When the World was Mud Wonderful

Dear UD,

It’s spring again, which means rain and green, mud and warmer weather, flowers and baby birds, births and birthdays, yours, today.

 

It’s been eleven years since we lost you, eleven years since the last birthday we shared with you at your house. It seems both yesterday and forever ago that we all gathered together, playing Scrabble and Bridge, eating meals, laughing, talking, taking a walk around your land. All the family together, celebrating you.

 

Did you know, somehow, it was your last birthday that year? You invited us all, asking only that we bring a personal note or card, words of love and joy, gratitude for your place in our lives.

 

It’s been eleven years without you, UD, and I miss you still. I miss you and dad and mom. There are so many things I want to tell you all today, so many things to share. The best one is that I have a second grandson, Elijah, now, and he’s six months old and such a happy baby. DJ is now four and loves to read and play. You would all love them both. There’s so much that you all taught me that I now teach them, and I am grateful for your birthdays, your days with me, and your legacies that I pass on.

 

               The worst one is of news, wars and rumors of wars, famine, divide, the end nearer than ever. So many are hurting; so many are scared; so many are lost. Without hope.

 

But there is always hope.

               Every day, every moment is a choice. The best or the worst. The good or the bad. Which one will I focus on today? I remember how you once told me that I can stand in the middle of a raging storm and still be calm, still be okay. While I understood that intellectually then, I didn’t know how to do that. Now, I do.

 

               It’s spring again. It’s your birthday again. It’s storming outside right now: dark clouds roll by with strikes of lightning in between rolling thunder and strong winds blowing rain every which way. Yet I am at peace. Right here, right now, I have all I need. Right here, right now, I remember and honor you, mom, dad, and I am filled with love and hope. Right here, right now, the world is mud wonderful.

 

Love,

Rach

Seventy

Dear UD,

Seventy years ago you were born. Seven zero. Seven decades. Seven times ten. The world welcomed you for sixty-one years. Seventy minus nine.

 

“Minus,” a simple word, holds so much. Less than. Subtracted by. Diminished. Changed.

 

You, mom, dad, the others gone so soon…those of us who remain are changed by the subtraction. Our lives altered by your absence on this earth, but also transformed by your example in our lives.

 

Your years are over, and you are all missed so much. Yet your legacy and love and lessons live on in those you touched, live on in our memories, in our hearts, in our descendants.

 

For nine years, I have written letters— words to remember you all, words to share your lessons, words to honor our heritage.

 

Thank you, Uncle David, Mom, Dad. We wouldn’t be who we are without you, and we are grateful.

 

Love, Rach 

Barbara Ann Cunningham Crawford

A Legacy of Faith, Family, and Forgiveness:
Barbara Ann Cunningham Crawford aka Granny

She is worth far more than rubies. Proverbs 31:10

         Barbara Ann was born on a grain and sheep farm in Kansas in late summer of 1950 to Robert Bruce Cunningham and Bonnie Jean Volesky. She grew up on the farm with her brothers Bob and

David until a job change took the family first to Dodge City, Kansas and eventually to Clinton, Missouri where Barbara graduated from Clinton High School. Last summer, she attended her 50-year class reunion where she found a newspaper article from her senior year that said, “Friendly, lively, being gay and always wearing a big smile are only a few of the many features that crown Barbara Cunningham. She is very active in sports, her favorite pastime.”

            After high school, Barbara attended college at the University of Missouri for a year before taking time for exploration as young adults often do. During that period, she lived in California for three months where she went sailing for the first and only time before moving back to Missouri, worked as a waitress at a local restaurant and as secretary at the Chamber of Commerce, married Shelley Gene Rinehart, and had her first child. Within a year, the marriage ended, and in August of 1972, Barbara married Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. and started a family. They moved several times and had a few children before settling in Kansas City where they attended Baptist Temple and where they were both baptized. Barbara, who was saved at 13 at a summer Bible camp and then who rededicated her life to God when she was baptized, said that “knowing and having a relationship with Jesus saved her,” and over the years, it transformed her life and family.  

            Another job change came after a round of layoffs at TWA airline, so Barbara moved with her family to Houston, Missouri for a few years before relocating to the Crawford century family farm in Cabool where they lived for over thirty years. There, she raised a family of ten children, helped take care of farm animals (chickens, calves, goats, rabbits), gardened, attended church, welcomed anyone and everyone to her home, helped take care of her twenty plus grandkids, kept bird feeders that eventually fed a variety of birds every winter, feed numerous barn cats and dogs, worked as an enumerator at the Department of Agriculture, and took care of her inlaws when they became elderly. From taking care of children to working the land, Barbara was a hard worker. And through it all, she prioritized time with God and time with those she loved, making many memories and creating lasting experiences. 

Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing. Theodore Roosevelt.

