Fond Memories Of Christmases Past

On Christmas Eve this year my family gathered at the West Columbia home of my sister (pictured above with me and Santa Claus in the early 1960s) and her family. "A great time was had by all," as the saying goes. We enjoyed a delicious meal, watched the SMU Mustangs kick ass in their college football bowl game on TV, and handed out presents. Then, with everyone in sort of a semicircle seated around the living room, we took turns talking about our most memorable Christmases. When it came to me I chose to bypass what I consider my most memorable Christmas because of its sad nature, and instead told of what I will refer to as "my best Christmas." Back in the days when mini-bikes were the craze and many of my friends and classmates at West Columbia Intermediate School had them, I asked my mother and father if I could have a mini-bike (a much smaller version of a motorcycle powered by an engine about the size of a lawnmower's engine) for Christmas. I screwed the story up when I was telling it at Kelli's house Christmas Eve. I said that when I was working at my parents' feed store in mid-December of the year I had requested the mini-bike, I wandered over to the locked up building next door to the feed store and peered through the glass in the door and just happened to see my mini-bike and my little sister's 10-speed bicycle that my mom and dad had hidden in the building that they used to store hay and other feed store related items. Kelli corrected me and said that it was she who discovered the Christmas gifts that were supposed to be from Santa Claus. After she said this Christmas Eve that she was snooping around and found our Santa presents, I now remember that she is correct. Kelli told me what she had found and later I went and looked for myself. So now, in my early fifties (I prefer to say that I'm in my late forties . . . late, late forties . . . in fact I am now forty-twelve), I get a lot of my old memories confused. My YOUNGER sister (who actually is in her late forties) will soon be finding herself having to correct stories told by both me and our (much) older brother. Alzheimer's runs in the family so we are all prone to be candidates for the memory-stealing disease. So, Reader's Digest version, that was my most memorable Christmas that I talked about Christmas Eve. But in actuality, there is one Christmas of my life that by far is much more memorable than any others. During most of my young life, my mother's mother and brother and sister would all congregate at our house in West Columbia on Christmas Eve to eat a wonderful meal prepared by my mother, and then sit around the Christmas tree and open our presents. So many very wonderful memories swirl in my mind about Christmases past. I have so many to think about when it comes to my own current family, my wife of 29 years and our sons, both our biological children and those we have taken in over the years and treated as our own kids. But sad to say, Christmas has never meant the same to me as it did when my grandmother, Clara Pauline Giesler, was a big part of my earlier Christmas memories. The tradition was for Grandma and Uncle (my mother's brother Howard Giesler) and Aunt Yvonne Broadway and her sons to leave their East Columbia home in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve and join my family for food and presents and the best part of that holiday recipe: family togetherness. So my grandmother's last Christmas was what sticks in my mind as my most memorable Christmas. Grandma, who we all called Dee-Dee when we were young kids but switched to calling simply "Grandma" when we got older because that is what all of the Broadway boys (our first cousins) called her, had enjoyed a routine Christmas Eve at my parents' house when our first born son Brian was still a baby. Peggy and Brian and I lived across the yard from my parents at the time in what had been the home of my dad's mother and father before both of those grandparents passed away. The following day my immediate family was eating our Christmas Day meal at my mom and dad's house in West Columbia when my mother took what I have to rank among the five most memorable phone calls I have ever been a part of. My Aunt Yvonne told my mother (her sister) that their mother had just died at her East Columbia home, where my Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Howard also lived. "Oh, Yvonne, you don't mean it!" my mother shrieked into the receiver. So, of course, everyone in the house stopped what they were doing and stared at my mother. As tears began to stream down Mama's cheeks, we all knew within seconds that whatever the news was, it wasn't good. So we all got in our cars and rushed to East Columbia on Christmas Day of 1983 where we walked into my grandmother's house to take in the surreal scene of everyone crying and shaking their heads in disbelief at what had just transpired. James "Scooter" Phillips, a friend and classmate of my brother Cody's, was a sheriff's deputy who had been celebrating Christmas at his mother's house just down the street from my grandmother's home. I had called the police department from my parents' house and requested an ambulance be sent to East Columbia to try to revive my grandmother. Scooter heard the call for the EMT's on his sheriff's deparment radio and rushed down the street to start CPR attempts on Grandma. My brother Cody and I were driving into East Columbia and noticed the ambulance at the wrong house, so we rode over and directed the EMT's to the correct house. But it was too late to do anything for my grandmother. The EMT's took over for the sheriff's deputy but quickly realized that Clara Pauline Giesler's life had come to an end. My grandmother would have celebrated her 83rd birthday the following month. At my grandmother's funeral, held at the historic Presbyterian church in East Columbia a couple days after Christmas, the preacher commented on how her death on Christmas Day had significant meaning because Grandma loved the Christmas holidays so very much. The story of her death, as it was told to me by those who witnessed it, was that Grandma was preparing Christmas dinner for her family. My own immediate family usually shared the noon meal with the rest of my mother's family in East Columbia on Christmas Day, with them joining us for the Christmas Eve meal. But this particular year my mother cooked for her children and grandchildren (she only had Dustin, Brian and Hayley at the time) instead of going to East Columbia. I was told that my grandmother had a turkey in the oven and other things cooking on the stove when she sat down in her rocking chair and simply slumped over . . . lifeless. My uncle ran to her and eventually picked his mothe up and placed her on a bed at the front of the house. The EMT's said she was probably dead before CPR attempts were even initiated, so it is my impression that her heart just gave out on her. Stress had to have contributed greatly to her demise as well. Her oldest daughter Yvonne was in advanced stages of breast cancer at the time, and we had buried one of her grandsons (Danny Louis Broadway) when he died at the age of 26 not too many years before Grandma passed away. My Aunt Yvonne would not survive her cancer ordeal much longer, so it is with some sense of relief that Dee-Dee did not have to live through the death of her daughter. I witnessed first hand how distraught my grandmother was over the death of her young grandson. And, although I wept like a baby when I lost my grandmother when I was in my twenties, it would have been extremely difficult to have to watch her deal with the passing of my Aunt Yvonne. Grandma's passing on Christmas Day of 1983 was, for all the wrong reasons, the most memorable Christmas of my life. But, like with the story I told this Christmas Eve at my sister's house, there are so many varied happy memories (many which feature my grandmother who died on Christmas Day) that I will treasure forever involving the Christmas holidays and the many family members and friends I love so dearly. I have included with this blog entry a number of photos from Christmases past that I hope each of you enjoys looking at. I have many more but I am limited to how many I can include with this blog entry, so if you got left out this year then check out my blog next Christmas. Hopefully the Christmas photos I took of you will appear then.

