Carl James Cook-Life Sketch Part 4

Remembrances of Carl James Cook

by his son, Rick

1909-1966

The first recollection I have of my father, Carl James Cook, is of me watching him hitch up our two work horses, Pat and Bolly. I used to run behind when he would harrow the fields. I remember his big step to the little Ford tractor. I'm sure dad was proud and

a 1ittle scared about that major change in farming. But one thing I'm sure of was that Dad was the best farmer around. He would always raise the most bushels per acre or the most spuds per acre. I remember when we took our lambs to the auction, the buyers would always like dad's fat lambs and he would get the highest price.

Dad always loved horses, even though a tractor replaced them. I remember one day when he rode into the yard on a white horse. This horse (we named him Whitey), was quite spirited and had to be rebroke every time we wanted to ride him. One time I was bucked off and dad was so mad he got on Whitey and with a 2 x 4, he rebroke him. Of course, I still was bucked off several more times after that. Dad loved to ride and spent a lot of time riding in the Coltman Posse. They would perform at the 4th of July celebration each year.

I remember Dad as a very hard working man. We milked cows,

usually five or six, and raised sheep, usually around 75 to 100 ewes and two or three bucks. I remember one time Dad was feeding the sheep, packing a bale of hay into the corral when our old mean Suffolk buck butted him full speed right in the butt knocking dad flat on the ground. 

Now dad had a temper when he got hurt or something broke, this time

he was really mad, so the buck got called all kinds of names and dad found a steel post and knocked that poor sheep to his knees.

Dad taught me responsibility. I had a lot of chores to do and he expected me to do them right. I was always rewarded for my work as I had cows and sheep of my own and Dad paid for the feed. I usually had stock in the Future Farmers of America Fat Stock Show and Sale. Dad helped me a lot and was proud of my trophies and awards. One time I got my picture in the paper and dad was real proud of that.

Dad liked to go fishing and hunting. Because of the farm work and the cows, he never got to go as often as he would like, but I remember good times at Medicine Lodge and Birch Creek. We used to go up to a ranch in Medicine Lodge belonging to Clifton May. He would buy hay from Dad in the winter and Dad would feed his cattle on the Jefferson County place.

We needed a Holstein bull, so one day we went to see Bob Jephson about one. While we were there, we heard a fire engine screaming down the Lewisville Highway. I remember standing on top of Bob's potato cellar watching it go. We all wondered where the fire was. Anyway Dad bought the bull and we loaded him into the old 48 Ford pickup. That Bull didn't want to be there. Half way home he got his front feet on top of the cab of the pickup. His head was tied down between his legs.  We had a hard time getting him free and we had to stop several times on the way home. Just before we got home, we could see where the  fire truck had gone -- our barn. I guess Loralee and Janae were home and it scared them to death. This Bull turned out to be a big problem the whole time we had him. In the fall of 1965 he knocked dad down in the pasture and almost killed him.

Dad never quite recovered from his bull and haystack accidents, and he started having heart problems again, but was taking heart pills and getting along quite well when we started building our new spud cellar.  I remember how proud he was of his new cellar but never got to put a spud in it.

On September 21, 1966, on Rulan's birthday, he died of a heart

attack while standing in his new spud cellar. I remember the call, I received from Milburn Hix while attending Rick's College. He said Dad had a problem and that I had better get home. On the way home I knew my Dad had passed away. I loved my Dad very much. I admired and respected him a great deal. He taught me right from wrong and was very proud of all of us.