With 10 children, 26 grandchildren, and one recent addition of a great-grandchild, Barbara’s house was always full of noise, craziness, rivalry, rowdiness, wrestling, fun, laughter, love. She loved watching her children and grandchildren in their various sports or extracurricular activities and never missed a game or concert. In recent years, she had a grandchild in nearly every grade in the Houston School District, so she attended numerous events. She also loved exploring nature, swimming, and walking the river with her kids and grandkids. She loved playing Scrabble and Bridge and watching sports, especially

football. Every spring, she planted a flower garden and a vegetable garden, and she enjoyed working in the garden and eating the fresh produce, especially her asparagus. Barbara attended Bado Church and loved taking her children and then grandchildren with her. She also served at Bado Church as needed on Sundays, in the summers for VBS, and as part of the women’s prayer group.

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:58 

Every fall, she attended the Cunningham Family Apple Butter Day, and every summer, she hosted Crawford Camp at Baptist Camp. For events like these, all family and friends were invited, and she helped plan and make delicious, homemade meals. There was always enough food to feed an army, but with so many family members and friends, the food was always eaten.

Last Christmas at the family dinner, we watched some old family videos, and one of the them was Katch’s second birthday where Carly kept opening all of his presents for him. One thing he got was a Tonka truck, and Mom said that was a story she loved. Little Sonny and Aidan were about 10 or 11, and they were upset that they’d missed sledding that winter, and they thought it would be like sledding so they took an old Tonka truck up to Possum Creek hill and took turns riding it down. She laughed as she retold the story. 

She was always about bringing people together and letting go of bitterness and anger. For instance, in the summer of 2018, she hosted a reunion and reconciliation for extended Crawford family.

In recent years, she was known to remark on how lucky she was and how much she loved her life—the days of having her children and grandchildren visit, attending family events, working in her garden, attending her church, taking road tips to see her brother, enjoying special lunches with her friends. She enjoyed life, and she loved us all.

Reading through her last journal, a picture emerged of one who always thought of others, one who always praised God, and one who gave of herself. Throughout 2018, she wrote about spending time with her children and grandchildren, about praying for them, about concern and love for her family and friends. Even though she was in intense pain for months, she rarely mentioned it, instead focusing on what mattered to her—God, family, friends, prayer, experiences. In her journal, her spirit, grace, positive attitude, kindness, and love shine through. 

Strength and honor are her clothing; She shall rejoice in time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, And on her tongue is the law of kindness. She watches over the ways of her household, And does not eat the bread of idleness.  Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praises her:  “Many daughters have done well, But you excel them all.”  Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, And let her own works praise her in the gates. Proverbs 31:25-31

A beloved mother and grandmother, a virtuous wife, and a loving sister and friend, she leaves a legacy of faith, family, forgiveness as well as Christian living, homemade cooking, and sacrifice.

Thich Nhat Than said, “If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.” So I will look for her influence inside me and my siblings and all of those she touched with her spirit and generosity, her dedication and support, and her strength and positivity.

Mom/Granny, we love you. Thank you for always being there for us, for welcoming us, for loving us, for feeding us, for teaching us so much, and for praying for us. You are loved, and you will be missed more than words can say. We are blessed that you are our Mom and Granny.

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We want to honor Mom, her life, and the ways that she influenced us, so if friends or family have a memory and/or photo that you want to share, feel free to email it to me to add to this blog or any of you can add your memory in the comments below.

Remembering Barbara (Mom/Granny)

Rachel:

I read recently that simply hearing your mother’s voice lowers your stress level. I also read recently that mothers and their children literally share DNA, share cells.

            I think of memories, some sweeter than others, some mundane with daily chores and living, some filled with adventure and joy, some complicated with misunderstandings or emotions, but every piece of me is layered with pieces of you. Your words (advice, lessons, criticism) surround me, fill me, build me. Whether I want it or not.

            How I cook, how I speak, how I think, how I clean, how I view the world, how I learn, how I love—so much shaped by your hands, your heart, your voice, your behavior, your life, you. 

I can't imagine the world without you in it and don't want to. Only one thing has not changed during my lifetime, and that is you in my world, my mom.

Adventure as in viewing life as an adventure. As in going on adventures with you. As in finding adventure in every day details. As in hunting for rocks with holes in them at the riverbank. As in apple-picking, mulberry-picking, blackberry-picking. As in walking to the slab, walking the river, hiking to the narrows in snow and 20-degree weather that feels warm after the temperatures had fallen below zero. As in naming the tiny river turtles we found Mishas and putting them in a fish tank. As in searching for arrowheads in the cemetery when mowing it. As in mushroom-hunting, even in a thunderstorm. As in going outside to see the tornado funnel in the sky. As in stopping to roll down the windows and howl at the full moon on the drive home. As in listening to you read books to us.

