Yesterday I wrote about a story my mother told me concerning the Latty family and World War I. This period in history has always fascinated me. Looking back at it, times then seemed to be more innocent, less hectic, more straight forward and a lot less crowded. Tahlequah, Oklahoma was small and had dirt streets. Farmers came to town in horse-drawn wagons and it was an all-day event. Families brought lunches and drove their wagons to the spring on the north side of town to eat their noon meal where they would have water to drink. I like to think of those days.
Of course, I don’t like to think about the turmoil and loss of World War I nor of the flu epidemic that raged nor of the drought that hit about that time and the hardship it caused. People then had their troubles and heartaches, their hopes and dreams just as we do. They didn’t realize they were living in simpler, more innocent days because they didn’t have these future years as a comparison.
It is no wonder, I guess, that when Barbara and I were writing our third Darcy/Flora book, a glimpse of World War I crept into the story. Darcy and Flora were caught up in a problem that seemed to have its roots in 1918 and I wove a bit of history into the solution of the problem.
The thing is, I’m fascinated by history. Doing research about past events makes me feel as if I am there; transported back 80 or 100 years. I feel the warmth of that farm kitchen at Etta and smell wood smoke from the stove. I hear the rooster crow in the chicken yard and smell coffee as Ma Latty fixes breakfast. And I see my grandpa, milk buckets in hand, head out the door and down the hill toward the barn in the grayness of early morning.
But then I look out my front window at my sleeping town and realize I like this quiet street and the friendly neighbors. I enjoy being near my son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Church on Sundays is a blessing and it’s only 5 minutes away. I don’t have to hitch a team to a wagon to get there. And any time I want, I can sit down at my computer’s keyboard and take a trip back in time to see, hear, smell and feel those past events. Writers and readers of books have a unique joy: the privilege of living in two fascinating worlds.
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