Skinhorse Poetry: "The Empty Chair"

Large.
Rich in color.
Strong back.
Arms to support.
Residing place.
Presiding place.
Place of honor.
Place of grace.
Not unlike other
Chairs beside it.
And yet —
Yes, different.

Empty now.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Written during the funeral of President Gordon B. Hinckley, 15th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, on 2 Feb 2008.

That Ol' Fam Damily! Winnie Laura Dragoo

Winnie Laura Dragoo is my maternal great-grandmother.  I have tremendous respect for her.  Though she bore significant hardships in life, she seemed to have done so with much strength and love.  I hope that, somehow, I might have acquired some of the same genes which were reflected in her general character.

Winnie and her sibling, Andrew, were born in the home of their austere-looking maternal grandparents, Nathaniel Wheeler Tobey and Winnie Adeline Dennis, in the Oakalla/Copperas Cove area of Burnet County, Texas. 

This was the same home that her mother, Melvina Tobey, was born. The stone house was built in 1885 by Nathaniel, being made of "Austin cut stone" (so emphasized by my great aunt, Elba Hollon Hunter), and still stands today across the road from the Tobey Cemetery.  I personally touched the stones of this house back in 2001 while on a 2-week family history adventure through Texas and Oklahoma.  It was thrilling!

Nathaniel Wheeler Tobey was an owner of slaves in that area, and he used them to clear trees from a significant portion of land that he owned in the nearby Lampasas Valley.  I viewed this piece of land myself and considered the heavy price paid by those slaves.  The land there is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen; how tragic that it should be marred by human servitude.  In prayer, whilst gazing upon that valley, I sought to honor the strength and fortitude of those slaves and hoped that the land might be considered a sacred monument to their many deprivations in life.

The Tobey family is from England, having sailed to the Sandwich Isles in the early 1600s.  (They have some kind of ties to the Mayflower that I still have to sort out).  The Dennis family descends from Ireland.  Winnie Laura's father, Andrew Crawford Dragoo, is of French descent.  Eventually, the Dragoo family ties to the religiously persecuted French Huguenots and King Louis XIV's Royal Navy, which one of my ancestors reportedly deserted by jumping ship.

Unfortunately, little is known of Winnie's life as a child or youth. While still a teenager, she taught school in the Oakalla, Burnet County, Texas area before marrying Edward Jesse Hollon in 1896 just before her 18th birthday. 

Winnie's wedding dress was lovingly made by her mother, Melvina.  The photo of Winnie here shows her in that very dress.  White lace was probably not considered very practical for life in the Texas plains in the late 1800s.

From Oakalla in Burnet County, the family traveled east to Cameron in Milam County so that the wedding might be legally licensed at the nearest courthouse.  Afterward, Edward and Winnie enjoyed a three-month honeymoon in a covered wagon -- hunting, fishing, and camping along the Brazos River.  They then settled into farming to make their living together.

Winnie and Edward were married for 21 years before melanoma cancer of the face took Edward's life.  During that time, they deeply loved and adored one another and had nine children together, including Redell (a.k.a. Reid) who was born 21 days after the death of his father in 1917.  (Click here to read my story about Edward and the great care Winnie offered him prior to his death.)

Being left alone to struggle with the raising of six of the nine children led to difficult times. In that fateful year of 1917, Inez (age 19) was wed, less than two months before her father's death.  J.D. (17), or "Bud" as he was called, either took care of himself or helped with the family's income.  Bonnie (15) had already been living on her own for about a year and was later married for the first time at age 16.  That left Winnie with MayDell (13), Lois (10), Helen (8), Tooter (6), Elba (2), and her infant son, Redell. By all appearances, she was very much loved by each of her children.

Following Edward's death, Winnie sold the two-story family dwelling in Velasco, Texas. Over the next few years, she moved her family within Texas from Velasco to Sweeney and later to Alvin. She then moved again to Wichita Falls and back again to Alvin, where she apparently bought another home.  Possibly between these latter two moves, Winnie Laura married Jack R. Lane in Wichita Falls in July 1922 (five years after the death of her beloved Edward).  Due to Jack's stingy and intimidating nature, the marriage was short-lived.  

The 1930 Census reveals that Winnie, at age 51, owned her own home (worth about $2000) and was the manager of a poultry farm! She was still raising the youngest two of her nine children at the time -- Elba (15) and Redell (12).  Winnie also maintained her profession as a nurse for 40 years. 

In 1942, Winnie moved to Corpus Christi, Texas. One known address is 2918 Koepke Street, which I attempted to visit back in 2001.  Unfortunately, the house no longer stands.
 

 Winnie and mother, Melvina.

They seem to have been quite tickled about something in this photo.

 Winnie in later years, standing in the cellar of the old Tobey homestead
where she, her brother, Andrew, and her mother, Melvina, were all born.

Winnie wrote the following creed in 1957, which had apparently guided her for many years:

My motto.

