Places from my childhood in Branson, Colorado, floated to my consciousness today. There are four places I loved: the store, the Community church, the jailhouse. I’m in Branson, visiting and took a walk today to a friend’s house. I passed the church and the jailhouse on the way. A smile crossed my lips as memories surfaced for each place.
On my return trip, I passed the foundation of the store. As I walked by, I marveled at the size of the foundation—as a child, the building looked so big. Today it looked so small! Memories overcame me! In my book, This Tumbleweed Landed, I wrote poems about each of these places. I’d like to share them with you!
Branson Community Church
The Branson Community Church small and quaint. People that touched my life Maynard Bowen, Walt Graham Ministers of God, who took the time for me. The Loudens The Gilstraps The Smiths The Warners The Cummins Mabel Survant Mrs. Jamieson Sunday School teachers and family friends who let me sit with them, singing my songs out loud when I couldn’t even read. Beautiful old hymns and singing. |
They loved me, taught me, and encouraged me. A safe place to be on Sunday morning, and a nice place to meet God. Youth group on Sunday night games and talking about God Youth group picnic and camp-outs at the Gilstraps and the annual Christmas programs. One year, at the Christmas program I was an angel with the other young girls. Donned in our white robes, wings, and haloes, we walked in a straight line carrying lit candles. The girl behind me got too close and caught my hair on fire! Our teacher quickly handled the situation, and I wasn’t burned. The program went on. |
The Jailhouse

A landmark That everyone wants to be pictured in. Close the door, stand behind the bars and smile. Two cells A window in each And also, a hard bed of concrete in each. Numerous stories about notorious criminals who slept there and broke out! A special place for us! Scott Warner would steal cigarettes from his mom. Bub and I would break a piece of the salt lick stored in Grandad Horner’s garage. It was for our cattle. We would meet at the jail. Smoke then suck on the salt lick to hide the smell of the cigarette smoke. I felt so sophisticated. So grown-up, So fashionable. Smoking! Like Dad Clara and Millard Reu Uncle Gay and Aunt Helen But I never liked The taste of it. Years later Bub and I told Mom About our clandestine adventure. She said she knew what we were doing. She teasingly said, “The smoke billowed out of the jail’s window.” But she never questioned us Or Disciplined us. A growing up safe adventure! |
The Store
Dust, hard wood floor; aisles of adventure. Goods for sale— Eggs, milk, and beef; all the regular staples of life. The McMillans owned it— Roy and Mokey. Oversized paintings on the walls— a gold miner, wild animals images long forgotten; painted by Julian Hancock. But my favorite part the candy! A big wooden display case, taller than me. Glistening glass windows separated me from the mouth-watering delights.So big, so wonderful. So many colors, sizes, shapes, and designs. I had a quarter— I could buy the moon!
My walk awakened memories of these three places—they flooded me with Candy’s laughter at the store, Scott and the adventures of cigarettes in the jail, and so many people who loved me in that beautiful quaint little church.
Do you have childhood memories of special places? Share them in the comment section.
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~Here’s a variety of Christmas greetings from Flippo & Neeca, featuring his song, “When It’s Christmas Time in Texas”: https://youtu.be/mpJCUGffU3A
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Loved your poems of the same three places that bring many happy memories back to me! My dad used to tell us stories of the jail as well! What a wonderful community to grow up in! Thanks for sharing!
Thanks so much. I so appreciate your response. Yeah, our dads had great stories! I wish I had written some of them down. Hope you are well!