Bridge as in playing Bridge with you. As in crossing bridges to get to the family farm. As in swimming near the bridge at Flat Rocks. As in water over the bridge. As in a bridge between you and me, always. 

Churches on every street corner in the Bible Belt; churches in our lives. I first remember Tri-City Baptist Church in Kansas City, Missouri, where we were saved and baptized. During that time, I went to a Christian school, but then we moved back to the family farm and went to First Baptist Church in Houston, Missouri, where I would one day marry my college sweetheart as you sat in the front pew. We attended First Baptist until you switched to Bado Church, a small country church, where you still take your grandkids and where you lead the prayer group. Churches where

Christianity is taught, where Christians fellowship, where Christ is celebrated. Christmas programs in the church. When I was a teen, I wrote and directed a play at Bado. Two years ago, I helped organize a play where Alaina played Mary and Aidan played Joseph while other cousins played various characters, again at Bado. A beautiful and fun Christmas program that we still talk about to this day. This year, we watched the Bado Christmas program where Cassius sang a solo and Jessalyn played a character. Christmas Eves where I babysat while you and Dad went shopping. Christmas Eves where you made a birthday cake for Baby Jesus, read the Christmas story to us. We sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and

blew out the candles. Or we gathered around the piano and sang, “Do You Hear What I Hear?” while Dad played. Christmas mornings where I passed out the presents to everyone, and we each took turns opening our gifts. Christmas Days where we played games, ate a huge Christmas dinner, and hung out. Churches where we memorized Bible verses and went to church camp in the summers. Churches—where your heart is, there your treasures lie. Churches—as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Dinner at six sharp every evening with freshly homemade rolls. Dinners started with a prayer of thanksgiving. Dinners ended with homemade desserts. Daily dinners when we shared food and family, conversation and laughter.

Farm eggs, farm animals, farm-fresh beef, farm-fresh milk, century farm, farming. Growing up, we had chickens, rabbits, goats, cows, horses, dogs, cats. We hauled hay, jumped from the barn rafters, and helped work the farm—steering cattle, tilling dirt, planting seeds, hauling hay, milking goats and cows, fishing in the pond for catfish or bass or perch, mowing the lawn, picking the garden, shelling the peas, snapping the beans, shucking the corn, canning pickles or beets or tomato juice or salsa.  

Garden, gardening, gardenia, keeping a garden, no matter where you lived, you have always had a vegetable and flower garden.

Journals, journaling, journal writing, writing in journals. When I was little, you bought me a little pink diary that had a lock and tiny key. I remember writing in it. When I was older, you gave me notebooks to use as journals. For as long as I can remember, I’ve journaled, filled notebooks, written words of my daily life and innermost thoughts in journals. All because you first bought me a diary and invited me to share my thoughts on paper.

Kids, 10 kids, 25 grandkids, 1 great-grandkid, babysitting kids, teaching kids, watching kids play sports, talking to kids, walking with kids, swimming with kids, reading to kids, chasing kids, loving kids. House full of kids. The noise, the craziness, the rowdiness, the wrestling, the tea parties, the sleepovers, always you love a house full of kids.

Pretty smile, pretty spirit, pretty woman.

Service, selfless, giving of self to others…your greatest lesson to all of us. You live this, love this, show this in all that you do every day in every way.

Wild flowers— I remember all the flowers I picked for you for Mother’s Day. I walked up and down the Ozark hills, through the woods and fields of the family farm, over the rivers, hunting for splashes of red, purple, blue, yellow. One by one, I picked the flowers and walked back to hand you a colorful bouquet of wild flowers.
Jill:

The pain felt upon departure of loved ones from this life will generally mirror the joy we felt while they remained with us. –Sam Storms.

I can only speak for myself, but one thing that I know for sure is that my mom brought me more joy in this lifetime than any other person, therefore her death stings in a way that is hard to describe. My heart will always both ache and leap for joy at the sound of her name and every day will hold a little reminder of her as her name no longer flashes across my text or call screen as it did every single day before. My mom was an incredible woman. She loved her children and grandchildren deeply. If you know her at all, you know that I don’t say this lightly. She was there. At every event, every game, every award ceremony. She cheered us on, bragged on us, and prayed for us daily. We can each say that she was our biggest fan and we each know that she loved us in a unique and incredible way. To love 10 kids, 26 grandkids, and one great grandchild so deeply takes a very special kind of woman. I would say with great confidence, that there is no other person on this Earth that could have done a better job of loving all of us than she did. This death that we are mourning today would completely wreck me if it weren’t for one thing. That is my hope of eternity. I take comfort in knowing that I will see my beautiful mom again one day. I take comfort in knowing that my mom is in a beautiful place with a new, healthy body and is experiencing unspeakable joy. Death from cancer is a very difficult thing to experience.