Opening presents on Christmas Eve and rushing out into the living room Christmas morning to see what goodies Santa Claus had brought with him down the chimney was always the very best part of Christmas for me. And the joy was practically the same when, like in the photos above, I was the little boy receiving Santa's gifts, or as the photo below displays, I portrayed the Santa role and put the big smiles on my own little boys' faces come Christmas morning. Above you see how elated a three-year-old Tracy Gupton was when I climbed atop my first tricycle and fired my brand new outer space laser pistol at my mom the photographer on Christmas morning, 1960, and strummed my new guitar with my big brother Cody the following Christmas morning. OK, the Everly Brothers we weren't, but didn't Cody and I look great in our fancy pajamas in 1961. My boys Bret, left, and Brian posed on Christmas morning for my camera when we lived on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia (check out Bret's Bart Simpson pajamas). That was the only house we lived in that actually had a fireplace (pictured in the background). But whether we had one or not, Santa always seemed to find his way into the living room to leave gifts for me and my brother and sister when we were kids, and then likewise when Cody, Kelly and I all had kids of our own.

The Christmas holidays always offered such wonderful photo opportunities. I took the photo above on Christmas Eve of 1989, my wife Peggy posing with "her babies," our youngest sons Bret and Blake; while the photo below is of my father, Rex Gupton, posing on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with our children, his grandsons, from left: Brian, Blake and Bret Gupton.

