Mable Gilbert ( listed in Texas Handbook Online ) among other first achievements in Texas history,
" was the first white settler in Wichita County. His daughter Hettie was the first white child born in Wichita County. He had 3 creeks, two springs, a post office and a town named in his honor in Texas."
So says the Texas Handbook. :-) Also, you can find Gilbert Creek ( not that it has any water in it during this drought) marked with a highway sign on the way to Burkburnett, about ten minutes north from here. Tech-geek connection: Town named for Samuel Burk Burnett, founder and proprietor of the famed 6666 Ranch, had a daughter who married the founder of the Tandy Corporation. As in Radio shack. Quarter horses and electronics. Smart family. :-)
A new generation of Gilbert has arrived in Texas. More than likely not related to Mr. Mable, unless his ancestors were also stowaways on a ship from Ireland, as were Jonathan's. HA ( As an aside I personally find it hilarious that each of our ancestral immigrants arrived here with little regard for the rules. Jon's as stowaways and mine running an illegal moonshine still. HA But I digress.)
Jonathan's youngest daughter pioneered her way here in early June, via Amtrak, taking in the sights along the way. Cemeteries along the railroad tracks, endless deserts in Arizona, checking for illegal aliens jumping the Rio in El Paso -- from a safe distance.
She's on a journey for sure. Jumped ship, so to speak, from a tight bundle of siblings who lived, ate, and thought together for 18 years, without much influence from the outside world. 15 or so of those years were without Jonathan's gentle, gentlemanly, geeky influence due to deployments (and detachments, not consciously or maliciously... but part of the rotten deal with custody grabs.)
We are also on a journey. New parents, so to speak, although we have nine adult children between us, because we have never been the parents of a teenage daughter together.
Jon raised her older sisters pretty much on his own while he was in the Air Force, due to her mother's chronic health issues, so he's no stranger to a gaggle of little girls and their assorted perceived catastrophes.
I had the triad of boys on my own, for the most part, but boys are like bear cubs. They wrestle and roll around on the floor roughhousing, indulge in flatulence no matter where they are, eat a lot and often, and sleep a lot and often. Boy cubs also indulge in movies that no momma bear should ever watch with them. HA.
My boys were adults or on the cusp of adulthood, as were all of her siblings save she and her twin brother, when God led me and Jonathan back to each other, so we didn't do any joint parenting.
Often I feel very much like I did as a new mother, not sleeping much, wondering if I'm doing everything I need to for the child, blasting myself when I make mistakes, not knowing what she likes to eat or what she needs when she cries.
Don't get me wrong, she's not a baby.
She's a brilliant young woman who has been described to me by one of her former elementary teachers as "the brightest student I ever had". Like her father she possesses great imaginative powers, a quirky sense of humor, and is also adorable. Like her father.:-)
I remember the first time I gave newborn Randall a bath. He had to have sponge baths until his little navel healed up properly, and so the day finally came at about two weeks of age, to take the plunge. HA
I was so nervous. I'd never cared for a tiny baby before, much less with hormones raging and sleep evading and praying to Jesus that the squalling slippery infant would not pop out of the little tubby and onto the floor.
I finally got him bathed and dressed and was rocking both of us to sleep in my rocking chair in his nursery, when his father arrived home for lunch and to check on us. I told him about our morning adventure. He asked me if I had introduced him to the water slowly, getting the baby used to the water and the temp and everything. (Having a sister twelve years younger can be an advantage in baby care. PPbbTTT. )
I'm still nervous. Nervous to damage this already fragile but brave soul forging out on her own, without her posse at hand to look out for her. Nervous that I won't say or do the right things. Nervous that the highly unsuccessful girl in me will transfer over to her, and I will create a clone of my monster self by imprinting. Dear God.
Dear God.
I'll pray that she lands on her daddy's side of "Gilbert Creek"... the side where practical calm rules the day, whimsical thought lightens the mood, and thoughtful, loving sense resides. Annie Oakley, the spirit guide in my world, probably oughta put up her horse for a while and sit for a bit in the the rocker. I don't want to sink in the soft sand of Gilbert Creek and pull our new daughter down with me whilst I ride rough. I want to hand her the reins when she's able so she can choose her own path, equipped with everything she needs to live a good life out here on the prairie. Like Mr. Mable did.
Think I'll sit in the rocker for a while linger before we saddle the horses again.
