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Our World Stopped

 Our World Stopped


When you were taken away, we cried. 

Devastation shrouded our lives

As we tried to understand why. 

The “why” eludes us as we try to grasp the reason and our own purpose. 


Time stood still when we learned of your passing, yet time continued on. 

You are now a memory sealed in our hearts and kept alive with our smiles, laughter… and tears… as we recall significant events and milestones of your life. 


The heartache of losing you is tremendous, and we wonder at our own survival. 


In the wake of your death are many who loved you, and love you still, who are drowning in grief as we learn to celebrate your life and learn to live on without you. The pain is unbearable and breathtaking. 


Until we meet again in the sky, the great beyond, our heavenly home, we will choose life, one day at a time, and rely on God to carry us during our disabled state, a state of confusion and disbelief. 


Love and support help us cope, even so, the hole created by your absence is great and cannot be filled. Your memories will have to suffice until we are able to join you. Until then, we are missing you. 


Fran Hopkins O’Rourke 

2021


Written for and dedicated to my son David O’Rourke in memory of the passing of his son Braden O’Rourke. 


Braden O’Rourke

9/5/2001

4/10/2021

Leprechaun's Deceipt

The rainbow is God's promise
not a path that leads astray
to pots of gold and empty promises
that are soon to fade away

For such things are for the foolish
who chase false hopes and empty dreams
for Leprechaun deceives them
and preys upon their greed

In their search of gold and happiness
to this end they will receive
only grief and disappointment
not the treasure that they seek

Francene Hopkins
Copyright 3-17-2004

The Mask--Her Persona

The Mask--Her Persona


Have you seen her without her mask--her persona?
The pain-filled lines of age lying underneath from years of failed relationships?

Her downcast eyes with an overflow of tears she cannot contain when no one is looking her way?
Her broken heart, pieced back together like a puzzle, that once held love but dares not trust again for fear of shattering?

Do you care? Do you really care?
Or are you content to view the mask--the persona--she portrays to fool all who surround her but do not know her?

Have you heard her laugh, a laugh too loud to deafen the screams of her heart?
Have you noticed she tries too hard to please the undeserving people around her to earn the recognition she craves?
Have you seen the loyalty expressed to so-called friends who could care no less for her efforts?
Have you observed the goodness of her spirit when others are in need?

Do you care? Do you really care?
Or are you content to view the the mask--the persona--she portrays to fool all who surround her but do not know her?

Francene Hopkins
Copyright 7/22/2023

My Grandfather William Jesse (Hoppy) Hopkins

William Jesse (Hoppy) Hopkins

When Lizzie, Jesse's mother died, his father George left Jesse with a Choctaw family for 5 years. Jesse was listed as stepson on the 1900 Indian Choctaw rolls. Jesse learned and spoke the Choctaw language fluently.
They lived at Enterprise, Oklahoma, near Stigler.  Mr. Hopkins [Hoppy] told us the story of how George had taken him back and was going to beat Mr. Hopkins [Hoppy]. As the story goes, Jesse was driving a team of horses pulling a wagon behind George’s wagon.  Jesse got off and George did not know, as he was too far ahead of Jesse. This was when he left home for good. He was 14 years old, and this is when he started caring for himself. George was a very mean old man. They each had a load of watermelons. They could not sell all of them, so they were taking them back home to feed to their hogs, but Jesse gave some melons to a man alongside the road, and it made George angry. George said he was going to beat him when they got home. Jesse wrapped the reins around the brake handle and got off the wagon. The horses followed George's wagon home. Jesse ran away and was gone for 3 years before he ever went back to see George.



Hoppy is holding Wayne Hopkins. W.J. "Jay" Hopkins standing behind chair.

Clarence Jesse Hopkins, 013113-022498

Daddy's Military Service, 1942-1945


I am in the process of verifying this story with National Archives.org.
Years 1942-43 appear to be missing and may have been destroyed in the 1973 fire.