My mother, Verna Gupton, who was taken from us by pancreatic cancer in 1996, was the personification of Christmas to me. She and her mother, Pauline Giesler, went out of their way each and every December to make Christmas so very, very special to all of their kids and grandkids. Pictured above is my mother Verna cuttin' up for the camera, as she was always prone to do, using the new lamp she had gotten for Christmas as a prop to get a laugh. The photo above that was taken in January or February of 1958 when it snowed in Southeast Texas. That is me being held by my grandmother, Pauline Giesler (who my siblings and I referred to as Dee-Dee when we were kids), in front of the large two-story house my family called home when we lived in Markham, Texas, during the earliest years of my life.

A gallery of Santa Claus photographs from the past is presented above. Posing with ol' Saint Nick are, from top to bottom: my baby boy Blake sitting on Santa's lap in 1992, my middle son Bret with Santa, Blake with Santa from another year, my sister's son Dustin Mosteit when he was a little boy (Dustin is approaching 30 now), and Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees with Santa Claus. No, wait a minute, it's an impostor! Hey, I know that guy. Although he sadly looks nothing like he did back in the 1980s, when this photo was taken, that good lookin' hunk was me . . . many, many moons ago! I sure wish I had that hair back!

Christmas has a way of making me really miss those beloved family members who are no longer around to celebrate the holidays with us. Parents and grandparents were the biggest part of my earliest Christmas memories, as well as my siblings Cody and Kelly. So now I find myself thinking of them so often during this period of the year between Thanksgiving and New Year's. Our sons--Brian, Bret and Blake--are pictured above on Christmas Eve of 1991 with my wife Peggy and her parents, Omer and Dorothy Hall. This is one of my favorite pictures of my in-laws. In the photo above that my only surviving uncle, my mother's younger brother Howard Giesler, is shown opening his presents on Christmas Eve many years ago at my parents' house.

My nephew Rex Layne Gupton, rapidly approaching his 21st birthday (he was born on Super Bowl Sunday), is the star of the above photos which were taken by me on Christmas Eve of 1989 when "Montana" Rex was a baby, and on Christmas Eve of 1991 when Rex posed with his mom and dad, Andrea and Cody Gupton. My mother Verna dubbed her "Super Bowl" grandson "Montana" because Joe Montana led the San Francisco 49ers to victory the day Rex Layne was born. I guess if the Cincinnati Bengals had won that day, my nephew would still be called "Boomer" instead of "Montana." Cody must have really liked that shirt because he appears to be wearing it in both photos, taken a couple years apart. But that's nothing, a few years ago we were looking at old family photos and I came across a picture of me holding my youngest son Blake when he was a baby. I was wearing the same shirt the day we were looking at those old photos that I had on in the picture I posed for with Blake when he was a baby. Hey, the Gupton brothers get their money's worth out of our clothes!

In the photo above my little family gathered in the living room of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Ronnie and Marilyn Hall, in Pasadena, Texas, for a Christmas photo. My wife, Ronnie's baby sister Peggy, and I are shown with our boys, Brian, Bret and Blake.

When the "I Do's" were exchanged at the November 14th wedding of my adopted son, Kirk Gupton, and his new bride, the former Tanya Spears, Peggy and I went from having zero grandsons to abruptly finding ourselves the new grandparents of four darling little boys. Pictured below with Santa Claus in a photo taken during the 2008 Christmas season are my grandsons, from left, Koby Richardson, DeMarcus Randall, Trey Spears and Koy Richardson. In the photo above are Kirk and Tanya and their kids in a photo I took at our house in 2008 on Christmas day.

