I've been very touched by a series of messages from the descendents of Dewey Whitwell -- Christian, Scott and Wanda Bradford -- who saw my post about him and contacted me (See comments under "On Dewey Whitwell's Knee" below.} It's remarkable that through the Internet we have been able to tell these stories in honor of this man who touched many lives.
I was most excited by the post that began "I am your Missy" -- from Dewey's daughter. Through her, I now know that her gun actually was a 20-gauge (pretty impressive for a girl!) and that on their hunting trips, they had picnics of Vienna sausages, cheese and Fig Newtons. Wanda's son Scott, a Methodist minister in Texas, still has the gun, obviously a cherished family keepsake. Like many men of his era, Rev. Whitwell was a "jack of all trades" -- he was, for example, also a beekeeper and devoted fisherman.
Also through "my Missy," I realized again how "relative," so to speak, and interconnected life can be. While I confessed to childhood jealousy of her, her gun and her walks in the woods with her father, she confessed to some envy of me -- I got to sit on her father's lap back then, she notes, and she didn't -- he was gone so much as an evangelist. Ah, childhood is very complicated.
Thank you again, Bradford family, for your affecting memories and comments.
The soft or shrill voice within us
7 years ago