fits. Like the time when despite the warnings he lit a cherry bomb under your good wash bowl. As I understand it split it in half. You can take that up with him personally. I would also like to hear about the time my father buzzed the house in an air plane. All of your children except Media have joined you in heaven. Also a lot of your grandchildren have also joined you. Im sure you welcomed them with open arms. It looks like Media will give you a run for your money as she just turned 94 and is closing in on your age. I would also like to ask you about my cousin Titus Webb who was killed at the push out from Remagen bridge during World War II. He was a tank driver and was killed in action. You buried him in the cemetery that you had donated land for. Helen Webb would often talk about the sounds of the bugler and the guns that echoed through the woods to your house. Please tell Titus thanks for giving the ultimate sacrifice for our nation. Tell William Henry Webb hello and also thank him for giving the ultimate sacrifice for our nation. He is your son in law and first wife of Meade. He was killed shortly after D-Day and buried in the American Cemetery in Loraine, France. We dont know the exact circumstances of his death but we know he is with you. Also tell Helen and Buddy thanks for allowing me to participate in the building of their house. Also thank them for introducing me to onion rings (about the only way Ill eat onions) and boiled shrimp. Thank Helen for the many servings of perfectly cooked rice and black eyed peas. Thank Helen for passing on her loves of crafts to me. As a history major and follower of political events I would love to discuss with you your involvements in politics. My mother told about how on election days you would leave the house very early and not return until well after nightfall. All she remembered was that you would bring home rolls of money afterwards. I assume that you got paid to take voters to the polls. It would fall right in line with the Louisiana politics of the time. Plus the money went a long way in helping feed the family. I was also told about the time when as a young man you were holding either a rifle or shotgun with your palm over the muzzle end and discharged and left a hole in your hand. Since you were too far away from the nearest hospital, they simply dunked you hand in kerosene and wrapped it up. It sure doesnt sound like it slowed you down any. I have a picture of you standing on the side of the school bus you drove along with of the children. Modern school bus drivers would really enjoy what you used as a school bus back then. When my fathers father was shot and killed when he was 5 you were the person noted as contacted on the death certificate. I would love to know the circumstances of his death. Since he was not my fathers biological father. I would love to ask you who was my father’s real father was. I have some hunches but nothing concrete. Within a few months of my birth my father lost his sister, his mother and his mother in law. How did you manage and cope in such a dark time in your life? At the entrance to the road to your house stood a gate for many years. It was hand built and simply had the name Webb cut by blow torch in the plate in the middle of the gate. I knew as a kid that when I saw that gate I was going to see my Pappa. That old gate now occupies a less regal place on your homestead in the woods, but none the less it beckons us back to those days when it welcomed us all home. The things I do remember are our trips to see you. We would always stop at Kickapoo and get your favorite snuff. I remember you sitting in your chair close to the fireplace with your snuff can by your feet. Just between me and you I thought the snuff was pretty nasty, but I also knew you enjoyed it. I remember the Christmass when uncle Bill would dress up as Santa and bring us kids presents in the big bedroom. I remember the old smoke house, long since abandoned when I came along. I would have loved for you to teach me how to smoke meats. That would have made many memories. I remember your yard, not a blade of grass or weed. If any grass or weed sprouted it would surely be plucked or hoed. Only the white sand of Sabine parish. That too is but a far off memory. Plush green grass now grows where once only sand reigned supreme. They call it progress I guess, I kind of liked the sand. I also remember the wells you had, they too are but a faded memory as they have long been filled in. Roy did get a good laugh out the well in your yard once during a family reunion. It seems a cat was being a pest and getting in between peoples feet and bothering them. Roy said “I’ll take care of that cat!” He proceeded to pick up the cat bit the neck, and open the wood cover to that old well and threw the cat in and close the lid. Everybody was in stunned disbelief, did he really just throw a cat down the well? Well after a few minutes here comes the same cat crawling out from the well. It seems Roy got your sense of humor, he had filled in the well a few months back and knew the cat was fine. You would have busted a gut. I remember the many family reunions at your house. Table after table of food and drinks. I remember uncle Son brought the cold drinks and iced them in large wash tubs. I still think those were the best tasting cold drinks anyone could have. I know for many even the thought of a cold drink was pleasure in its self as many had come through the depression with little. Alas those are but memories also. We just recently attended a Webb Jackson reunion. Where there were once many there were but nine. The reason I suppose is time and distance. We have all moved on, to different parts of the country, different parts of our lives. Many have joined you and many are advanced in age. You have but one child left with us. Meade is doing well and is loved by all around her. I am sure she is home sick for you and her brothers and sisters. While working at Lowes in the plumbing department awhile back I had an older gentleman ask where our face bowls were. Face bowl? What is a face bowl? He said sink, then I got it. My memory flashed back to your back porch and there it was, a face bowl. A unassuming tin bowl with water and a bar of soap along with a towel. I remember being called to dinner and told to wash my hands on the back porch. We were city folk and had running water in Shreveport. You had running water by then also but still used the face bowl. You also had by then modern plumbing with all the amenities. But you still had an outhouse and I guess I am proud to say that yes I have had the pleasure of using one. The face bowl and out house made you really appreciate the mundane things that we now take for granted such as modern plumbing. I remember when you died and they had your funeral. Midway Baptist Church had recently built a new sanctuary and discontinued the use of the old church building. You requested that your funeral be conducted in the old church which it was. I remember the walls, the wooden pews and the tally board that showed the Sunday attendance. I remember riding with my mom and dad in the funeral procession from the church to the cemetery. Long slow winding red dirt road. The dirt had turned to a fine dust like baby powder. It covered everything, it would cling to the back of cars and trucks until it could no longer bare its own weight. It would then cascade off in a sheet like an avalanche of snow and then the process would begin anew. That old church building still stands today, it was moved shortly after your funeral to a chicken house complex down the road. It still stands in defiance of time like its paying homage to those days long gone. And that land you donated for a cemetery? It’s still there, only it’s a lot fuller. My mom and dad are there with you along with countless other relatives and friends. Well I’d better be getting on as the morning approaches. Terri will be getting up soon and getting ready for work. She works at a daycare and teaches young children. She has a heart for children and enjoys teaching them. They are our future as we too will grow old and eventually join you. As soon as my work is done here on earth I’ll join you. Please hug my mom and dad and tell them all hi and I love them. Thanks for listening to your little caboose. Love Your Grandson Joe
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 10:03:27 +0000
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