Teagan Grace Born On Grandpa's Birthday

This past Sunday a milestone in the Gupton-Weems-Smith-Polhemus families occurred. A Hollywood scriptwriter couldn't have penned it any better. Sara Weems Polhemus, the daughter of my cousin and best friend, Steve Weems, and his wife Rhonda Smith Weems, delivered her second daughter on her father's birthday. Stephen Kent Weems was born on November 15, 1957, and his newest granddaughter, Teagan Grace Polhemus, made her grand entrance into the world on November 15, 2009. Little Teagan, whose arrival terminated Kinley Mae Polhemus's days as an only child, wasn't due until later in the week but made her grandfather's wishes come true by being born on the same day of the year that he was 52 years ago. Kevin Polhemus is the proud father of both Kinley Mae and now Teagan Grace. Kevin and Sara live in Chicago, though both are graduates of Columbia High School in West Columbia, Texas. Sara, pictured above with her beautiful baby girl Teagan, is shown below with Steve and Rhonda when she was a baby herself. Steve, who has been as close to me as a brother since before the two of us even started school, is pictured below in a photo I took of him in my parents' kitchen when he was in his twenties, and in a more recent photo with his wife Rhonda as the two of them chat with Joe Fenn at Steve's Uncle J.W. Gupton's 80th birthday party in Richmond, Texas. I would like to extend my congratulations to Sara, Kevin and Kinley on the birth of the newest member of the Polhemus family of Chicago, to Steve and Rhonda for being grandparents for the second time, to their son Austin Weems for becoming an uncle yet again, and, of course, to Jack and Phyllis Weems on becoming great-grandparents . . . one more time. And, now, what follows is my continuation of my previous blog wishing "Happy Birthday" to the many friends and family members I love so much who were all born in November.

Jamie Laron Tims, who celebrated his 27th birthday on November 4th, has been like a son to me since he was a small child. Jamie, pictured below sporting the Deion Sanders jersey and roller skates he received from "Santa Gup" many Christmases ago, is also pictured showing off his infant daughter Amaya on a sunny afternoon in Lake Jackson. Jamie, whose younger brother Garry Anthony "Bubba" Hutcherson turned 24 on November 16th, is shown below with my son Brian Gupton in a photo from their youth. Another "foster" son of mine who is also now a father of his own daughters is pictured below when he was one of my kids. Adrian Lee Earl Pipkins, known to all of us simply as "Wimpy," was 24 years old on November 12th. Wimpy was photographed by me at the beach and on his bicycle when he was about 11 or 12 years old. And the other "beach beauty" stretched out in the sand is Courtney Johnson, who celebrated his 29th birthday on November 11th. Chris, Courtney, Jamie, Bubba and Wimpy--all November babies--were all just like my own sons when they were kids. Now they are all grown men, a couple now married and a couple with children of their own.

Winners at a "Hoop Jam" tournament in Pearland in 2000 were, pictured below from left to right, my son Brian Gupton, Julian Solis and Chris Maynard, all members of the Columbia Roughnecks varsity basketball team that year. Chris, who is also pictured above, celebrated his 28th birthday on November 11th. The trio of Roughnecks cagers proudly display the trophies they won that day nine years ago.

Sharing a November 11th birthday with my uncle, former district judge Thurman M. Gupton (who would be turning 98 this month if he were still alive) are two of my son Brian Gupton's best friends since his childhood days. Both Chris Maynard, pictured below at right with Brian from their 2000 high school prom, and Courtney Johnson, pictured above in a childhood photo I took of him with Brian, were part of the wedding party last month when Brian married Tiffanie Hatley in front of the Varner-Hogg antebellum mansion near West Columbia. Courtney was 29 and Chris 28 when each had a birthday on November 11th.

Three of my favorite cousins, all of whom are as close to me as brothers and sisters, have much more in common than simply being related to me. Each was born in the month of November. In addition to my cousin Steve Weems, who served as the best man in Peggy's and my wedding 29 years ago, the son and daughter of my father's younger brother Marvin Aubrey "Hank" Gupton and his wife Terry are also celebrating birthdays this month. Steve is the son of my dad's first cousin, Phyllis Gupton Weems, and her husband Jack Weems. So I guess that makes Steve and I either second or third cousins. But I know Hank Gupton and Angie Gupton Middleton are both my first cousins since our fathers were brothers. Pictured above are photos of Hank and Angie when they were small children. Angie Kyle Gupton was born on November 21, 1953, and was 20 months old when my mother took the picture of little Angie at the beach with her mother Terry Gupton. And the photo of her big brother Raybourne Ricks Gupton, who everyone in our family referred to as "Little Hank" when he was younger (since his daddy was Big Hank), was taken on a seesaw at a park somewhere between Jackson, Tennessee, and Texas in the mid-1950s. Little Hank's birthday is November 19th. My good friends William Minks and Connie Matocha, who served on the West Columbia Little League Board of Directors with me when our sons were 11 and 12 years old, both celebrate their 51st birthdays this week. Pictured above is Connie with her husband Pat Matocha when they ate out last year in honor of Connie's 50th birthday. She was born on November 17th while William Minks, pictured in the photo above hers with his dachsund buddy, was born on November 21st in 1958. Connie is also pictured in sombrero with cake on her face at her 50th birthday party. And that cute little eighth grader above that is none other than William, pictured from his school days when he was attending Wallis Junior High School. Can you find me in the Little League Board of Directors photo? I'm only the second best looking guy in the picture. Damn you William, why do you have to be such a pretty boy?

