A Memorial to My Father

1913 - 1972

Marcus Rogers was born in Wade, Oklahoma, his mother Minnie a Choctaw, and his father white. He was raised by his mother and/or his grandmother Lucinda, part of the time; he, and his sister Lucille.

Grandmother Lucinda was Choctaw, and she taught him "the old ways." Born in 1875 and raised by her maiden aunt, Lucinda had learned all of them, but when her husband forbid her to speak Choctaw, she complied, and never spoke it again, so Marcus did not learn to speak his native tongue.

Marcus grew up in Oklahoma, and when he was 25 he met and married Dora Frances McClure, my mother, sometime in 1936. Two years later I was born, and two years afterward, my sister was born, and again two years later, my brother followed. During those six years, however, what had been a wonderfully happy marriage in the beginning had gone wrong. I believe, from what I know now of him, that my father and mother were very different, and that, in addition to many other problems, sealed the fate of their marriage.

My mother was very bitter, and prone to carry a grudge forever. So, when our father or grandfather sent something to us my mother sent it back, saying she did not want anything from them. And she moved several times, until they could no longer find her, or us. I was four years old when they divorced, and I never saw my father again, so I do not remember him. My mother deeply regretted her actions late in her life, but could not change them then, since my father, grandfather, and all the others had already died.

He remained a shadow in my background who never grew older than the few photos I have of him taken in his twenties. My mother would not talk of him, so he had no personality... no likes, no dislikes, no hobbies, no hopes and dreams. I could only wonder... Had he loved me? Why had he never found me? Did he love me still, and would I ever see him?

Once I was an adult, I began trying to gather information to locate him myself. I immediately ran into a problem that was to stop me cold from then on. I did not have his birth date, and my mother could not remember what it was. Because my birth certificate had been copied on the slope of a large book, I could not even see where he had been born. Eventually I was able to get a certified copy that told me it was Wade, Oklahoma, and that he said he was 25. However, when I contacted vital records there, I was told that I must have the exact birth date or they would not look for it. This was upsetting, for how many children of his name could have been born in Wade, OK, ever?

After my children left home I was working very long hours, but about eight years ago I sold my partnership in a business and took six months off before going back to work. One of the things I wanted to do was to find my father.

This time I did find him, or at least I found out that he had died in 1972, and felt very saddened, for now I would never know him; never find the answers to the questions I'd had, and never know what he was like. I continued hunting because I knew he'd remarried and had a second family. I was unsuccessful in finding them from the remote location I was in. At that time there was not a lot to be found on the internet.

Then, in the summer of 2001 I quit working and I put a family page on my website shortly after, with my father at the beginning. In January of 2002, my brother Reggie discovered it, and me; and I came to know my "other" family; Reggie and Charlotte, and my cousin Bobbe. There are children, of course, and I have been in contact with two of them. I'm looking forward to hearing from more.

Charlotte has filled an empty place in my life, and is a warm and loving sister. And, it seems that we are the exact same height, same coloring, and both were very thin when we were young. She has been a blessing.

Reggie was the oldest child and a boy, so he knew his father best, and was very close to him. Our father was living with Reggie when he died at the young age of 59. Reggie is not only loving, he is articulate, and he works nights off and on. When he does, he has more time, and sends email when he can, talking about everything. But when he can remember something else about our father, he tells me about it in a very open and caring way, so that I find that my father now has shape. He has a personality, morals, likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams.

Probably the nicest thing that Reggie has said is this: "Our father never forgot you, and never stopped loving you. He talked about all of you often, and somehow he had managed to hang onto a small, ragtag photo of the three of you in the back of a truck, and he carried it in his wallet always. And he never stopped hunting for you. He always loved and missed you."

To someone who never had a father, and who searched for him always... who was now learning about him, and just finally truly learning of all that she had missed by not having him, this was just about the most comforting thing he could have said, and I know all of us will always be very grateful to have that message.

Just recently Reggie told me about our father's funeral and where he is buried. Here is what he said:

"I went to visit daddy's gravesite on my trip, and took photos. Daddy told me that he didn't want a headstone or marker, but as time goes on I'm having a harder time complying with that request. He said the old way was to not speak of the past people and not identify or mark their resting place and that was what he wanted. But I'm the only one who knows where he is. While I was there, I told him about you.

When he died, he had no money saved up and I was living from hand to mouth. He had no insurance, property, or estate. I used his Social Security money to provide for a service in the chapel of the funeral home that took care of the burials for the County. The Pastor that married me and Sarah spoke for him.

Momma and Charlotte came from Orange, Ricky came down from Houston, Aunt Lucille came from California, and of course, me and Sarah were here. The county was using a small area west of the old Nueces-town Cemetery at the time. Old Nueces-town was settled in about 1860 - 1870 about 15 - 20 miles west of Corpus Christi up the Nueces River (Nueces = Pecan in Spanish) and was instrumental in settling the area by providing a safe haven from raiders and outlaws from Mexico, Comanche Indians, and Confederate veterans who came home after the war to find that they had lost everything to Yankee Carpetbaggers.

Most of the early settlers that he is resting with, that had stone headstones, were buried from 1872 to 1915. The Cemetery was not used for years until the early 1970's when the County used it until about 1980. It is small (5 acres, maybe) and is located on top of a hill overlooking the Nueces River valley. Not as pretty as it sounds because it is a hard country. The oak and mesquite brush grows so hard and thick it blocks the wind. The sun beats down, drying out the
ground so that the ants burrow deep, seeking relief. Everything has stickers, fangs, horns, or teeth. But this is the kind of place that he would have chosen because it wasn't easy. He could never do the easy thing."

The Old Nueces Cemetery, where our daddy rests

Reggie took these photos and more with his new camera while he and Jill, his wife, were on a recent trip. He also included one of himself, that I assume Jill took.. They are both doing very well with their new camera.

I guess I probably don't look a whole lot like Reggie, but that chin is very familiar.

I think I see that one in the mirror each morning.

It is sad to think that I lived on this earth all those years and did not know my father all that time. I am an inquisitive person, and I have tons of questions I still want answers to. But, I have also learned to be patient, and to wait on the Lord, for His will and in His time. I can only hope and pray that when I reach heaven he will be there to greet me. It is strange, but I feel an affinity for this man whom I have never known, and I hope that somehow he knows that.

I am putting this page up so that the entire family will be able to share in what we know about his life and death. I hope it comforts them as it has comforted me.

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