For me it was a privilege to meet with Wilbur and Arlene Harrison. They were the type of people who greet you in their home and on the ranch, making you feel part of your family. Knowing them, I valued my life more.
Despite the chances of living through a dust collector and the Great Depression, they survived in many trials and struggles with life. Although they were not rich in monetary terms, they were rich in many areas of their lives. Harrison were extremely proud, loving, Christian people. It was a great honor for me to know them.
I often visited them on a ranch in northwestern Oklahoma in the late 1990s. I was there on a dry, windy day in early spring, when local television and country radio stations continuously interrupted broadcasts with warnings of strong wind and extreme fire danger. It was the day that Wilbur Harrison almost set the world on fire.
I spent the morning in the nearby town of Woodward, and when I returned to the ranch going north on Highway 50 to Liberty, I saw dark black smoke billowing high in the sky. Coming to Harrison's ranch, I saw a suitable cause of billowing smoke. Wilbur, a ninety-year-old, hard of hearing, partly blind farmer, identified his driving mower along a dirt road leading to his ranch. As he strove, he lit the prairie grass, never looking back to see the damage it had caused.
Shouting: “This is crazy!” I tried to call my son Henry on my mobile phone to warn him about the situation. When I could not contact him, I called the fire department. Feeling helpless, I watched the destruction that the old man caused him with a torch.
Moving slowly to his ranch, Wilbur continued to light a fire. The field of wheat that surrounded its area was ablaze; after it, power and telephone poles fell. The site looked like a war zone. Wilbur recently refused to drive because of his poor vision, and he decided to use his lawnmower to get around the ranch. He was not aware of the horrendous destruction caused by fire as he drove past the lawnmower at the ranch. He continued to light a fire, not looking behind him, apparently believing that he was doing something useful to help on the farm.
I was relieved to hear the sirens, and I saw the fire trucks coming down to the stage. Wilbur looked confused and shocked when firefighters approached him, shouting at him to stop lighting the lights.
A few weeks later, the old man received bills from the telephone and energy companies asking him to pay for the replacement of his burned pillars.
On the day when Wilbur Harrison held the keys to the car and stopped the movement, it was a painful opening day for him. He spent the day driving through his farm fields, making sure that the tractors rolled and that the cleaning was done. When he drove along a dirt road to a wheat field, he ran straight into the back of the truck stopped on the roadway. He was not physically injured in an accident, but this incident suffered greatly from Wilber’s pride. That evening, he was defeated when he handed over the keys to his son to his son, saying, "I need to go." His gaze failed him for a while. He had limited vision from the corners of his eyes, but he saw nothing. Wilbur was clearly heart-rending for him to give up his keys on the truck and his independence.
In the days following the truck incident, he warned his wife Arlene to take him across the ranch. An elderly couple took daily evening receptions to see the progress made at the new oil well, drilled in the past across the road from their ranch. They were both excited, like children, about the oil and gas wells being mined on their land, apparently eagerly awaiting the financial benefits they expected from the wells.
Although Wilbur was not a rich man, he had an extremely generous side. He writes checks to his children, grandchildren and his future children for their birthdays and Christmas. They all came, especially at Christmas, to collect money. Although foster children rarely visited the ranch at any time except Christmas, they apparently worshiped Wilbur and Arlene. The couple raised their four children and several adopted children to a meager farm income. Wilbur or Arlene loved them all equally. It was.
Before Arlene became incredibly ill with Alzheimer's, she and Wilbur sat together on warm summer evenings on the dusty old wooden swing on the front porch of their ranch house. Holding hands, they loved each other very much and were content with their fate in life.
On rare occasions, a car or a pickup truck pulled their way onto a ranch; Arlene, who was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease by that time, served as Wilber's eyes. He asks, “Mom, who is this?” And, if she knew, Arlene would have said who was there and what was going on. She was his eyes and by the end, he was her brain. They have worked well together, inseparable in recent years.
