My dad called me Monday to say that he was just outside of Coffeeville and wanted to know if he could sleep on my couch and then if I'd like to drive with him to Omaha on Tuesday. I thought this sounded like a brilliant idea. I'd never been to Omaha. And so we went. Him in the driver seat, me acting as copilot. As we drove across rolling hills of snow and through fog and frost, we talked and laughed. And he told me this story. He said that his dad's dad married a woman whose last name was Puckett. They had only been married about a month when a big storm came rolling into town. He was worried about his young bride alone at home, so he left work to make sure she was OK. When he arrived at home, he found her standing in front of the windows. When she saw him, she beckoned him to her. She said "come and see this beautiful storm". My dad said she was always like that, always calm. Then dad turned to me and said "you have her blood".
As he told me this story, I could see this unknown woman, standing in her simple house dress in front of the window as lightening struck the ground outside. I could see her clearly, watching it all in awe and wonder and I thought to myself how often I felt like that. I thought about all the times I stood watching storms in wonder and awe. And I thought, maybe I am just a little bit like her.
Update: The Celebration of Chris Maddera will be Saturday, February 18th in the Davis Hall Little Theatre at USAO in Chickasha, Oklahoma at 2:00pm with reception to follow. Come share your stories, and join in the laughter that will surely follow. In lieu of flowers the family asks that you make a donation to Heifer International or Kiva.Org.