Dreams
July 12Th, 1998
Today is my mother, Mary Ann’s birthday. She seemed somewhat sad earlier on the telephone talking about a project she was working on and asked for my help. I obliged knowing it would be a futile effort this time as it had been for the past 10 years.She had been tied up working feverishly on Spindletop, Texas and her belief our family was the original owner of that land. Although we had been down the road to Spindletop many times in the past, I felt obligated to help her, to give her hope in her desolate life deep in the West Virginia mountains.
Mary Ann
Whether the Spindletop endeavor was a delusion or not, Mary Ann was my mother and not only did I know what she meant by stating she would have no reason to continue life, I knew that focus on Spindletop would create a kind of child in the house she so longed for, missed, and it would ultimately save her life. Nearly everyday I called her and talked about Spindletop and the information I had found in the libraries, Internet, and other sources. It kept her busy and that kept her alive.
There were three things that would fire up passion in my mother; Spindletop, talking about her paintings, and asking her to relive the story of her death when she was twelve years old. We had talked about Spindletop for months, then months became years, and for some reason, ...
