Yeah, I grew up in Houston. What a hot, humid mess it was. We didn’t have the luxury of a sea breeze. When I married a career Army aviator and we would change duty stations, I would always ask someone from that duty station about the weather there. If they said it was humid, I would always ask, “Houston humid?” If they just stared at me,…
Yeah, I grew up in Houston. What a hot, humid mess it was. We didn’t have the luxury of a sea breeze. When I married a career Army aviator and we would change duty stations, I would always ask someone from that duty station about the weather there. If they said it was humid, I would always ask, “Houston humid?” If they just stared at me, I knew they had never experienced Houston humidity. You’ll never sit in a steam sauna (or understand why others do) if you’ve spent any time in Houston. Also spent 4 years stationed at Fort Hood in the late 90s. I just looked up the historical summer data for nearby Waco for July 1998, and it was 100+ for 28 days that year. Whew! Just roasting! Don’t miss it!
This is why Texas and Florida pioneers were the toughest of the tough. No AC, earliest days no real windows or screens to keep the bugs out. Rattle snakes, water moccasins, gators (in Florida anyway), panthers, wild cats, bears…those were some strong people. And I’m proud to be a descendant from both places.
My paternal grandpa (I never saw him-he would have been 90 something by the time I was born) was the product of a short lived marriage.
Story was a widower from Texas decided to relocate to the Florida Panhandle with several children. He met and met a widow with several children, my great grandmother. It didn’t work out because of apparently serious disputes between the children and the Texans went back to Texas. After that my grandpa was born. 1850s, I think. He never laid eyes on his pa and had to support himself and his widowed mother from an early age, as the siblings all drifted off. A very early age, working at a grist mill, grinding corn into meal and was largely paid in cornmeal. His mother tied rags onto his feet in the winter because he had no shoes. He never went to school and was illiterate.
At some point he received a letter with instructions from Texas saying the father had died and he was in the will. He didn’t go. It was too far to travel. Horse and buggy, stagecoach days.
He had landed a really good job supervising a turpentine still, destroying the virgin pines that covered north Florida, stretching from Pensacola in the west to Jacksonville in the east.
Nothing good had come thus far fro Texas and he saw no need to go. Who knows what would’ve been there?
Very interesting family history! My mom’s family came from west Texas. Her dad owned a horse and cattle ranch. They were all tough as nails. My dad came from a large family (he was one of 10 kids) of sharecroppers. He was 1/8 Cherokee. Mom and dad were raised to be resilient and taught us kids to be so as well. But I never learned to fry chicken or can vegetables--some skills I may wish I had learned if the apocalypse materializes soon. Haha!
Yeah, I grew up in Houston. What a hot, humid mess it was. We didn’t have the luxury of a sea breeze. When I married a career Army aviator and we would change duty stations, I would always ask someone from that duty station about the weather there. If they said it was humid, I would always ask, “Houston humid?” If they just stared at me, I knew they had never experienced Houston humidity. You’ll never sit in a steam sauna (or understand why others do) if you’ve spent any time in Houston. Also spent 4 years stationed at Fort Hood in the late 90s. I just looked up the historical summer data for nearby Waco for July 1998, and it was 100+ for 28 days that year. Whew! Just roasting! Don’t miss it!
This is why Texas and Florida pioneers were the toughest of the tough. No AC, earliest days no real windows or screens to keep the bugs out. Rattle snakes, water moccasins, gators (in Florida anyway), panthers, wild cats, bears…those were some strong people. And I’m proud to be a descendant from both places.
My paternal grandpa (I never saw him-he would have been 90 something by the time I was born) was the product of a short lived marriage.
Story was a widower from Texas decided to relocate to the Florida Panhandle with several children. He met and met a widow with several children, my great grandmother. It didn’t work out because of apparently serious disputes between the children and the Texans went back to Texas. After that my grandpa was born. 1850s, I think. He never laid eyes on his pa and had to support himself and his widowed mother from an early age, as the siblings all drifted off. A very early age, working at a grist mill, grinding corn into meal and was largely paid in cornmeal. His mother tied rags onto his feet in the winter because he had no shoes. He never went to school and was illiterate.
At some point he received a letter with instructions from Texas saying the father had died and he was in the will. He didn’t go. It was too far to travel. Horse and buggy, stagecoach days.
He had landed a really good job supervising a turpentine still, destroying the virgin pines that covered north Florida, stretching from Pensacola in the west to Jacksonville in the east.
Nothing good had come thus far fro Texas and he saw no need to go. Who knows what would’ve been there?
And married a widow. My grandpa was legitimate and carried his father’s name.
And we think we have it hard.
Very interesting family history! My mom’s family came from west Texas. Her dad owned a horse and cattle ranch. They were all tough as nails. My dad came from a large family (he was one of 10 kids) of sharecroppers. He was 1/8 Cherokee. Mom and dad were raised to be resilient and taught us kids to be so as well. But I never learned to fry chicken or can vegetables--some skills I may wish I had learned if the apocalypse materializes soon. Haha!
We have grit!
Yep! True Grit! Hahahaha! 😂