I don't worry about yesterday.
It's gone.
I don't worry about today.
I don't have time.
I don't worry about tomorrow.
That's gambling.
I can't live yesterday over and I can't live tomorrow today,
but I can be careful what I think and say.

Laura Hollon

Winnie was more commonly referred to as Laura throughout much of her life. In fact, her gravestone reads Laura Winnie Lane. However, her probate birth record lists her name as Winnie Laura Dragoo, as attested by her own mother, Melvina Tobey Amos.

Winnie is buried next to her namesake, daughter Lois Laura (my grandmother), in Grand Prairie, Texas. Lois preceded her mother in death by 7-1/2 years. Thus, it was by total coincidence that the last available burial plot in the open section of the cemetery was located next to Lois, which the family gratefully assumed for their beloved mother in 1964 when she died at the age of 86.

My only possessions of Winnie.  Two shoes, one porcelain and one pewter,
which Winnie had among her collection of little shoes, handed down to her youngest daughter, Elba (my great aunt), and then from Elba to me.
Winnie's five-year diary in also in my possession, given to me by Aunt Juanita, one of Mom's sisters (click to enlarge image).  The diary actually covered 1940 - 1942.  It was given to Winnie by her great-grandsons, Hollon and Randle.

Here is my ancestral line of women following maternal ties back to my 3rd great-grandmother.  They are as follows, left-to-right: Winnie Adeline DENNIS, Melvina TOBEY Dragoo Amos, Winnie Laura DRAGOO Hollon Lane, Lois Laura HOLLON Plaskett, Yvonne Derelys PLASKETT Hancock Sylvester (nevermind the rest of her names), and me -- Jacqueline Joyce HANCOCK.

The Process of Prayer

The following is an excerpt  from one of my journal entries written over 5,000 moons ago.  It continues to be relevant to my experiences of today.  How funny that we should continue to face some of the same lessons at different seasons in our lives.


A friend of mine asked me to lunch and shared her concerns about wanting to do what the Lord wanted her to do--not wishing to make changes because of her need for change only.  She had prayed for new challenges before work that particular day and promised that, whatever it was, she would be up to it.  Then, as soon as she got to work, she had a voice mail message from a guy in another area of the state who was trying to put a team together to set out for a new venture with a different focus.

My friend was amazed and wondered if it were just a coincidence or not.  I said that it probably didn't matter.  She said it did, though, because if it were really Heavenly Father trying to tell her something, that she should pay more attention.  And, if he gave her a confirmation of where she should be heading, then--when things got rough--she could have confidence that everything would work out fine.

I then found myself just restating the idea that it probably did not matter much whether or not the call about the job were a coincidence.  I said I didn't really think it mattered much to the Lord whether she had this job, or that.  In the true perspective of the Lord, what matters most is the process of learning to more reliant upon the Lord in finding out what His will is for us.

I spoke aloud thoughts that I had never thought before.  Then, I suggested that she make her prayers more specific and diligent.  "Specific?" she asked.  Yes.  Sometimes, the words of our prayers are so generic that they can refer to our jobs one day and our callings the next.  Also, in being diligent in prayer, I suggested that the prayer be offered more than every few days and that it be offered in the spirit of fasting and prayer.  Not that fasting actually need be done (though it would be to her advantage); rather, that an attitude of prayer and fasting be developed.  When we are fasting, we are almost constantly aware of our needs and we seek to have the help of God in fulfilling them.  Such reliance upon the Lord must be developed in our everyday lives.

These words which flowed through me may have become a partial answer to her prayers for increased understanding.  As pertaining to entirely separate events of the day that I was experiencing on a personal level myself, these words most certainly became an answer to mine.

When seeking answer to prayer, I have always been one to have "good feelings" about one thing or another--nothing astoundingly positive nor disconcerting--just enough to cause me to continue moving towards the goal.  Drawing from my own experience, common sense, and already set strengths and capabilities, I have made and carried out decisions for my life.  Though I pray often about such decisions, rarely am I moved about by the assurance of direct, unmistakable answer to prayer.  Most of the time, anyway, I am okay with that.

I know that God does hear and answers my prayers.  But, it remains for me that the clearest part in finding answers to prayer is to brave the process of the search until a more sure reliance upon the Lord is developed.  Then--then, the answers will become more apparent.


For more thorough and inspired thoughts on the subject, read or watch Elder Richard G. Scott's March 2007 Conference Address, Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer.  For the written address, click here.   For the broadcast address, click here.

"Need" - Original Song by Jonathan Thwaits

Many moons ago, I worked more particularly with an extraordinary group of young women in my ward in Tucson.  First, I was blessed to be their Sunday School teacher; and when that class completed the year, I was called to be Laurel Advisor to this same group of wonderful gals.  I became quite close to most of them.  Connections formed with these young sisters of mine have kept my heart and mind grounded through the years.

One of these former young women of mine is Marisa.  At the time, Marisa's last name was Henderson.  Marisa has always struck me as being a most sensitive soul: reflective, down-to-earth, willing and ready to sacrifice, slow to anger and judgment, a peacemaker, a loyal friend, and a romantic.  In high school, she was also one of those stand out kind of gals in that she wore clothes that highlighted her as an individual, rather than just conform to the fashion norms.  Marisa was Alternative Rock, when Alternative Rock wasn't cool.