November Month Of Many Friends' Births

11-11-11. My Uncle Thurman reminded me frequently during his later years of the importance of the numeral eleven in his life. In addition to being born on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year 1911, Thurman Morris Gupton also wore the number "11" on his football jersey when he was the quarterback for the West Columbia Roughnecks in the late 1920s. Thurman was probably the original "T. Gup," long before the nickname was stuck on me. He was the first child born to my grandparents, Samuel Morris "Buff" and Eula Gupton, and was 10 years older than my father, Rex Gupton, who is pictured below at left with his brother Thurman. This photo, which I took on the steps of the Baptist church in West Columbia on the day my cousin (Thurman's granddaughter) Cindy and Earl Saville were married, also includes Thurman's wife Gladys Gupton and Mrs. T.M. Smith, who was one of my Sunday School teachers when I was a child. Sharing the November 11th birthday with my Uncle Thurman, who is deceased, are two of my son Brian's best friends and classmates, Courtney Johnson and Chris Maynard. Photos of Chris and Courtney, as well as other dear friends and family members who also were born in the month of November, will be featured in a followup companion piece to this blog entry. I was unable to upload additional photos and don't know if the Blogger software allows only a limited number of pictures per blog entry or not. So read through this little piece I put together and then check out the followup entry about other family and close friends with November birthdays.

The two sons of Diane George and Garry Tims, Jamie Tims and Bubba Hutcherson, both celebrate their birthdays in November. Jamie and Bubba spent big chunks of their younger years growing up in the Gupton home, practically as brothers to our sons Brian, Bret and Blake. Jamie was born on November 4th in the same year as our eldest son Brian, who was born in 1982. And while Bubba was born on November 16, 1985, his late birthday put him in the same grade as our middle child Bret, who was born May 9, 1986. Jamie and Bubba, who are the younger half-brothers of our adopted son Kirk, fit right into the Gupton family, being the same ages as our two oldest sons, Brian and Bret. And just like my own three sons, Kirk, Jamie and Bubba were always more than willing to pose for "Daddy" T. Gup's camera. I have always loved this photo at right that I took of Bubba in 2000. Like his natural brothers and his "adoptive" brothers, Bubba is very photogenic. The first picture below shows Bubba at an early age between my sons Bret, left, and Blake at the playground. The photo below that is one I took of my four baseball All-Stars, pictured from left: Blake Gupton, Adrian Pipkins, Bret Gupton and Bubba Hutcherson. That season Peggy and I signed up both Bubba and Adrian to play baseball in the same youth league as our two younger boys. Our older son Brian was playing baseball in high school by that time. Bubba and Jamie are pictured in the lower photo with their older sister, Kasandra George.

Turning 24 years old yesterday (November 16, 2009) was Garry Anthony Hutcherson, pictured above and at right). Bubba Hutcherson has been a vital part of the lives of myself and my family since he was barely out of diapers. So the fact that Bubba, or "Deuce" as he prefers to be called these days, has now entered his 24th year makes me feel extremely old. Our family picture books feature many photographs of Bubba throughout the years, from his "little boy" photos from preschool and elementary, spanning the years through high school and now in his early years as an adult. Bubba is the younger brother of Jamie Tims, featured earlier in this article, who both are just like sons to me and my wife Peggy. David Carey, who is celebrating his 40th birthday today, is pictured below in a current photo that was borrowed from David's Facebook page. David is also pictured below in photos taken in the summer of 1990.

