Welcome to Craig Week.
Every year I celebrate the first week in December to comemerate the life of my big brother Craig Ward, who died in 2002 after a long, valiant battle against cancer.
Craig was born on Dec. 4 and died on Dec. 6, just past his 49th birthday.
This public observance is not the only way I remember him — I remember him every time certains songs play, every time I see a movie that he loved or one that I know he would love, every time some news events brings back things in which we were both interested.
What would he be doing today? I have my ideas, but Craig would probably surprise me.
My past entries are archived in my personal web site. Most of them refer to the country-rock band he founded, The Bunk House Boys (alternately: The Bunkhouse Boys). A history of that band, some tall tales and some pictures are included in the archive.
This year, I will be sharing all kinds of memories about Craig, both with and without the band. After all, it only existed five years, and there was so much more to Craig.
I hope that you will join me, not only reading these tales, but contributing any memories you have of him.
He was a colorful character, clever, impulsive, funny, the kind of which legends are made.
I’ll share some of these legends and you can decide for yourself if they are believable or not.
They will all be true — maybe just a little unbelievable.
I’ll contribute an article each day of this 5-day week (and if it winds up the way I hope, I’ll even continue over the weekend).
First — a fact most may not know. His middle name was Delaine. I’m not sure where the name came from originally but it was the middle name of his father, Don. He predeceased his parents, and Craig was cremated. His parents were also cremated and all three have their names on a stone in the Clayton cemetary.
He lived the first part of his life in Norton, KS, with brief side trips to Lawton, OK and Manhattan, KS when his father was reactivated in the Army. He was preschool age when the family spent about a year at Ft. Sill, OK while Dad attended training with the 434th Field Artillery Brigade. During his 2nd grade year, the family relocated briefly to Fort Riley, Kansas, Home of the 1st Infantry Division, “Big Red One” where Dad recieved more training. I believe that at one of those posts he was promoted to captain, as he had served in the Korean War as a lieutenant.
I don’t have the photos with me at this time, but Don’s high school senior picture and Craig’s look remarkably alike.
I have very early memories — probably earlier than many people can remember. I can’t really date them except to try to compare them to historical facts, such as where we lived.
I’m unable to remember directly our first home in Norton, but I’m told it was in a division called “Tweedville.” Anybody with details of where that was, please let me know.
Another residence I don’t remember was on Country Club Road (not sure if that was the proper name of the street). I found out more about it later in life (not that much later) when friends of the family moved there — Herb and Jeanne Hoskins (whose son Richard was my age and in some of my classes at school).
Craig told me (years later) that I would run around the yard and dive into a pile of raked leaves shouting “Madison Square Garden!” — a phrase I probably heard on TV and like the sound of.
I have a few memories of an early residence in Norton, across the street from the Washington School (now the city library).
We lived on the west side of State Street in a large house. My family lived in the upper floor and the Sides family lived on the ground floor.
I must have been toilet trained because I have a memory of kicking on the bathroom door (I remember also that I had cowboy boots), and shouting at Craig to get out because I had too poop. My parents stopped me from kicking the door and tried to explain that I shouldn’t do that. I explained that I had to poop and Craig wouldn’t let me in.
Even then, I saw conspiracy theories.
I also remember a closet that had been child-proofed with the lock (maybe the entire doorknob) removed, so there was a hole in the door. I would get inside and stick my finger through, and cry “Mr. Pinker-nail-polish.” I think Craig would paint my nails, although I’m not certain of that.
Another early memory was a home called The Parsonage (I believe it had been the Methodist parsonage at one time), a brick house on North Grant Street and W. Wilberforce. Earl and Lorene Brehmer lived down the street from us. Although I don’t really remember much, I did get in trouble for biting Charla — but don’t remember why. If she’s reading this, please accept my apology.
That probably brings us up to the house at 312 West Street designed by my Dad and built by Pete Nickell. I remember Pete (or maybe his son Dennis) kept me busy by giving me a hammer and nails and a board to pound them into.
Yes — I remember Craig; and I’ll continue with some biographical tidbits soon.
Thanks for reading, and for keeping his memory alive.