In 1934, the world was in turmoil. It was said that Europe was in the hands of a madman and America was called to arms once again. The whole idea of it gave T.H. the heebie jeebies. He felt the disease of war deep in his bones. Witnessing the dregs of the Civil War, the economic impact of World War I, the disease and poverty of the depression, the personal losses from futile attempts to control the future, he was exhausted. 

Like a small time paradox, he and Sallie were living a life that was at once empty and full. The cattle market was good enough to give them a good living;  the drilling for oil on the ranch land was going better than expected, but it all felt empty…futile somehow.

Shaking off the blues, listening to the quiet of his living room with its faint ticking of the mantle clock, the chiming of the hour soothed his ruffled feathers. And yet, life was moving along too fast. He had too much to do. And he was well aware that he had a short time to do it. At 74, he looked at the possibility that he had no real control over much of anything. Didn’t mean he would not keep trying and trying hard to control the life and ways of his family. But His fierce love for his family too often sounded like harsh criticism and anger to the grandsons. And the day that Roy Jr broke the thrashing machine, well, that just about put the icing on the cake.

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