Cousinette Epistles #7: Living Memory: Lest We Forget

Dear Cousinette's:

Last week I spent the day with Michael Hammons, the grandson of my sister.  Michael was a wee lad when we moved to New Hampshire 25 years ago this fall, so I welcomed the opportunity to spend time with him.  We discovered some interesting things.  We grew up in the same house and actually had the same bedroom.  We walked down the same alley to school, leaving home a few minutes before the bell and never arriving late.  (It is an art!)  We even both had cranky mothers.  (Just kidding Sheri :) )

The thing about Michael that struck me is his resemblance to his Grandfather, Steve Cobb.  Michael and I discussed the fact that I am one of the only living links to his grandfather Steve.  So I thought I would share some things about him.  Steve was my friend.  I was probably 12 or so when Sis and Steve got married.  One of the great things about Steve was that he never treated me like a kid.  We did stuff together.  (I see that character quality in Cousin Vicki.  She loves kids and is always just one of them.)

He was a very handsome man with blue eyes.  He was very funny and loved to irritate my mother.  Evidently it is genetic and entertaining and came to be a family tradition.  His favorite thing in all the world was to fish.  I remember one day he took me to the Norman State Hospital property and went fishing.  We were trespassing and got evicted.  He told me later that if he had not had his white work uniform he would not have tried it.  Getting evicted from anywhere was high adventure for a kid from Fort Cobb.  He would drink a beer when he fished, also genetic I think, which was troubling for the son of Foy Wheat, but we were fishing...I realized years later that it is required.

Steve and Nelda got a service station in Lindsay.  When I would visit, he would let me pump gas and wash windshields.  This was fun and interesting.  (I didn't figure out the free labor part of it.)  I don't remember ever seeing him angry, although I am sure he was at times. He was a hard worker.   He always seemed happy to me.

When they lived in Norman we watched Superbowl I together.  I thought the Chiefs would win, Steve was sure of the Packers.  He was right.  We spent a lot of time together and when he died he left an enormous vacuum for us all.  One that was never filled again.

Know this, cousinettes, Steve Cobb was a wonderful man.  He was never rich.  He was never terribly successful.  He loved my sister dearly and she worshiped him and I believe she loved him until the day she died.  He would be close to 70 today if he were still with us.  He would probably be fishing, and having a beer with his grandchildren.  I only wish you would have known him like I did.  If you want to know what he was like, spend the day with Michael.  The resemblance is there--fishing, beer and all.

Although you did not know him, you can remember him.    Look closely and you will see him.  He is a part of all of you.  One of the best parts.