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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

and preserve these places for the future.

It used to be a joy for a large group to gather, taking a picnic lunch perhaps, and clean these dear spots. The older relatives reminiscing and telling the younger ones who this was, or relating some special memory of by-gone days. Have we become ashamed of our heritage?

In my times, especially the last 25 years the movement toward the uncaring, unconcerned has too quickly hastened its pace. Twenty-five years ago, maybe once, more often two or three times a year folks would gather for such events and enjoy them. Yes, many of them did not remember some of their relatives, for example, Aunt Alice’s mother died when she was about six month old.

Yet she remembers her grandparents, aunts and uncles vividly. Even our distant cousin, the late Honorable William Jennings Bryan, lawyer, politician, presidential candidate did not forget his roots, his family, the dead.

This we know for a fact since he had erected in the Pullen cemetery a stone monument in memory of his Lillard ancestors, and another (which was torn down some years ago) in memory of his Bryan (a.k.a. Bryant) ancestors.

When the yucca blooms on the mountain top,

When the grass is gettin’ tall,

We think to go and try to stop,

This vegetative sprawl

Here chiggers may bite, the gnats may sting,

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