Hollis Baker’s Blog

   

           Driving from here to Odessa is bad enough, but to give the eulogy for a favorite brother-in-law makes it more difficult.  The Odessian Plain is austere, flat, dry and oil rich.  The men are sun burnt, strong, tough and honest.  Add a sly grin to that description and you have a picture of my brother-in-law Eugene Pirtle.

 

          Eugene was born and grew up in a lovely family structure; he had 4 older sisters and 3 younger sisters.  His older brothers had already left home to serve in the army.  This may have colored his life a bit.  The girls teased Eugene when he was very young into making him think he was a girl.  One day he came in and announced if he were going to be a girl he would just dress like one.  He had on his mother’s corset.

 

          He grew up to become quite a man in spite of that rough start.  He and a neighbor, Orlee Haygood, bought a goat together.  It was supposed to be a milk goat, but as it grew fate decided it was a billy goat, and a mischievous one at that.  Mrs. Pirtle had washed the bed sheets on a rub-board with lye soap and hung them on the line to dry.  Looking out the window Mrs. Pirtle noticed the goat chewing on one of the clean sheets.  She shooed the goat; the goat ran, pulling all the sheets into the dirt.  That was when they all decided the goat would make better cabrito than milk.  This episode inspired Eugene, so he wrote a song and taught it to the girls:

     Oh, the billy goat, the billy goat,
 Was feeling fine Was feeling fine,
    He ate those sheets, those six white sheets
     right off the line
    Then the billy goat, the billy goat
      was feeling pain, was feeling pain
     He coughed up those sheets
      Those six white sheets,
     And flagged the train.

 

          Once Frances, and Fay, 2 of the older sisters, and Gene were digging a new cellar.  The younger sisters, Alice, Willine, and Betty were close by supervising.  They dug into a bed of baby skunks.  The older girls convinced Eugene the baby skunks would make great pets and would not smell.  Eugene convinced Mrs. Pirtle, so she relented, letting him have them for pets.  He kept them in a shoebox behind the cook stove.  One morning something disturbed the babies, and they all released their smell at one time.  That morning breakfast tasted good, but had a peculiar smell.  The shoebox was burned and the baby skunks were returned to the woods.

 

          Living on a farm the man of the house milks the cows.  You may be assured Eugene got the job.  One cow, “Legs, she was called,” was famous for having the habit of kicking the bucket just as it reached the halfway mark.  That morning she did it again.  All the milk did not spill, so Eugene took the pail with the little remaining milk, walked to the front of “Legs” and poured it over her head.  Of course the girls saw this.  From that time on the act was known as “The Time Gene baptized “Legs.”

 

          Once a neighbor, Mrs. Dutton, whose husband was out of town, said she was afraid of being home alone.  Brave Faye and Eugene offered to stay the night with her.  Unknown to them there was to be a total eclipse of the moon that night.  As the night, bright with a full moon, began getting darker a strange feeling crept over the farm house.  Eugene went to the window to see what was happening.  Mrs. Dutton noticed the unusual light and  came to the window and stumbled over Eugene.  They both screamed.  Faye, still in bed, leapt up and screamed.  Not knowing what was happening they all raced to the living room and landed on the couch, clutching each other.  They finely figured what was going on and had a good laugh.  

 

          The war ended and Eugene’s brothers, W.A. and James came home and moved to Burnet, Texas.  Eugene packed up his shirts, his sly grin, and came to Burnet, my home town.  Eugene was well received by us boys, and the girls were ecstatic.  Eugene helped organized an ‘Outlaw’ basket ball team.  We ordered satin black   uniforms, each with white double numbers.  Eugene’s number was eleven.  He stole so many balls from our opponents he became known as “Stealing Leben.”   Us six boys took on all comers.  We played the State Champion team from Johnson City and held them to 100 points to our 40.  Eugene invited a team from Ft. Hood to play us.  Their 4 teams arrived in 3 busses and pretty well ragged us until the only thing left in us was Gene’s grin.  Eugene was the only one of our gang to earn a ‘letter’ in basket ball.

 

          Eugene and I, and 3 other guys hatched  a plan to take a road trip to the Grand Canyon.  Dad loaned us his car and we loaded it with food, bedding and headed west.  Each night we  found a spot by the side of the road and camped.  Eugene was elected camp cook and he did a fine job. We later learned the reason he took the task; he didn’t want to drag firewood, or wash dishes.  We sampled Juarez, swam in the Pecos River, and reached the bottom of Carlsbad Caverns.  At the Grand Canyon we raced down Bright Angle Trail, and crawled back up.  On the way home we took in the Meteor Crater in Arizona.  Camping out that night Eugene cooked up pancakes from our dwindling larder, using substitute ingredients. He may have invented the toughest pancakes in history.  However, later we were able to use them to swat mosquitoes.  Arriving home, Dad was glad to see us 5 boys safe and sound.  And the car looked ok also.

            

           To the Burnet girl’s dismay, Eugene began dating a beautiful red headed, rancher’s daughter from Lampasas.  He and Veona, and me and my girl double dated all over central Texas.  Soon Gene introduced me to his little sister, Alice.  Us four became inseparable and dated in not only central Texas, but widened our scope to include the complete state.  We climbed mountains, swam rivers, explored caves, ate in cafes from Amarillo to Brownsville, and stayed up late from Texarkana to El Paso.  He married Veona, I married Alice.  He went west, and built a fine ‘oil patch’ buisness, and became a leader in the city of Odessa.  I stayed east, and enjoyed the green grass.  But the best thing Eugene did was introduce me to Alice, his little sister.    

 

          We reluctantly released Eugene into God’s care.  I know with his exuberance for life, his love for family and friends and his infectious sly grin he will take Heaven easily. 

 

 

 

 

           

 

         

 

         

 

         

         

 

           

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 10th, 2009 at 6:17 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.