Watching someone that you love desperately who is vibrant and full of life decline so quickly hurts in a way that is difficult to explain. The minute I found out that my mom had cancer, I knew that God had called me to go to her. To help her in any way that I could, so I went. The experience was both beautiful and traumatic and I know for sure that God carried me through every bit of it. As I sat by that hospital bed and held my mom’s hand and stroked her hair, every bit of me just wanted to scream in frustration. Why was this happening? Why my mom? Why so soon? Why did she have to suffer in this way? In the midst of this heartache, God threw his arms around me and stilled my heart. He strengthened me in a way that I can’t explain, and I stood to my feet and began to tell my mom of her future. She already knew, but I told her that she was on her way to Jesus, that she would soon run into his arms. That she would be out of this hospital bed and instead dancing in his presence. I told her that she would receive so many crowns for her steadfast life and that she would never ever feel sorrow again. These words, breathed through me by the spirit of God, brought me comfort in an indescribable way and I know they did the same for her. As I was telling her all of this, I replayed a conversation that we had earlier in the week when she was coherent, and I’d like to share part of it with you today.

The following is a message that she personally asked me to pass along in case she didn’t get the chance to: “I have greatly enjoyed every minute that I have spent with my children and grandchildren. They have given me so much joy. I need them to know though, that it all will be for nothing if they don’t join me in eternity. I really hope that each of them will accept Jesus as their savior so that I will see them all again one day.”

It is easy to wonder after a loved one passes, what they’d say if you could have just one more conversation with them. Today you have been given a beautiful gift of knowing exactly what she’d say if given the chance. I am hoping that this message from the grave is one that is taken to heart by every person in this room even if you didn’t call this woman Mom/Granny.

This next song is a song that I played for Mom, in her distress, on her death bed. I hope that you will listen to it and imagine that you are in her place when I played it for her…think about whether or not the words would give you peace in that moment. If they wouldn’t…if the thought of those words doesn’t stir your heart with great anticipation of eternity, if it doesn’t make your hair stand on end and your heart leap for joy, then I desperately pray that you evaluate your heart and make the decisions you need to get to that place. What this song portrays is something that nothing and no one can ever take away from you. Not death or life, not cancer or any other disease, not fear or failure…nothing can separate us from this beautiful reunion with our savior. That you would secure this destiny was her hope. It is what she lived her life for. It is what her legacy was meant to represent and, in my opinion, the greatest legacy a person could possibly leave. I am so grateful to her for being the example that helped me find the incredible love of God. I have had much suffering and heartache in the last month. Everyone in this room has. There have been so many tears shed, and so much sadness. I can only imagine what it will be like when tears will never fall again. When every bit of life is filled with joy and my heart will never break again. When I get my inheritance…not the one on this earth that moths and rust destroy, but my inheritance of eternity, I hope the mansion God prepared for me is right by hers.

The song that played after was “I Can Only Imagine.”

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In Barbara’s words:

I was born on a grain (corn and wheat)/sheep farm in Kansas in 1950, and we lived five miles from town, next door to my grandparents (Myrtle and Claude—Grandpa Bruce’s parents). My dad helped his dad farm but always had to take other jobs working on the turnpike and such, things that took him away from home, to make ends meet. Daddy’s brother, Uncle Jim, lived on a farm on the other side of town, and they once bought a buffalo and Daddy rode the bulls in the rodeo and Mom (Grandma Bonnie) got so mad that she made him shave off his beard. John Charles was born at seven months, and he died. Back then they didn’t have the technology, though now he probably would have lived. In 1952, Bob was born, and in ‘54 David was born.

We had a pony and Daddy was off working on the turnpike; we had a drought and by the time he got back, the pond had dried up and the pony had died. I remember the trailer taking the pony away. One time, Daddy brought home baby skunks; we kept them in the tractor-trailer sandpile and played with them. One night it rained really hard, and they all drowned. We had a dog named Lassie, a Collie. She wasn’t fixed, but since we lived close to the highway, most of her puppies were killed on the highway. A miniature Shelty showed up once, and we called every name we could think of and the dog finally came to Nicey so we named her that and took her with us when we moved.

We went to a two-room schoolhouse, riding the bus, and Mom made me take my egg sandwich on the bus because I wasn’t eating it. I was so mad I threw it under the bus when we were leaving.

We had rock collections and would go to this wooded area on the other side of our garden where we built forts and played.

When I was eight, Daddy needed help in the field, so I had to stand up to drive the grain truck. It was huge, and I was terrified, and to this day, I hate driving big things.

Daddy took us out to teach us to shoot. When I shot the shotgun, I remember it about knocked me over; I was around seven.

