Oil Heiress

Bet you didn’t know I’m an oil heiress.

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My maternal grandfather farmed during the Oklahoma dust bowl days. During his later years, he sold real estate. No one in his family ever actually starved to death, but it was a challenge to provide for them.

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I don’t think he ever had a comfortable life. Photographs give me some sense of the struggles he faced.

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Here he is (on the left) with his broomcorn.

My grandparents and my aunt:

Here he is with his son.

The four children who survived past infancy:

This picture shows the family. My mother is on the left, just below my grandfather.

My grandfather and my mother:

He made some good decisions, however, when he obtained mineral rights. After his death, my mother and her two sisters each received a third of these rights. (My grandfather also had three sons, but two died in infancy and one died in World War II.)

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Now, I’m not talking about a lot of money. One time Mom got a check for two cents.

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When my mother died five years ago, each of her children got a third of her interests. The percentage keeps decreasing, as I now have one-ninth of the mineral rights he acquired. Still, several times a month I get checks from oil companies, and I welcome checks of any size.

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I never really knew this grandfather. He died shortly before I turned eleven. Because he suffered from dementia for years, my contact with him had been minimal. My strongest memory of him comes from a time when I was about five years old; I was terrified when he opened the door while the car was moving.

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During this month of giving thanks, I am grateful for my grandfather. Although I didn’t get the chance to know him, my mother told me stories of his generous nature. I know that some of his values were passed on to her, and then to me.

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I am also thankful for these monetary gifts. I wonder how much oil and gas money his daughters and grandchildren have received over the years. I think he would be amused to know how well he has provided for his family.