Trail of Tears

"That year I held and assisted in eight (revival) meetings, some of no small importance. In many of them I did most of the preaching. I traveled in the saddle many hundreds of miles. I was in the pulpit one Sunday morning when my father went to live with God. I was so far away and the news was slow coming, I did not know of his death until a number of days afterwards."

-Thrilling Experiences of Frontier Life in Western Oklahoma", by La Fayette Cassler

Last post I introduced the author, my great-great grandfather, an early homesteader and itinerant preacher who moved to Oklahoma in the 1890's to spread the word of God. My copy of his book was a gift to my grandmother, passed down to my mother and now me. Preparing for this trip inspired me to read the book. Cassler came to Oklahoma in the 1890's, just after it was opened for European settlement. Western Oklahoma was VERY remote -- no railroads, barely roads at all, no bridges, limited communication even between neighboring towns.

His book is full of stories of being cut off on the wrong side of a river and being stranded for days after a flood, facing a tornado, surviving smallpox -- all with a common theme -- having a strong faith in God, asking for God's help, trusting that the Lord would provide. Reading the book, I was struck by how "old-fashioned" that kind of faith is. Then I decided -- it was pretty old-fashioned even in 1895. It's really an Old Testament level of faith akin to Daniel going into the lions' den and trusting that the Lord would take care of him.

Brother Cassler also looked to the Lord for more mundane help. When everyone else in town failed at finding water, he asked the Lord to direct where he should dig a well, and the Lord provided water in his well. I am a person of faith, but have never thought it proper to ask for "that kind of help". Since reading the book, I've started doing so -- when faced with a "cloud out" on total eclipse day last month, I channeled Brother Cassler asking for God's permission to be able to enjoy the eclipse. This is what happened -- clouds parting just at the time of totality to be able to enjoy.

Today's ride was my attempt to channel and live the "life in the saddle" that he did -- traveling through the countryside of Western Oklahoma, his old stomping grounds, experiencing the land, the emptiness, imagining what his life on the road was like. I thought about him every time I took a bridge over a stream or creek (I lost count at 30) -- each one of those is taking the horse down the creek bank, fording the stream, making your way up the other side, hoping nothing goes wrong. I had weather radar to track the thunderstorms and could find cover for the two that I sat through -- he had nothing. I could arrange a lunch meeting point via cell phone with Sarah -- he had no idea for days that his father had died.

I found the countryside beautiful. I will confess, I came to Oklahoma expecting ugly, brown, dirt, boring. I've tried to give a sense of the landscape in the photos -- I started riding up through the Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge, a truly glorious experience, including the descendants of Quanah Parker's bison plus a large herd of "heirloom" longhorn cattle. Birds everywhere: Eastern Meadowlarks, Roadrunners, and the state bird of Oklahoma, the Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher (cover star on the Wingspan game, for you board gamers). I had a long ride north, including two section corrections, all of which took me towards Foss, OK -- where Brother Cassler homesteaded, and where he was laid to rest in 1933 at the age of 87.

Foss today is basically a ghost town -- its population peaked in the 1920s at 1,600, it's under 100 today. I was happy to see the cemetery is well-tended, and I was very happy to pay my respects to a man who lived a very authentic life.