Bull snakes were everywhere (yellow but similar to Black snakes in Missouri). My mom would open up a closet or cabinet and find a snake. Daddy would always catch them and show us how to hold them, and we played with them all the time. In high school, when boys tried to chase me with snakes, they failed.

Every Easter, Mom got us a baby duck or chick, and we would play with them until eventually the cats or dogs would get them.

One time my mom told me to play with the kitties in a shed or outhouse. I was playing with them when my mom came to check on me and discovered that a tomcat had bit off all their heads. At age five or under, I was just in there playing with them.

One of my favorite things was that we would go to the barn after they parked the truck of wheat. We’d climb up into the rafters and jump down into the bed of wheat. Probably dangerous, you could suffocate, but it was fun!

We were wild, and we played up in the barn with forts. One time my cousin Tim was scared to jump from the loft onto the ground, so I pushed him, and he broke his arm.

I love windmills, and I still remember my grandma’s windmill. Would love to see it again. After grandpa died, we found a dead baby bird and put it in a matchbox. We went up into the windmill and held a funeral for it.

I always felt sorry for my mother because she went to high school when she was nine and lived in an apartment in town until she was 13 and then went to college and lived in a rooming house and got degrees in foreign languages and business. But she never learned anything about cooking or keeping a house. She met Daddy at K-State, got married, and went to live on the farm. Grandma Myrtle was an accomplished, high society person (she was featured in Life magazine for her mint-chocolate sherbet ice cream—she had an herb garden that I loved, and in a tree by it, she had a Baltimore Oriole nest that was so cool), and Aunt Betty had a degree in home economics. Mom learned quickly and worked hard, but it was difficult for her.

Mom was in Life magazine for being a “wonder” kid, starting high school at nine. Here’s how it happened: she went to a one-room school house with her sister. Aunt Carol was a few years older than her, but Bonnie had a photographic memory. She listened to everything when Carol was studying for the test to pass high school and memorized everything. She took the test and passed and moved into town with her sister.

She was offered a job to go to South America and work as a secretary but instead got married and had kids. On a typewriter, she could type 80 words a minute. She was a secretary off and on throughout her life.

When I went to kindergarten, she got a job to pay for it because you had to pay for it back then.

I used to love when they sheered sheep. We had 500 sheep, and there was always a lamb that wasn’t claimed, and we’d have a Coke bottle with a black nipple on it, and we’d feed them. When they sheered the sheep, they had big rectangular bags and would throw the wool in there. We would stomp on the bags to compact the wool and thought it was fun.

Bob and I had the measles and had to lay at my grandma’s in a dark room and couldn’t go anywhere.

When I was nine, Grandpa Claude died suddenly of a heart attack when in a meeting. He’d been a senator in the state office, professor of math at K-State, and a judge at the state fair. I remember going to the state fair and seeing a huge fat man who weighed a 1000 pounds and would say in a slow, monotone voice, “Don’t ever eat enough to get like this.”

After Grandpa died, Daddy bought a bunch of irrigation equipment, feed, and seed, and then found out his mom had signed over the farm to the government for money. They paid you not to farm. He was devastated. We had to move from the farm to Dodge City, Kansas where there were 42 kids on one neighborhood block. Daddy got a job as an agriculture salesman and would leave every Sunday night and get back on Friday evening. Mom got a secretary job.

Bob went everywhere with Daddy on the farm while David was always with Mom. I ran across the field through cedar trees to get to my grandma’s house and was there a lot. I remember making cinnamon rolls with her, learning to play cribbage, having tea parties together, and working in her herb garden. Once Daddy had a job that took him away every week, it about killed Bob. I remember Bob watching for Daddy to come home, and sometimes Daddy would go to the bar instead. We always had a garden, even in town, and each of us kids had our own garden too. Once, some neighborhood kids came over and stomped on our gardens. Bob wanted to beat them up, he may have, and David went across the street to one of the kid’s house. He had something behind his back and knocked on the door. When the kid answered, he gave him a cookie to make peace.

We were backward and didn’t know how to ride bikes. The other kids made fun of us.

We had tall trees in our backyard and would climb up in them and fly when the wind bent them low; Spookyville—we called the trees. We were still wild.

Once we got used to all the kids, we played games with them: walk the chalk, kick the can, draw a face on the old man’s back.

There were dust storms there….one year it was so bad it was black out, and we couldn’t see out the window at all. One year on David’s sixth or seventh birthday (March 15), we had a blizzard, and it was so bad that we couldn’t get out of our back door while our neighbors couldn’t get out of their front door. The snow was piled up to the roof!

We lived there for two years…

I don’t know how we dealt with all the moves. Kids just survive things. You just survive it.