Reaching his 40th birthday, November 17, 2009, is much more of an accomplishment than most readers of this blog could ever possibly imagine. David Wes Carey, pictured above in a 1990 photo taken in Tempe, Arizona, with his older sister Anita Rutherford, right, and younger sister April Carey, was born on this day in 1969. Happy Birthday David from T. Gup in West Columbia, Texas. I was born in Bay City, Texas, where David Carey excelled for the Bay City Black Cats on the baseball diamond, the footbal gridiron and the basketball court. But while a freshman baseball player at Scottsdale Community College in Scottsdale, Arizona, David's dreams of one day pitching in the major leagues were shattered by a gunblast. An errant bullet from a pistol being handled by roommates in David's apartment struck him in the back while he slept in his bed in the wee hours of the morning, turning him into a quadriplegic. David Carey, whose story is told in more detail in the blog entry below this one, is pictured above with family members in Tempe, Arizona.

Not only one of my favorite cousins but definitely also one of my favorite friends is my first cousin Angie Kyle Gupton Middleton, pictured above with her husband Jack Middleton. The Middletons, who live in Cove, Texas, near Baytown, are both November babies. Jack celebrated his birthday on November 8th while Angie was born on November 21st. Angie and her big brother Hank, whose birthday is two days before his sister's, are pictured above with their mother, the late Terry Gupton, at a holiday gathering at the Anahuac home of Hank Gupton and his wife A. Lynette Parsons about 10 years ago. The photos above that were taken at the same family get-together. Hank and I are comparing our Gupton similar physical features in one while Angie hugs her hubbie Jack in the other. In the photo below, my fourth grade teacher and kissin' cousin Joyce Lester is pictured with her late husband, Charley Lester, on the steps of the First Baptist Church in West Columbia at the 1995 wedding of my cousin Cindy Brandt and Earl Saville. Joyce, who has a November 26th birthday, is now married to Ralph C. Warne. Joyce was not only one of my favorite teachers during my younger years growing up in West Columbia, but has always been among my favorite people. I love her immensely and miss her husband Charley so very much.

The photograph at right below of my cousin Hank Gupton and his bride Lynette was taken in my West Columbia backyard in 1992. Like my musical idol John Fogerty, cousin Hank married a Hoosier from the great state of Indiana. Raybourne Ricks "Hank" Gupton celebrates his birthday on November 19th while Indiana's finest export to the Lone Star State, Lynette Parsons, has a December 4th birthday.

Although both missed being born in the month of November by only a few days, my wife of 29-plus years, Peggyjo Hall Gupton (at left in the top photo), and my cousin Hank Gupton's wife A. Lynette Parsons are among the most beautiful, intelligent and compassionate people in my small circle of friends. The two photos above were all taken in the summer of 2000 on a trip the four of us took to The Beau Rivage Hotel and Casino in Biloxi, Mississippi. Hank, who is the son of my father Rex Gupton's younger brother, Marvin Aubrey "Hank" Gupton, was born on November 19, 1946, and will be celebrating his 63rd birthday in a couple days. Lynette, his soulmate and best friend, was born on December 4th. Peggy, the love of my life who has put up with all of my shit for far too many years, was born on December 7th. Since I was brought up right by a mother who claimed she was 39 for over 30 years, I will abstain from revealing Peggy and Lynette's ages. Not simply because I am a nice guy, but also because both women can kick my ass. So I wrap up this little salute to the friends and family members I love so very much who each have their November births in common, as well as their contiguous ties to me to boot, by wishing each of you a heartfelt "Happy Birthday" and adding three little words as icing on the cake. "I Love You" for being so very special to me over the span of the many years that I have been around on this great earth. Each of you mentioned above mean more to me than words can adequately describe. Here's a little toast to all of you, so raise those glasses high and clink them together in unison while I say from the bottom of my heart, "May each of you live forever, and may the last face you see be mine!"