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This is a portion of a paper written by Bonnie in 1956. I thought it was fitting to use here - She later went back and finished college, and wrote more about this on the "Grandpa" link below. My first vivid memory is the farm grandpa won when they opened up the Cherokee Strip. It had a pond to swim in, and orchard of peaches and apples -- even walnuts, a berry thicket to play house in. The family saddle horse named Old Star we could ride to go after the cows on, hay stacks to slide down -- dogs to hunt coons with. Happy memories flood my mind even tho I know something of the heartaches behind the scenes. Grandpa had a stake out on a plot of land that was excellent soil but was beat out by a sooner. This farm turned out to be a sand hill farm that wore out long before grandpa and grandma raised their seven girls. Of course one of the heartbreaks was the fact that they had no boys. Which is the reason they called me Bill. I was a poor excuse for the boy they prayed for. I was a skinny, tow-headed sad-faced child, but I out-did myself to be the tom-boy grandpa could brag about. I guess it was there I first developed my love for the limelight. I could climb telephone poles--or the wire they were grounded with. Even skin up the corner of a house clear to the roof. When a pet died and funeral services were required, it was I who was the preacher.
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Boneta,
mother Della, and Viva |
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Boneta as a young woman. |
Boneta at 86. |