            Daddy got what he thought was a great job in Garden City, Kansas. We moved there, and he started the agriculture job only to find out that one of the numbers he originally saw was missing. The pay was so bad (like $6000 instead of $60000) that he immediately quit and got a job in Sublet. He worked there while Mom and us kids went to stay with my Grandma in Marysville, Kansas for December. Then, Daddy got a better job, still with agriculture sales, with Chevron in Palmyra, Missouri, and we moved there for a couple of years. When they transferred him to Clinton, Missouri, I did not want to move. I told my parents that I refused to move. Once school started in Clinton, it ended up being better, but I threw a fit and hated everything that summer. When Daddy was 50, Chevron let him go so that they wouldn’t have to pay him retirement. It was age discrimination. He fought it and then bought the Mayview Plant Foods and started his own business. Daddy and Mom moved to Higginsville, and he eventually bought RB’s Feed and Seed and built his business up so that he had a quarter of a million dollars at the end.

            I want everyone to hear these stories and remember those who came before.  

Road Trip

Dear UD,

Taking a road trip with you is better than all the travels in the world.

2006, Lexi and Laina, young girls, giggle in the backseat while you drive with me in the passenger seat.

Like the time when you taught 16-year-old me how to drive. Then, my siblings Sonny and Britt and Amanda sat in the backseat with me in the front passenger seat. Both then and now, we ride curves, glide up and down hills, traveling between the Crawford farm nestled in the Bible-belt of the Ozark Mountains and the Cunningham farm or your welcoming house, both near the greater Kansas City area.

Then, you offered driving tips, advice on how to drive, or how NOT to drive, as we later laughed about when, on that road trip, you missed the sharp turn sign indicating a 90 degree turn and plowed the rental car straight onto the gravel road, into the ditch, landing against the barbed wire fence. Luckily, everyone was fine, and we piled back into the car, driving the dented rental all the way.

Then, we talked bookshelves and jungle gyms (you built for the family), Chuckles (the bean bag throw game that Grandpa Bruce made and you delivered), family stories, garden harvest, and driving tips.

Now, we’re in your light blue 2006 Ford Taurus, sailing the curves and hills between family farms. On this road trip, we talk Broadway shows and musicals in between listening to the Wicked and Into the Woods original Broadway cast recordings. After each number, you pause the CD and interpret the lines for us, and we discuss characters and themes. I know in this moment that I will always remember these road trips with you, these discussions with you, these lessons and learning.

Years later, Lexi, Laina, and I saw Wicked off Broadway, and more years later, Pippin on Broadway. Throughout the years, we’ve watched the movie versions of various musicals from Oklahoma, Singing in the Rain, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, and Annie Get Your Gun to Grease, Hairspray, Billy Elliot, The Court Jester, Mamma Mia, Chicago, Jersey Boys, Newsies, Phantom of the Opera, to Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, Mulan, Cinderella, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Aladdin, and Anastasia. And so on. Plus, we’ve attended local productions of shows such as The Man of La Mancha and Fiddler on the Roof.

On December 31^st, 2014, we decided to celebrate Lexi’s 20^th birthday at your house; this time the three of us took another road trip between family farms, and that evening, we went to the movies with you, Britt, and Sean to watch Into the Woods. What a thrill to see the story you shared with us so long before come to life on the big screen! Four months later, you left this world, so that was the last movie we would have a chance to see with you. I wish we could see more, but I’m glad the last one was a Broadway musical. And I’m glad that we played Broadway that night, the board game that you created, another memory, another connection.

Uncle David, without you, I doubt we would have our love of musicals and all things Broadway, and I am so grateful to you for teaching us, through musicals, about life and literature and living and loving.

2018, everyone’s talking about Hamilton, and remembering our road trips, I bought the original Broadway cast recording. It arrived this week and sits, unopened, on my dining room table. I am excited to listen to it and explore the story, and at the same time, I wish you were here to listen to it with me, interpret the lines, and tell me the story.

So many things you taught me, but you did not “Teach me how to say goodbye” (Alexander Hamilton, “The World Was Wide Enough”).

But what you did teach, I promise to pass on. This summer, I will take a road trip, play the Hamilton CD, and share it with someone else.

“Legacy. What is a legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see”- Alexander Hamilton, “The World Was Wide Enough.”

UD, your legacy lives on in the lives of your loved ones, and we are all the richer for it.

Love, Rach

Christmas Letter

To say that there were many changes in the Crawford family and world this year would be a grievous understatement. The major changes were precipitated in May of 2014 with the passing of Newton Ulysses Crawford, Sr. (Grandpa Crawford to our clan and the family patriarch) at age 96; he lived in his house most of his life (with the exception of his 30 years of service as a naval officer) on the plethora of land that has been in our family’s hands for over 100 years. 

