In every generation there are a few for whom life has been particularly spectacular. Or rather, those who have been particularly spectacular to life. A certain type of awe and encouragement remains in the recounted memories. The tender pages of days past remain as a beacon of inspiration to those with ears to pause and hear.
Though it is easy to feel that the wild circumstances we ourselves have endured are unmatchable, tuning into the stories of other lives lived tells us another truth. We are far from alone. Perhaps we have more in common than we can fathom. Unique as our stories unfold, the human condition remains very much the same. As our circumstances may find us outside of our control, what we choose to make of them persists. Grit and determination, heart and passion, faith and hope - these are the pillars on which our legacies are built.
Here in North Texas, we have no shortage of legacy. In this series, we have the privilege to share the fantastic reflections of inspiring individuals that made their mark in North Texas.
This particular story begins as the clock strikes midnight.
Joe Price raced out of his house near the Red River to fetch a doctor for his laboring wife, Sybil Price. Left to brave her labor solo, the oil in the lamps ran out, and the ambitious nature of her son became clear. In the wee hours of morning dark, Harold Dean Price made his way into his mother's arms. The two of them huddled in the dark alone and Harold's mother affectionately dubbed him “my little Dean.”
To his father, he was always "my little man" - a message that left an indelible image on our subject. Bonded at the hip, little Dean clung to everything his father said and did. Determination was at the forefront of every decision.
"I watched him turn a bois d'arc tree into a fence post to put groceries on the table," Dean reflected, fondly. "His desires were always spoken of with a determined voice."
In 1944, when Dean had turned three years old, his younger brother was born. The young family uprooted and moved to California to live with the children's grandparents.
“World War II was ending, and the train was jam packed," Dean recollects. "Mother got a seat and held baby Delton. Dad, he stood up and held me all the way from Dallas to Los Angeles."
After three years of compiling hard-earned savings from working at a local cannery, the family bought a farm in northern Texas.
"Dad fulfilled his dream," remembers Dean. "A farm with Red River frontage, in Mulberry Bottom. 107 acres - $3,975.00."
The family eventually boasted a 20-acre vegetable garden, and a large jungle of watermelons. One Sunday afternoon, Dean remembered the conversation on the porch they had about electricity coming to Fannin County. The highlight of the news was the most welcome change it would bring to their bath times.
“I don’t miss Saturday night baths in a washtub and being next to the last of 4 in the same water!” Dean recalled with a chuckle.
Dean remembers a childhood that would make the jaws of children today drop in disbelief. Late-night campouts with his peers were filled with a raw zest for the grittiness of country living. Catching songbirds for dinner and chasing skunks to set a precedent. Rough and tumble doesn't begin to touch the surface, and yet Dean's childhood was full of a magic that many of us might feel has been lost.
"I miss the sun beaming down on a fall dove hunt," he says wistfully. "I miss the harvest air filled with ozone smells and finding an overlooked black diamond watermelon hidden in a jungle of Johnson grass - plucking it and eating the heart out of it right there!”
As time passed, the sails changed course to a new enchantment. The Red River.
The Red River woo’d Joe Price and his sons to no end, becoming as essential as the veins pulsing through the heart. The dream; to harness the river's magic and be sustained by it completely.
This dream facilitated a wide range of adventurous projects for Joe Price, and eventually his son, Dean. After the soil grew tired from peanut crops and watermelons, catching minnows from the River was a saving grace. Dean's tenacious father hand-rigged minnow traps, teamed up with his friends, and made more money in two days than their farming did in two weeks.
Dean remembers the hope that lit up his mother's face that day. Though not every inventive endeavour the family took on was such a success as that, Sybil always held onto her faith and place by Joe's side. The family was a united front, fueled by a mother's relentless love and a father's unyielding will -- a perfect bond that went unbroken unto death. A blend of spirits that was necessary to survive the challenges of the old rural country.
Life in Mulberry, TX during the Golden Age wasn't for the faint of heart. Mulberry suffered infestations like bed bugs, cotton boll weevils, and droughts followed by floods.
A round of malaria in the peak of summer heat nearly took Dean and his little brother Delton to the good Lord early. They endured what Dean described as a “skin peeling fever” with penicillin and prayer. There were no hospital stays, IV bags, or air conditioning. Sybil held both boys in her arms all night, praying fiercely as they slipped in and out of delirium. It was only when the resilient brothers asked for ice cream that the Price parents knew they'd pull through.
As the years ticked by, they took refuge again and again in the riches of the land and the river, the impact of which planted a seed in Dean's soul that was destined to grow. There was nothing he wanted more than to follow in his father's sandy Red River footsteps.
Joe Price was more than a beacon of inspiration to our little Dean. He was the kind of dad that made a boy excited to become a man.
And grow into a man he did. When Harold Dean Price graduated Bonham High School in 1959, his focus was overtaken by a boyish fascination. An unstoppable force like his father before him, Dean piecemealed himself a motorbike from second hand parts. In-between working at Safeway, possum hunting, and farm chores, the green motorbike without brakes took Dean on one single ride.
An oncoming car and the motorbike collided on the country road, sending Dean flying. His damage was severe, and he recalls the sights and smells of his injured bones.
Dean's days of coon hunting, sleeping under pecan trees, and building quirky machinery worked effortlessly to mold the creative young man that would soon become famously known as “Wildwood Dean.”
To be continued...
To read more about the childhood adventures of Wildwood Dean, River of Dreams by Wildwood Dean can be purchased on Amazon