Posted this to Hopkins Tribal History on FB, a private family group:

WWII

This story, as told to my brother and me by our cousin, Johnny Wayne Gallaher, with whom our dad confided. Johnny served in the U.S. Marines in Vietnam, so he and dad had a common connection, death of their military brothers and sisters. My brother, Clarence David Hopkins, served in the U.S. Navy during Vietnam, but dad confided in neither him nor me. We think it was too sensitive a subject for him to talk about with his own kids. We are grateful to Cousin Johnny for sharing this story after our dad's death in February 1997.

My dad, Clarence Jesse Hopkins, served in the U.S. Navy during World War II from 1942-45. Fold3 records show he was assigned to the USS CYRENE and USS VARUNA during 1944-45. There is no evidence of these two ships having been bombed or involved in battle; however, records show one of the ships collided with another US Navy ship; minor damage and no injuries. He went to GI school in Walters, Oklahoma, and received the South Pacific Campaign Bar. His outfit was 4th Specialist Sea Bees. He joined after the start of WWII in October or November 1942. Dad had told Johnny that If they [the Navy] were short of tail-gunners, you could volunteer. He served 18 months in Guadalcanal, 6 months in Okinawa, and the remainder of his time in between those two ports. [Fold3 records show his ships docked as far as the northeast Atlantic coastal port of New Jersey and as far as the Pacific western coastal port of San Francisco, California.]

While anchored at port in Guadalcanal, the crew was unloading 50 gal. drums of gasoline when they were bombed.

"Your dad's ship and a couple of others were at the dock being unloaded when they were hit. He jumped into the water to get away from the fire, and being a good swimmer, he swam to shore. He heard all the yelling and screaming of the others that were in the water. He saw a row boat and he got that and would row out to get whoever he could. Their skin was rolling off their bodies, but he would load them up and take them back to shore.
"The commander of one of the other ships was the one who ask him who had done that [rescued his shipmates], and that is when he said that he didn't know.
"[When cousin Johnny] ask him why he didn't say something [to the commander], because he would have gotten a medal for what he had done, your dad said, 'They don't give medals out when you abandon ship without being ordered to!' He was NOT going to take that chance!"

The “chance” he couldn’t take was the loss of the monthly allotment sent to his mother to support her and his siblings. 

In 1946 Dad returned home on an aircraft carrier and was discharged in San Francisco, California.
Also, Johnny said that Dad saw an ammo dump bombed and that it blew for almost a week.

Additional information about WWII (copied from Wikipedia):

November 1942—United States Marines rest in the field during the Guadalcanal campaign.
Date : 7 August 1942 –
9 February 1943 [Note that these dates are the ones missing from Fold3 records.]
(6 months and 2 days)
Location: Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands
Result: Strategic Allied victory
Beginning of Allied Offensive Operations in the Pacific

Corn on the Cob

Corn on the Cob


I think dinner was okay last night, at least bro didn't reach for the peanut butter and bread. We had pan fried pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, pan-fried breaded squash, and corn on the cob.

Every time I have corn on the cob, I'm reminded of a time when the kids were little and we went home to visit my parents on their small farm in Comanche, Oklahoma. Driving up to the house, I saw a beautiful, green, luscious field of corn.

I told Daddy that my mouth was watering for an ear of corn and could we have some for dinner. He said (as he was laughing), "Well, sister, I planted that corn for the hogs and cows, but if you want some, go out there and pick some. It's not sweet corn, but it's good." He continued to laugh. We didn't have corn on the cob for dinner. I wasn't going to eat hog food! That's for sure!

We did have fried okra, squash, and tomatoes from Mama's garden, which eased my disappointment, but I never forgot the sight of that cornfield. The stalks must have been six-feet tall, or taller, and a beautiful green, a forest, really. As a kid, I could have gotten lost in that forest and eaten my fill of corn...if only it were sweet corn and not hog food.