PROLOGUE page 1 AND G.B. - page 3

PROLOGUE

I live by the sea and I hear eagles and herons and such.
But oh what I'd give to hear one "com'ere."* Oh I'd give so much.
I live by the sea and I sea rain and clouds and such.
But oh what I'd give for one desert storm. Oh I'd give so much.

Cotton-tails, jackrabbits scamper galore.
An antelope pounding the desert floor.
Sweet sound of a coyote in the moon-lit night.
But I'm here by the sea . . . and it's right.

I live by the sea and I see whales and seals and such.
But oh what I'd give for the mouring doves. Oh I'd give so much.
I live by the sea and I hear ducks and sea-lions and such.
But oh to hear the diamondback's rattle! Oh I'd give so much.

Jimsonweed, prairie dogs, cactus in bloom,
The silhouette of Junipers against the moon
"Com'ere." says that little bird with heart so light.
But I'm here by the sea . . . and it's right.

* the call of the little bird at the northern campsite.


G.B.

"I am what I am an' I don't give a damn! They call me G.B. That's short fer good boy. 'Course most people say its short fer gone bad."

August 14 1917, G.B. Madison was born to a share-cropping family in Chickasaw, Oklahoma.

"When I was a little bitty boy, had to learn to walk real fast so's I could help with the chores. Us boys went barefoot all summer. Couldn't go to school in September each year 'till we'd picked cotton 'nough to buy shoes an' books. Oh Charle, that cotton tears up a boy's hands real bad."

G.B.'s father was an ethical, religious, dominant, stubborn, hard working man who had demanding expectations for his five sons.
According to G.B., his sister was favoured by their mother and his father ruled the boys.

"I've taken many a beatin' from my Daddy, but he was the best man who ever lived. If me an' my four brothers couldn't find a friend to fight with, we beat on each other, or we teased our li'l sister 'till 'er screams brought our mother a runnin'. Either way, we got a whippin' from my Daddy.

"I recall how after dinner, an' after Daddy read some from the bible, he'd get out his fiddle. With us all gathered 'round, an' with the least little bitty one a-ridin' his leg, my Daddy played his fiddle an' beat out the rhythm with his foot."

On special winter nights, our mother made popcorn balls. Made 'em with our very own home-grown popcorn an' parched peanuts. Even had our own home-grown sorghum molasses. Big as softballs they was. Oh Charle they tasted larrupin'."

As a young adult, G.B. rose early to milk his cows and drive the milk into town, picking up other people's milk cans along the way. Next he put in a day's work in his feed and seed store. After dinner he put in a late shift at his "beer joint." Between marriages he squeezed in two years at the University of Oklahoma. G.B. rapidly learned to channel his quick mind and endless energy into hard work and steady financial growth.

"A full night's sleep is a downright waste a-money."

At thirty-three G.B. left Oklahoma. He left everyone he loved, the children he adored and he left his "beer joint" in the hands of tenants. He was fatigued by the quirks of his nature and by the twists of fate that had left him cash poor, alone and sad. Like many an Okie, G.B. headed west on Route 66.



G.B. and the Strange Canadian Painter Lady
by Charlotte Madison and Nana Cook copyright 1994