Randy Willis

The last time I saw Lady Bird Johnson was at the Headliners Club in Austin, Texas. This inscription is on the inside cover of her book, Wildflowers Across America. She had it hand-delivered to me at my home in Austin. The Texas bluebonnets in bloom this month remind me of her.

Note to Randy Willis from three generations of President Lyndon B. Johnson’s family: Lady Bird Johnson, Luci Baines Johnson, and Nicole Nugent Covert.

Randy Willis #randywillis

http://threewindsblowing.com

The Spanish Flu 1918 / Randy Willis

The Ole Willis Place

She was beautiful, charming, and graceful.

That would all fade within hours after exposure to the 1918 flu pandemic.

She was my Great-Aunt Eulah Rosalie Hilburn Willis. She died from the 1918 flu pandemic, aka The Spanish flu, on February 6, 1919. She was only 34.

Her daughter, Flossie Willis (the baby in the wagon photo), was my cousin and friend until her death in 1985. She told me her father and mother’s story, and I included in my book Destiny last year.

The plague lasted from January 1918 to December 1920.

It emerged in two phases. In the late spring of 1918, the first phase, known as the “three-day fever,” appeared without warning. Few deaths were reported. Victims recovered after a few days. When the disease surfaced again that fall, people had lost their fear of it, but this time it was devastating!

It is estimated that 500 million people or one-third of the world’s population became infected with the influenza virus. The number of deaths was estimated to be between 50 and 100 million worldwide, with about 675,000 occurring in the United States. Nearly 200,000 Americans died from the “Spanish Flu” in October 1918 alone.

In the United States, about 28% of the population of 105 million became infected. Today, that percentage could even be higher since social distancing is far more complicated.

The United States had been caught unprepared in 1918 for the outbreak partly because advances in bacteriology made many Americans believe they could control infectious diseases. At least that’s what the experts told the people.

The influenza epidemic of 1918 has been overlooked in the teaching of American history—until now.

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Photo: The Ole Willis Home Place, August 5, 1906, located near Amiable Baptist Church (near present-day Longleaf, Louisiana), on Barber Creek.

My Great-Uncle Robert Kenneth Willis Sr. (1877-1951) has the reins in his hands. Robert’s first wife Eulah Hilburn Willis (1884-1919), is in the backseat. She died in the influenza pandemic of 1918/19.

My Greatgrandmother Julia Ann Graham Willis (1845-1936) is holding a catfish and is standing next to the wagon. Robert and Eulah’s baby girl Flossie Litton Willis (August 5, 1905 – September 1985) is held by an unknown lady. Flossie told me before her death that this photo was taken on her first birthday.

The story of Eulah Hilburn Willis may be found in my novel Destiny https://www.amazon.com/Destiny-Randy-Willis/dp/1792724470

Eulah Hilburn Willis is buried in the Lecompte Cemetery in Rapides Parish, Louisiana.

Be safe…

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Randy Willis
www.ThreeWindsBlowing.com

Robert Kenneth Willis

Randy Willis #randywillis randywillis

For my four Grandchildren on Christmas Eve 2019 | Randy Willis

Randy Willis Grandkids Eyes

He was born in a little—known town in the country. He was fetched up by his parents in another village known for its unblemished lambs. Folks said nothing good would ever come out that hamlet.
 
He worked with his hands in a carpenter shop until he was thirty. The next three years He traveled as a country preacher.
 
He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never commanded an army. He never owned a home. He never went to college. He never traveled more than a couple hundred miles from the place where he was born.
 
While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. One friend denied him; another betrayed him. Most of His other friends abandoned him. The politicians rejected—the religious folks even hated him.
 
He was turned over to his enemies with a kiss. He went through the mockery of a trial—then nailed to a notorious prisoner named Barabbas’ cross between two thieves. His executors gambled for his only possession—his coat.
 
When he died, he was laid in a borrowed grave. He would not need one of his own for you see the next Sunday mornin’ He rose from the dead!
 
