This is part 2 of a set of posts. If you haven’t read Part 1, I recommend you click the link and read that post from yesterday. I wrote this set of blog posts at the end of Family History Writing Month (February). I’m in the middle of edits on a novel and I’m feeling creative. Today’s post was written because I wanted to see what this story would be like if it were in a novel. This story isn’t highly edited, in fact, it’s hardly edited at all so there will be errors. It is what it is. In regard to sources used for the story, I looked at the newspaper article from yesterday, my dad’s memory of the event, and I looked up the weather for 7 November 1960 (the date of the incident) on Extreme Weather Watch. I was limited in weather station choices for that date. I chose to use the weather for Tulsa, Oklahoma as it would have been similar enough. The weather for Tulsa on 7 November 1960 included a low of 30 and a high of 53 degrees and no precipitation.

In the event you didn’t read the post from yesterday, this is a retelling of a story about my 2nd great grandfather, Ervin “Poppy Lon” DRAKE. I’ve written about him before and those stories are linked in yesterday’s post. Since today’s post includes references to CJ DRAKE, the grandson of Poppy, I’ll include links to posts about CJ below.

One of the Tenderest Tough Women I Ever Knew

Charles Junior “C.J.” Drake, a Follow-Up

Case #13218, Carle Burleson, b/n/f/ vs. William J. Drake, et al: Update on the Death of C.J. Drake

Yesterday I posted a bonus picture of Poppy. Today I’m posting the record of his charter membership at Poynor Baptist Church in Delaware County, Oklahoma. Poppy loved going to Poynor Church.

Please remember the story below is BASED ON facts but I’ve filled in with pure imagination to make it more like a novel. Enjoy.

Poppy’s in Danger

It was a cold Monday morning on 7 November 1960. Poppy shivered, despite his denim coat and the layers of clothes he wore under his overalls. He grabbed 3 sticks of wood, bundled them in his arms, and headed back into the house to build up the fire that had waned overnight. His back hurt and his knees would barely lift him up the stairs this morning. Below freezing was no temperature for an old man. Poppy’s thoughts drifted to his recent birthday – number 85 for him. The family had thrown him a birthday party and he’d been happy to oblige. Some folk didn’t get to live as long as him. They’d buried his 18-year-old grandson five years prior, just before Christmas. That was a tough year. CJ was a good boy. Poppy said a prayer for CJ even though he knew prayers wouldn’t do the boy any good now he was gone and buried.

He shut the door with his foot, put the wood on the fire, and looked out the window. The weather was still good enough to be outside some days. It was on the cold side, but no snow or rain or ice yet. He poured himself a cup of coffee. As he was pouring, he sent a quick thank-you prayer for his great-grandson Roy who had hauled up fresh water from the spring just the day before. Fresh water made the best coffee and he was thankful for it! Poppy grabbed his coffee cup and went outside, despite the cold. His porch rocker was his favorite place on days with decent enough weather. His eyes were too poor to read his Bible but he could sit and converse with God while he rocked. He missed going to church at Poynor on Sundays but his health just wasn’t good enough for him to get out anymore. Poppy sipped on the coffee and it helped keep him warm while the world woke up. He loved a good morning like this. The smoke from fireplaces around the valley hung low in the trees and the smoky scent was comforting. Poppy dozed off for awhile.

When Poppy woke with a start, he wasn’t sure what had woken him. He looked around and saw nothing out of place. He tore off a piece of tobacco from the twist and put it in his mouth. When he looked up again there was a feral hog in the yard. He hollered at it. It stared back at him, unflinching. Poppy pondered what to do next. Finally he hauled his frame out of the rocker and stood. He straightened up as best he could and threw his arms out to make himself look bigger. He hollered and waved and ordered the feral boar to go away. It did not. Instead, it picked up an acorn off the ground and chewed on it slowly, pondering what he should do with Poppy. Flustered, Poppy had another go at the hog. Unflustered, the hog stared at him coolly. The boar wandered to a different spot and continued eating. “Well ain’t you a dandy,” mumbled Poppy. He stepped off the porch and got closer to the hog. He made himself big again and yelled louder. The hog was unaffected and wandered into the barnyard. “Now, you can’t go in there! You stop!” Poppy picked up the pace but couldn’t block the hog from the barnyard. The hog turned toward Poppy. Poppy made himself big and loud again. Before Poppy stopped yelling, the hog was on him. Its tusk gored Poppy’s leg and knocked him over. The hog gored him again and then bit him. Poppy’s breath was short and fast. His heart was racing, as were his thoughts. The hog stabbed him again and Poppy screamed. He felt the tusk pull out of his leg and it was followed by sharp teeth biting into his thigh. He instinctively rolled over to protect his thigh and the hog took a chunk of flesh out of Poppy’s back side. He started to grab his buttock but thought better of it, thinking it might behoove him to keep his fingers for another day or two. Poppy kicked at the hog but the boar kept coming at him. He rolled on his stomach again and his hand slammed against a rock. “A rock,” thought Poppy, “I need that.”

As the boar dug in for another bite of his leg, Poppy’s fingers were busy digging the rock out of the dirt. He rolled over using all his body weight to propel himself and swung the rock as he rolled. The rock hit the board square in the eye and it staggered. Poppy bashed its head again and it backed away. By then it was too far away to reach so Poppy threw the rock with all the strength he had left and smashed the boar in the forehead. The boar turned and ran into the woods. Poppy’s body shook, as much from cold as from the shock of the attack. He fell back to the ground and passed out.

The End

That’s all I’m writing for today. I hope you enjoyed the more creative version of the story. Just realize, it’s a fictionalized account and not what really happened – at least not that I know of. Have a great weekend!

Until next time,

Lisa @ Days of Our Lives blog

Resources Used in Crafting the Fictional Version of this story:

“The Local Scene,” (Miami News-Record, Miami, Oklahoma), 9 Nov 1960, local news article; Newspapers, https://www.newspapers.com/ : accessed 26 Feb 2024, page 7, col 1.

Drake, Roy. Interview. By Lisa Williams, 26 Feb 2024.

Poynor Baptist Church Membership Roll book. Recorded in 1952. Privately held collection.