Arlene was a beautiful, strong farm woman before her ugly disease completely took over her body and soul. As her illness progressed, she became accustomed to collecting things, insisting that they belong to her. She takes and carries away everything she could put in her pockets, unaware that what she was doing was wrong.
Arlene was alone. When folk people were in the fields or otherwise left for the day, she wandered aimlessly around the farm. Her favorite hobby was collecting sticks that fell from broken trees to use for firewood.
At the beginning of one spring day, the elderly Arlena sets off to freedom in her old Taurus telescope. Along the road to the city, she stumbled upon the hitchhiker who marked her. She stopped the car to pick up the rude guy, asking, "Where are you going?" He said: "I need to get to Kansas." Without thinking, Arlene pulled him thirty-five miles to Kansas. When she arrived in Kansas and hitchhiked, she called home from the phone to pay to tell Wilbur what she did and that she returned home. Soon after this incident, the family decided that it was not safe for Arlene to ride anymore; they started hiding car keys.
One day, when Henry returned to the ranch from a trip to a feed store in Liberty, he found that Arlene was alone in the bullpen with a few bulls. She tapped each of them on the nose with the switch she held in her hand. God must have watched Arlene that day because the bulls did not detect her threat, allowing her to leave the pen without charging her. She realized that she had problems when she heard her anxious son shout: “Get out of here!” As he ran to her rescue. Arlene calmly left, muttering to herself These damned things won't get out of here!
Early in the morning, male people went to the ranch, asking me to watch Arlene and be sure that she would not let her drive. Shortly thereafter, Wilbur called from a wheat field, saying, "Drive a red truck and meet me in the field of wood." He explained: “There are two gas cylinders in the truck: one is next to the empty one and the other is filled with gas. I tried to follow his instructions, but I was not sure if I switched to a full gas tank. Having finished switching gas cylinders, Arlene came up behind me and asked: “What are you doing? Where are you going with the truck?
Arlene insisted she ride when I explained that I was taking a shovel to Wilbur to the fields. About five miles down the road, a truck on the farm ran out of gas. Arlene was upset, and I tried in vain to calm her down. "Wait here in the truck, and I'll be back at the ranch to get some gas." At the eighty-year-old Arlenka, none of them would insist that she go with me.
Just as I thought to tie a stubborn old woman to the steering wheel and lock her in a pickup, a friendly neighbor and his pretty sons were busy. Jed asked: “What are you two up to?” And I explained that we ran out of gas. He suggested: “I have five gallons here in my truck. It’s more than enough gas to get you back to the ranch. ”
The son of Jed, whom he called Bubba, praised the gas in the tank. Thanking them for their help, I started the old truck, turning it around to return to the ranch. Arlene got angry and shouted: “I want to see Wilber, we need to find him! I slap your miserable ass! We will not return to the ranch! Find my husband! ”I tried to calm down, but I realized that she had lost her coolness. Although Arlene was eighty years old, she seemed as strong as a bull. Although fried, ignoring the threat of Arlene, I return to the ranch.
Standing in front of the red farm in front of the old farm, I rushed to run for the safety of the ranch. Realizing that Arlene was running towards Taurus, I quickly moved and was two steps ahead, opening the door and pulling out the keys, I ran to the run to the cot. Arlene was right behind me, switched in her hand, cursed, and insisted that I throw off the keys. When I escaped from the hill to the bunk, Arlene was there. When I got to the cot, I opened the door and jumped inside. Slamming the door behind me, I locked it and quickly dumped it on the windows.
Arlene acted like a crazy cow, cursing and screaming as she knocked on the bunk door. Picking up the phone, I tried to call Wilbur, but he did not answer. Thinking up to look after and wait, I tried not to give Arlene any indication that I was in bed. Knowing that she saw me there. I walked around the kitchen as quietly as a mouse, walking on tiptoes, trying not to make a sound. That day I found out that the last person I wanted to annoy was Arlene Harrison. Her son was right when he said: “Beware of the mother, she has character. Don't embarrass her. ”
It seemed an hour had passed before Arlene tried to sneak into the bunk. I felt relieved when I saw her climb the stairs and enter the house. I spent the rest of the day chained to my bed, and the doors were locked, holding the TV low, and the light went out, fearing that Arlene would return with ammunition. Such was life on Freedom Ranch.