Before we could fully process that event and what it meant to our lives, Newton Jr. (Dad to me and my siblings as well as Gaffer to 20 grandkids) was diagnosed with lung cancer, and Newton the Third (aka Sonny) moved into Grandpa’s house with his two kids. In August when my daughters and I visited Missouri for Crawford camp, Dad lamented that he would not live long enough to farm, and he gave each grandchild a coin from his childhood collection that had just been returned to him. Soon after, he received his treatment options and chose hospice.

Aunt Clarice, the reigning matriarch from Mom’s side of the family, the Cunningham Clan, had passed away the previous fall, and Mom traveled with her two brothers to help settle the estate in the fall of 2014. I remember Uncle David distressingly recounting that the three of them were all that was left now of the family in their generation. 

 

Last fall, Laina and I packed up our three-bedroom condo, selling or donating much of the furniture, and drove to the Missouri farm to be with family. For a semester, we moved into the upstairs of the farmhouse where I grew up, and Lexi flew in for the holidays. After enjoying an emotional and action-packed Christmas with the family, what we knew would be our last one with Dad, I drove Dad’s Cadillac to Kansas City so that Lexi and Laina could see their dad’s family for a few days. We spent New Year’s Eve/Lexi’s 20^th birthday with their grandparents during the day and then with Uncle David and Brittany that night, ringing in the new year with family.

We stopped by Brittany’s house on the way back to the farm but had to cut the visit short when Dad’s condition began to deteriorate more rapidly. I pulled an all-nighter, driving back late that evening, arriving first thing on the morning of January third. I knew he was seriously ill; however, I couldn’t comprehend a world without him in it. Regardless, we had to say our final goodbyes, and by the next morning, Dad was gone.

The first part of the year, we spent attempting to adjust to our new world, a place without Dad. An arduous task.

I’ll never forget April 28^th and the phone call that changed everything, again. Uncle David died suddenly, and we were left to pick up the pieces, again. So within the first four pernicious months of 2015, we attended two funerals and lost two important men in our family. Since then, Mom has moved into another place on the farm, and our childhood home is now Ben’s house. Uncle Bob moved into Uncle David’s house, and the Cunningham farm where we made apple butter for over ten years is now cousin Robert’s home.

So, what has everyone been up to in the midst of dealing with the aftermath of our personal family earthquake?

After enjoying the severe winter and lovely spring of the Ozarks (not to mention the family birthdays and events, Bado church services, Stars Foundation theater and ballet performances, and numerous Spades tournaments), I moved back to the eastern coast of Florida where I had classes lined up to teach and where Laina could finish high school with her friends. We moved into a two-bedroom condo near her school, and I went back to taking as many classes as possible to make ends meet. Cost of living has gone up, so I am teaching even more classes (seven per semester if I can get them). I also applied for and even interviewed for jobs, though so far nothing has emanated. This fall, I joined a GreifShare group at our local church in order to have support through this difficult time. That and writing these blog entries (I still haven’t been able to start journaling again…maybe next year) and conversations with friends and family and weekly phone calls with my cousin Alyssa have helped me as I process everything.

Lexi graduated from AMDA performing arts school in February, and after staying to audition in New York for another month, she moved to Orlando, Florida where she began coaching gymnastics at Metro Gym and went to numerous auditions. In August, she attended the Rockettes Summer Intensive in NYC and then quit her job as a coach, moved back home, and signed up for classes at Eastern Florida where she will finish her AA in a year and graduate in the honors program. She also started teaching dance classes at a local studio. College classes, dance classes, and auditions keep her busy, and on top of all of that, she started working at Chili’s as a hostess during the weekends.

Laina is a junior at Viera High School where she and one of her best friends volunteers as a student assistant for the football team. She attended every practice and every game, standing on the sidelines with the football team, handing them water and other needed supplies. This year, VHS varsity football made it to the state championship, coming in second in their division. Laina is an honor student, taking advanced classes like Honors Pre-cal, Honors Economics/Government, Honors English, and Physics. She is also on a local competitive cheer team, so she has practices during the evenings.

Brittany continues thriving in her job and community where she is not only the school counselor but also the girls’ softball coach, Junior class sponsor, and NHS advisor. Sean is playing saxophone in the band and playing basketball. He has a pet snake named Rusty and a sheltie named Chap. Mark holds everything together and was the tootsie roll drive chairperson who helped double the amount made in previous years.

 

Sonny still lives with his family on the farm, working with Sam and Dan at Walmart warehouse. A straight-A student, Carly is a sophomore in high school and was crowned Houston High Homecoming Queen this fall in between her active schedule at school in band, choir, student council, and sports (a pitcher on the softball team and a point guard on the basketball team). She had her sweet 16 birthday, got her driver’s license, and recently started waitressing at a local diner. Little Sonny played 7^th grade football and spends his free time plotting pranks.