Today as we look back across the centuries and examine the evidence we must conclude that all the armies that ever marched, all the ships that ever sailed, all the governments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned and all the presidents that ever lead combined have not had the influence on mankind of that one Country Preacher.
 
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“I’ve learned much from seeing the world through the eyes of my grandchildren, for you know, it is written, “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” ~ Randy Willis
 
Excerpted from Destiny and Three Winds Blowing, two novels by Randy Willis.
 

Christmas Day 1852| Randy Willis

On Christmas Day, in 1852, my 4th Great-Grandfather Joseph Willis celebrated his 92nd Christmas. His younger wife, Miss Elvy, had earlier that year, asked for his children to take him.
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Christmas Day ✯ December 25, 1852 ✯ Longleaf, Louisiana, near Babbs Bridge

Great-Grandpa Joseph Willis relived much of his life in Louisiana on the wagon trip in October of 1852 from Evergreen to Babb’s Bridge. He poured out his heart to us, and I discovered a joy in writin’ and keepin’ an account of all his stories.

Just when it seemed that no day in our family would ever top the 1845 Willis Feast of Thanksgiving…it did. It all begin the first time ever I saw a white Christmas, December 25, 1852, in Babb’s Bridge, and the entire family was there. Each family member brought a decoration for our tree. The cedar was so big that we had to cut it down three times just to get it inside the door. There were strings of popcorn, wooden figures, sugared fruit, paper dolls cut out by the girls, gingerbread, and somebody even brought a bird’s nest.

We had ornaments that had meanings, too, like a pine tree, which symbolized eternity, pinecones that meant warmth, and a teapot that signified hospitality, which has always been taught by our family. There were candy canes with the Good Shepherd’s crook, with white stripes for the purity of Jesus and his virgin birth and the bold red stripes for Christ’s shed blood. At the top of the tree was the star of Bethlehem made from a quilt. And, the Christmas stockin’s stuffed with nuts, candy, and fruit hung on every available nail.

I’ll never forget the looks on my cousins’, brothers’, and sisters’ faces. Dolls, books, tablets, pencils, wooden soldiers, and even a rockin’ horse were unwrapped that happy morn. I got a new writin’ tablet that I started using to write this.

Christmas Day started with a few flurries, and everyone ran out to see the snow. Mother taught us to make something I’d never eaten before—ice cream. She showed us how to add milk, cream, butter, and eggs with the snow in a pewter pot. She had read where President Thomas Jefferson had even made ice cream with split vanilla beans. Imagine that! Our traditional hot spiced cider warmed us from the cold. The smell of roasting chestnuts in Mama’s cast-iron skillet in the fireplace brought back precious memories of Christmas past.

As the flakes began to fall steadily, more guests arrived, including Mr. Cormier and Miss Adelaide. She was with child, due in a few months. Mr. Cormier told Great-Grandpa, “If the baby is a boy, we are gonna name him Joseph.” Great-Grandpa’s face shone with an all-knowin’ peace. You could hear the excitement in their voices as Mr. and Mrs. Cormier brushed the snow off.

Mr. Malachi Perkins, Miss Eliza, Randall, and Emily came in together. Mr. Perkins went right up to Great-Grandpa and gave him a hug, sayin’, “Pastor, we consider ourselves engaged, but as you know by Louisiana law, we can’t get married. We’ve fallen in love, and if it was legal, we’d be hitched already.” He hesitated, then went on, “We so want to do what’s right in the eyes of the Lord. I remember ya tellin’ me how your mama and daddy had a clandestine weddin’. I don’t want to bother ya on this special day, but would ya mind thinkin’ ‘bout it in a few days and lettin’ us know if ya’d perform our weddin’ ceremony?”

Great-Grandpa took all of two seconds, grinned, and said, “Ain’t gotta think about it, Malachi. I’d be honored…if ya don’t mind if I do the ceremony sittin’ down. I’m a half-step slower than I used to be.” Everybody laughed.

“Ya know, Pastor, ya could get in trouble for doin’ it!”