Sometimes I see Arlene going up and down the stairs from the ranch house to the bunk several times a day. If the door to the bunk room were locked, she knocked on the door and looked into the windows, shouting, “Are you there? Let me in! Who's there? What are you doing there? ”When Arlene noticed that someone was entering the bed, she was running down the stairs through the front door right behind him. It turned out that her actions were a direct result of her worsening illness.
Alzheimer's quickly destroyed Arlene’s life, eventually forcing her to stay in a nursing home in Moureland, Oklahoma. She had existed there for several years, and although she received the necessary help in the house, she had absolutely no life, the missing farm and her family. The beautiful life of Arlene, known as the farmer's wife, is gone forever.
Despite this circumstance, it took Arlene a very long time to lose his manner. She could not escape from the nursing home, having penetrated any door that was left open. She can be found wandering around the lawn outside, not confusing the nurses to find out exactly how she came out. Arlene got the pleasure of not letting them into the secret. She walks through the corridors, sometimes creeps into the old man's room to carry a piece of chocolate. It became a game between them: she crept in and he shouted at her loudly to get out.
During a visit with Arlene to a nursing home, I was grabbed and held in my hand by Rusty, a mentally disabled patient attached to a wheelchair. He held my legs, loudly confessing his love for me and begging me not to leave him. Nurses pulled out their grip. It was painful to hear his desperate cries for help. My heart broke me, that I could not do anything to stop the suffering and misery that prevailed in the nursing home. Growing up wanted my attention, and I was torn between taking care of Arlene when I was there and trying to make Growth happy.
I was very sad that many other residents of the nursing home never had visitors. After each visit, I think it's not very fun to grow old. These poor people who really care whether they live or die. Thanks to Jesus for a sound mind and good health! I realized that I would rather be dead than stay alive when my mind and body stopped serving me.
Only by God's will Arlen managed to stay a few years after she was seconded to the house. By the time she passed away, she would become a vegetable, not knowing where she was or who she was with her. She lost the ability to speak, and only the sounds you heard from her were low grunting. She was supported by needles and tubes in her arms. In her once beautiful blue eyes there is no life left.
When I am, I sometimes notice bruises and cuts on Arlene's limbs. I was very worried that she could not tell anyone what had happened. When I asked the nurses, they said that Arlene fell out of bed or fell out of her chair. I suspected an insult, but I could never prove it.
Arlene’s funeral was held at the Liberty Christian Church, worthy of a funeral for a wonderful, strong-willed Christian woman. It was a huge funeral, when many people testified and expressed the love they felt for her. Everyone in the church loved her. There were no unfriendly words about Arlene Harrison. She had many friends who recognized that the world had lost an amazing woman.
She spent most of her childhood growing up in oil labor camps in Oklahoma, never knowing a stranger. It didn’t matter to her, and Wilbur shared some little food with complete strangers. On the day the horse dealer stopped at the ranch to engage in horse trade, Arlene invited him to dinner. The cowboy was grateful for the hot food that continued to praise Arlene for her good cooking. Wilbur suggested that the stranger was flirting with Arlene, and he did not like it. Before the stranger could finish the meal, the jealous Wilbur pushed him away, screaming from the porch, you are getting out of here! I do not have horses to sell you. Take a saddle and pull your skinny ass out of my property! “As soon as the drifter went down the road, Wilbur returned to the dinner table, grabbed a fork and nodded to his frightened children, as if to say Everything is fine! Now, let me! "
Although it was a blessing that she no longer suffered, the whole family had a terrible time associated with the death of Arlene, especially her husband, Wilber.
Arlene’s funeral made me wonder what my own funeral would be. I doubted that there would be such a massive turnout or that such great testimony would tell about my life. It made me remember my own mother, who passed away in the early seventies; and I said a little prayer for great women Can you always Rip!