Amanda has been working with Palen for four years and enjoys traveling and working with many different area band programs. Tom is in his fourth year of teaching at Ozark, and the band had a very successful marching season this year. Brett is now 12 years old and active in piano, trombone, and swimming. Brett, a musical prodigy following in Gaffer’s footsteps, has performed several outstanding piano recitals. Cale is seven years old and active in swimming and baseball. Brett and Cale are unique rapscallions. In fact, Tom posted once about how anyone considering having children could borrow their boys for a day of clothing shopping to cure that desire!

Sarah has had a tumultuous year in and out of the hospital and rehabs; however, the experiences have helped, and she has turned her life around. As always, she is a hard worker who is always helping those around with various projects. Malachi graduated from Houston High School with his high school sweetheart Chelsea. Aidan started his freshman year at Houston High and played on the football team.

 

Jill and Adam left Rolla to move onto the family farm, digging a well and settling in to their new home. Jill continues waitressing and began working with Mom as an enumerator for Missouri Agriculture Statistics (which means driving all over the Ozarks and interviewing farmers). Also, Jill entered the Labrada Lean Body Challenge, a national contest that included Canada with thousands of entries, and she won first in her age group. She continues working out and is studying for her personal trainer certification and inspires us all along the way. Adam is taking classes towards his degree and working at UPS. Their family adopted Uncle David’s small terrier mix, Lucky, in May, and a small tabby kitten, Gracie, who showed up on their doorsteps this fall. Owen is homeschooling and excelled in basketball while Jax started preschool and his first year of soccer and basketball. Mia is a force to be reckoned with. 

All of Sam and Serena’s kids are excelling in school and getting great reviews from their teachers who even mentioned how exciting it was to have “intelligent” Crawfords in their classes. Katch, another musical prodigy following in Gaffer’s footsteps, is a middle schooler who is playing the trombone in the high school band. He has taught himself songs on the piano and is interested in the guitar. Coached by his uncle and dad, the defensive coach, Kayden finished football with a super bowl win while Isis started school and played her first round of basketball, showing off her dribbling skills. Kane and Owen played on the same basketball team, making a great combo and shooting most of the baskets for the team. Sam and Serena are using the house plans created by Uncle David, and their addition will include six more rooms and a garage. Serena also runs a highly successful business of cake toppers out of their home, and at work, Sam became the first worker to throw a million cases and earned a photoshoot that had him and his brothers running for the hills.

Ben farms, raises rabbits and beef cattle, and is a supervisor at the Houston Walmart while Christin works at a daycare and volunteers at church, working with the 4-H Clover Kids. Cadence is a straight A student who plays piano and basketball, and the twins played soccer and basketball. Ember started preschool and has aspirations to be the next Dolly Parton, Granny says.

Dan recently left Walmart and is in the process of embarking on a new career and a new life with his girlfriend Lynn and her daughter Hailey. 

Martin took a break from welding except for projects around the farm and spends his time playing videos and various sports as well as tormenting his nieces and nephews.

If I continued to tell you all of the activities and accomplishments of this prolific and precocious family, it would fill pages. Just this week, Mom told me a story about how someone remarked that there were sure a lot of kids in the Christmas play at Bado Church this year. Mom soon realized that out of the 31 kids participating, 15 of them were her grandchildren!

Thus, in the midst of a painful and challenging year and although we have a litany of protests regarding so many changes, we continue in the vein of those we’ve lost as we use our creativity and intelligence in productive ways.

 

This year brings a whole new world to our family and our holiday celebrations; as Greifshare recommends, we have to find a “new normal” now. We don’t know what that looks like yet, and the process is extremely challenging; however, we will do our best and carry forward. That means we will start some new traditions while continuing others. Regardless, we know we are blessed. We have our memories, and we have each other. We stand on the solid foundation of a strong legacy left by Grandpa Crawford, Dad, Uncle David and others that we lost and remember (like our great-grandparents Iva, Brick, and Joe, Myrtle and Claude, Homer and Bessie, Grandpa Bruce, Grandma Bonnie, Grandma Juanita and the generations before them). And, we are grateful for Grandma Helen’s continued role in the family. We stand on the solid foundation of our land and our faith and all of the gifts God has provided. Gifts like family, intelligence, creativity, strength, beauty, and love. Gifts like land, talents, work-ethic, farming, and knowledge. We cherish these and vow to use what we have been given to bless others. Legacy, tradition, and family, not money or material possessions.  Family, tradition, and legacy, we embrace these during this season and in the New Year to come.

PS: No words were harmed in the writing of this letter. I wrote this in the time-honored tradition of Dad and his voracious use of large vocabulary words (at least I did my best!). Should you not know the meaning of a word I’ve used here, in the words of Dad, “Look it up in the dictionary.”

Blessings to you and yours this holiday season. We wish you laughter, love, tradition, fun, peace, and joy. Most of all, we wish you time together with those you love.

Written in loving memory of Dad and Uncle David.