|TRI-CITIES, WA – June 22nd & 23rd
I may be a little prejudiced in my opinion, but I think the 2001
reunion was one of the best I’ve attended. The fun factor was high and
the weather was beautiful.
| skills with homemade rubber band rifles
- those plastic bottles didn’t stand a chance. Another outpost had us
roping a buffalo…okay it was only a barrel, but it was just as dangerous…really,
it was. In memory of our ancestors we had a Battle of the Bulls…and
faced off with a fierce range beast (okay, we actually just threw sock
balls into a hole cut in the shape of a bull’s head on the side of a
barrel). Then we braved the unknown territories, compass in hand just to
prove we could find our way out of a grove of trees (can three trees be a
grove?). And of course no pioneer trek would have been the same without
the “cow-pie” toss, which fortunately for those with delicate
sensibilities (as we’re sure many of our female ancestors had) were
carpet circles tossed into a basket. The final outpost was a Quilting Bee;
you needed to look at a small quilt (made by Patti Cazier) depicting
William and Pleasant's family and pioneer activities. You had to figure
out who was who on the quilt and then on a sheet of paper put them in
birth order. Click here for pictures
of the activities.
Once all the participants had taken a turn at every outpost, points were tallied up and the winning Company was awarded a watermelon. We were given a brief respite from the early afternoon heat after Eric Cazier made a road trip for Popsicles. Young and old alike could be observed enjoying this ice-cold treat. Following the morning activity families went off to spend the day together enjoying the sunshine of the
A drop of rain rolled down the crown of the helmet,
hesitated at the edge then slid along it towards the front where it met
another droplet, hesitated, merged and splashed into the thick, dark
jungle mud. The young soldier saw it all in his peripheral vision. He did
not miss much. He could not afford to. His life and the life of his
friends counted on it.
He thought of home, of the small log mud-chinked cabin in the swale where he had lived with his four brothers and six sisters. He thought of the long hard days that he and his family had spent eking out a living from the desert soil. They had survived the Great Depression. He was a Haws and a Haws does not waver, does not falter and does not surrender.
He was so premature at birth that the doctor didn’t give him much of a chance. But his Grandma Dodson said, “That baby is not going to die” and she put him in a shoebox and put it in the oven. He did not die then and he was not about to die now.
Vance Leroy Haws survived the military campaign in the Pacific and volunteered