Family Tree: Part 1

Walter and Maggie Campbell were the parents of seven children, one of which was my dad, James Glenn Campbell. The Senior part of his name was added when I was born as Junior. Grandpa, or Walter Barb Campbell, lived from October 23, 1895 until May 9, 1975. Grandma, Mary Magadalene West Campbell, was born July 28, 1899 and lived until December 1, 1985. She went by the name Maggie and I always thought it was short for Margaret. It wasn't until after her death and I visited her grave I discovered her real name. They are both buried in a church cemetery north of Strafford, Missouri on highway 125, just south of Fair Grove.
James Glenn Campbell was born July 24, 1931 and died August 13, 1978. Dad commented once about his middle name being Glenn. Both of his Grandfathers had the name James Franklin, Campbell and West. He was the fifth of seven children. His brothers and sisters in order are Virginia McNabb, Ailene Gray, Donald Campbell, Ronald Campbell, my Dad, Wilma Bumgarner and Barbara Westerhouse. My own children would know more about Uncle Don since he is the father of my cousin Mike. Mike and his family would come through Missouri on their way from South Dakota to visit his mom, Aunt Colean in Georgia. I think on some occassions Grandma Campbell got to be around Jennifer and Susan attended a family reunion back in 2001. Of the brothers and sisters only Aunt Virginia, Aunt Ailene and Aunt "Bobby" are still alive.
My Grandparents lived on a farm about 5 miles north of Strafford. It is the only place I knew them to live even though Dad commented they had lived in every house in Strafford. When I was a young child we lived in Springfield and Sunday afternoons were spent at the farm along with any aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. who came to visit. Grandma held court in the kitchen fixing sunday dinners that stir wonderful memories of home cooking; fried chicken, corn-on-the- cob, okra, tomatoes, rolls, blackberry cobbler and sweet tea. Grandpa always cut his corn off the cob and mixed it with sorghum and butter. After dinner cousins would play outside, men would sit under the tree, (Grandpa talked about swapping knives) and the women would clean up in the kitchen. Memories of the farm bring to mind the story of Daisy and Dolly. Daisy and Dolly were Grandpa's team of horses. Daisy was a white, almost gray horse and Dolly was black. Grandpa would always check on them while we were there. He would stand at the gate of the farm pasture and call them up. "Whooop Da-zee! Whooop Dol-lee!" Many times they were at the far end of the pasture or even in the "back-forty". His voice would resonate through the woods and in no time at all his team of horses would slowly work their way toward the barn and Grandpa. He would sometimes brush them, maybe feed them something special and tend to any scars they might have as a result of the harness rubbing their coats. Many times my cousins and I would try to imitate Grandpa's voice but the horses never paid any attention to us.
Over time Grandpa eventually traded Daisy and Dolly for a team of mules. They didn't have specific names but Grandpa would still call them up hollering "Whuuuup Mules!" Grandpa was proud of his horses and proud of his mules. I don't recall seeing him work with them that much since we were mainly around on Sunday, but he did hitch up the mules one time to take us grandchildren for a wagon ride.
When Grandpa died in 1975 Grandma had to get rid of the mules. There was no way she could take care of them. I remember Dad telling me how much it hurt Grandma and that she cried a lot when the mules were taken away. It seems those mules had been Grandpa's prize posession. -30-