Marisa ended up marrying this guy with an oddly-spelled last name whom I never knew: Jonathan Thwaits.  For years, I didn't even know how to pronounce that name, and was rather challenged to not do painful somersaults when my tongue stuck to the sidewalk during the attempted roll of the "Th" part of the name.  As in THUD!  Come to find out, you just drop the "h"-sound  altogether.  You sound it out like waits, but you put the big, bold "T" ahead of the wait.  As it should be.  Marisa always has been amazingly patient, yet incredibly bold at the same time.  It makes sense that she would not only find a guy who suits her in so many compatible ways, but that she would find a guy with a last name that fits her personality, too.

Well, just like Marisa, her guy Jonathan has turned out to be quite a winner in my book.  Unpretentious, intelligent as all get out, playful, a dreamer with enough steady grounding to provide lovingly for his family while reaching for those dreams, a creative genius, and a soulful musician.  Through his music, I've come to admire the man that Jonathan is.

I have likewise been lifted up in spirit and continuing hope for the future of my former young woman, Marisa.  Yes, even as her blog title declares, All Good Things Come to Them that Thwaits.  She has made me a believer.

Here is one of Jon's original songs entitled, "Need."  This one touches me on a personal level and fits the theme of my own blog, Becoming Skinhorse, so I gladly include it here.  I hope you enjoy it and end up checking out some of his other songs, too.  He actually has his own blog with more of his original music.  But, for now . . . I hope you will enjoy this one at least half as much as I have.

Taking Risks

To laugh is to risk being a fool. 

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. 

To reach out to another is to risk involvement. 

To express feelings is to risk exposing your true self. 

To place your ideas, your dreams, before a crowd is to risk their loss. 

To love is to risk not being loved in return. 

To live is to risk dying. 

To hope is to risk despair. 

To try is to risk failure. 

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.  They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, or live.  Risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.  Only a person who risks is free.

- Leo Buscaglia

As a high school Junior, I lived in Sierra Vista, Arizona and was enrolled in Buena High School.  (Well, truthfully, as a Junior, I was enrolled in high schools four different times: in Tucson first, then Sierra Vista, then Safford, then back again to Sierra Vista.  These moves all followed on the heels of two high school enrollments in 9th grade and five more in 10th grade.  Mom wanted to move yet again just before the end of my 11th grade year, but I glued my feet to the floor and basically said, "You go; I'm staying."  Oh, but I digress.)  I managed to stay in Sierra Vista my entire Senior year and ended up graduating from Buena.

I was blessed to have an extraordinary teacher while at Buena: Dixi Dougherty.  We all called her Ms. D for short.  She loved her students and loved teaching, and it was part of her natural teaching style to regularly share profound quotes and other significant ideas.  The above quote by Leo Buscaglia is one that I remember her having shared during my high school years when I was taking her Psychology, Sociology, and U.S. Constitution classes.  I found it refreshing that her teaching style did not change despite the fact that the subjects were so different from one another.

I think some of the key gifts I received from Ms. D were her consistent messages about mankind's need for one another, our humanness, and just simple validation that the emotional patterns already apparent in my young life made sense and were worth something.  I dared to vulnerably share a few things when I was young.  I risked my heart.  She offered safety and understanding as I did so, and greatly enlarged my vision of self-worth and worth to others whom I might encounter in future days.

So, over the years, I've continued to do my share of risking in different ways, just as Leo Buscaglia and Ms. D counseled.  I've been able to discern reactions to me and my willingness to risk from several souls, too.  Those reactions have run the gamut—everything from downright suspicion, fear, and rejection to whole-hearted acceptance and love.  Because of the tangible pain repeatedly handed me as I have dared to risk, I have been tempted to mind my emotional Ps and Qs, to conform more, to blend in, to fade out.  But, the strongest part of my inner self continues to teach me, even scold me, saying, "Such thinking is not right.  Keep going.  Keep trying.  Keep sharing."

A few good handfuls of people along the way have spoken words to this general effect after observing me in action a little while: "Jacki, I just don't know how you can do and say some of the things you do and say.  I would be scared to death.  I could never do that. How do you?"  A lot of times, I have to ask for more specifics, because I just can't quite grasp what they are referencing.  Once they tell me, I am usually rather surprised that the particulars are such a big deal to the person.

As it turns out, the more critical and worthwhile question is one that I might ask them!  "How do you NOT say and do some of these things?"  It makes a whole lot more sense to me that we seek to allow the best parts of ourselves breathe free—even in the face of potential pain—rather than allow ourselves to be stifled, muffled, and even suffocated by real or portended fears.  Much more comes of life as we do so, especially when there are loved ones by our side to steadily share in the journey.

Click here for more wisdom on the subject: 
"Our Deepest Fear" - (April 18, 2009)