Saturday, May 30, 2009

The County Farm was No Gitmo


During the early 1900’s and possibly as far back as the late 1800’s there was a farm established in East Texas that was called during my school days, The County Farm. It was located up in the Upper Eastern part of Smith County Texas. It was almost impossible to find. To get to the sprawling farm you had to get off highway 69 or County Road 2710 and then take blacktop, back roads to either the front or back gate. When I was in elementary school, our school bus cut right down the middle of the picturesque farm.

Nestled above the Sabine River, the farm had a large white ranch house, several small houses for the families of the hired hands, a vast orchard of huge pecan trees, large wide open meadows where the cattle and other livestock grazed, the meadows enclosed on all sides by the deep East Texas forest that the massive farm was cut out of. The ranch house was a part of the large cluster of buildings which included the afore mentioned hired hand houses, a long tractor barn, a huge barn and a two story square concrete cell block. That’s right, a cell block.

The cell block could hold, it appeared, up to 24 prisoners. The prisoners were county prisoners. Ordered to “hard” labor by county judges. Across a small ravine to the left of the cell block was an old hickory tree. Underneath that hickory tree was a small grave yard of men who died in that cell block and then were buried there.

I recently tried to research detailed information about the County Farm but could not find any information. The farm has been sold several times since those days for millions of dollars per each sale to rich people. The old ranch house has been torn down, replaced a few hundred yards on down the old county road that runs through the middle of the place with a new sprawling one story ranch style house. The farm recently was opened as a place for people to go dove and quail hunting if they called ahead and paid a fee to do so, as well as its own going function as a cattle ranch. The old county road that cuts through the middle of the County Farm has since been privatized and gates block both ends of the road.

One thing I do know. The prisoners there were required to work. Not lounge around in a jail house or jail yard. They worked from dawn to dusk. They provided their own food. They built the buildings, cleared the forests, and planted the pecan trees, and dug out the stock ponds and tended to the large number of livestock on that farm.

Now that is what I call rehabilitation.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Memorial Day in America



Have you ever looked, really looked, at a soldier's face? Sometimes it's young, barely
an adult the
hopes of youth still painted in its features. Sometimes it's old older
than faith, older than wisdom, older than time. And sometimes...sometimes it's a bit
of both all at once.
Sometimes it's gritty and pained, remembering the face of another who has fallen.
Sometimes it's laughing, pleased to have a moment of peace. Most of the time it's
proud because it knows, oh yes it knows, the world is a different place a
better
place because
of it.
Next time you look at a soldier's face, see if you can find that glint of pride.
Sometimes it’s hidden, and you have to search it out. You'll find it in the eyes always
in the eyes. For the eyes are indeed the windows to the soul, even a soldier's
soul.
And when you've carefully examined every feature of that soldier's face, stand up
straight and tall and smile your best smile. Thank that soldier, because it does what
some cannot or will not. It defends what it believes to be right with
it's very life.
But more important, it defends a perfect stranger you.
And when you see a flag covered casket, stand in memorium of all the soldier's faces
you've examined. For when one of them falls, they all fall. And when one of them
stands, they all stand.
Shouldn't we stand with them?
Lilian Leader
June 2, 2006