“Yes, I know, but I’m ninety-four, and my race here is almost run. What are they gonna do, shoot me? They already tried that, when I was only knee-high to a grasshopper.”

The entire room seemed to be filled with a sweet joy. We all cheered and clapped. Randall and Emily looked the happiest. Great-Grandpa motioned for me to come over and whispered in a voice real low, “Quite a few folks are named after me now. If you ever have a son, Dan, you should name him Randall, after Eliza’s son. You can even nickname ‘im Randy, if you so like. That way, our descendants will remember that miracle and share it with their children.”

We watched the storm bringin’ heavier snow, which seemed to be driven by a blue norther as our neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Robert Graham arrived. And yes, Julia Ann was with ‘em. Great-Grandfather asked to be carried to the barn to talk to his aged four-legged friend, Ole Sally. He told her he had a gift for her—a mule blanket that all the Willis women had made. They had made a matchin’ blanket for him, too.

I listened to ‘im sweet-talk ‘er in ‘er ear. He thanked ‘er for being a good friend and told ‘er that he could never have done it without ‘er. As Ole Sally leaned over the stall gate, Great-Grandpa kissed ‘er on the nose. She backed ‘er ears, and he laughed, sayin’, “Aww, you know you like it.”

We carried him back to the house, and then I asked him to share his annual Christmas story once again. Everyone gathered ‘round the fireplace. He looked like he was doin’ what he loved best.

The wind was blowing the snow so hard we didn’t hear Mr. Ford arrive with Mr. and Mrs. Peter Tanner, the brother and sister-in-law of his late wife. Mr. Ford rushed through the door with a great big smile, sayin’, “Looks like Solomon Northup will be freed on January 3rd. He’s gonna be a free man!” Again, everyone clapped and cheered.

Great-Grandpa’s heart was full of joy. Mine, too! He beamed as he said, “I don’t see how a Christmas could get any better than this.”

He’d started to tell the Christmas story when there was a knock at the door. I jumped up to answer the door. There stood a snow-covered, half-frozen woman in a green hooded cape. Her hair was all wet and matted. All of a sudden, I recognized her—and so did everyone else. There were a few gasps and then lots of hugs. Great-Grandpa couldn’t see very well, as his eyes were dimmed by age. He asked, “Who’s that? Who’s here?”

She put her finger up to her lips to keep everyone silent. No one said a word as she went over to Great-Grandpa, hugged him, and said, “Merry Christmas, Pastor Joseph Willis. I love you with all my heart.”

His eyes glistened as he pulled her to him and said, “I love you even more, Miss Elvy Willis. Welcome home! I’ve saved a place beside me for ya. You’re just in time to hear my favorite Christmas story again.

“He was born in a little-known village. He was brought up in another community that people said nothing good would ever come out of. He worked with his hands in a carpenter shop until he was thirty, and then for three years, he traveled as a country preacher. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never commanded an army. He never owned a home. He never went to college. He never traveled more than a couple hundred miles from the place where he was born.

He was rejected by the religious folk of that day. While he was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. One friend denied him. Another betrayed him. Many even hated him. He was turned over to his enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial and was then nailed to a notorious prisoner named Barabbas’ cross between two thieves. His executors gambled for his only possession—his coat.

“Most of his friends had abandoned him by then. When he died, he was laid in a borrowed grave. Then, on the next Sunday mornin’, he rose from the dead. As we look back across eighteen hundred years and examine the evidence and sum up his influence, we must conclude that all the armies that ever marched, all the ships that ever sailed, all the governments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned, and all the presidents that ever led combined have not had the influence on mankind that this one Country Preacher has had!”

Not a sound was heard ‘til Great-Grandpa said, “Merry Christmas, everyone!

I got a stirrin’ in my heart and started singin’, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”

Great-Grandpa and Miss Elvy joined in: “Let earth receive her King; let every heart prepare Him room….” Finally, everyone was singin’. “And Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven and nature sing, and Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing. Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns!”
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Excerpted from Three Winds Blowing (http://threewindsblowing.com/) by Randy Willis