When I would drive "airport road" I would always have a memory of a story that someone once told me. As the years had gone by I could not remember if it was true or if in my childish mind that is what I thought to be true. We lived on this road when I was about 10 years old and stayed there until I was 16. The farm site was owned by Floyd Boerner, and people in town called it "Boerners Hills". The drive way was a mile long with a curve to the North as you got up by the house. It was a beautiful place with the creek running along the whole piece of land and many hills for sledding. It had a huge red barn (which was taken out in the tornado of 1984), a corn crib, chicken coop, and a white shed with a large retail sign on it. At one time this had been a working farm with many buildings that housed alot of machinery that worked the land. When we moved out there it came with a St. Bernard dog! It wasn't real long that we had him and then Floyd Boerner came to claim him. There was a huge windmill with a water pump under it. The farm was only about 2 miles from town, 3 if you counted the drive way! If you would turn right out of the drive and go towards Glencoe, you would first pass the creek going over a small bridge. As you kept traveling you would go past the Catholic Cemetery, a farm place owned by Kickers and then on the East side of the road... there was this memory that I would think about through the years. It was a small, very old Cemetery. I have never stopped there but it is close to the road. A large old Oak Tree with many arms reaches out in all directions. Under this spreading Oak tree just to the left is a large head stone, with 2 smaller stones to the left, and 2 on the right.
In my mind this is what I remember... someone told me that the big stone was a mother and that the 4 small stones were her kids. I hear in my mind that they were all killed by the father and that one boy lived, that is who puts the flowers by the stone every year... he lives somewhere by Stillwater. The family lived on a farm just 3 miles west of Arlington, just past a house that my mind tells me was the "old one room school house". The house they say it happened is the same house my fourth grade love lived, Nickey Flemming.
Years later when I was 37 years old I worked for an older couple who lived in Arlington. George and Eva where a fountain of knowledge of things that happened in Arlington over the years. George was born, raised, and raised his family all in the same town. He was about 90 years old when I was sitting at their Island in the kitchen, talking about memories. I searched in to the webs of my memory and told him about this story that I am not sure if I made up or if someone had told me. I told him about the headstones under the spreading oak - just North of the Catholic cemetery...
and I'll be...
if George didn't tell me the whole story, filling in all the spaces of a memory that I wasn't sure was real - making it seem as though it had just happened...
you see,
there was this farm just west of Arlington, it was the place right after the old one room school house that has been changed into a home. The family who lived there were all killed by the father except for one child. They say he had married the woman, she was a widow with 1 child and they had four together. She carried on and carried on to that man until he just couldn't take it anymore. One morning he made breakfast and called them all downstairs to come and eat it... as each one came down he shot them - only one escaped the bullets and that was her son by another man. He took off through the fields heading towards Glencoe, running north west through the plowed land. People soon found out what happened as the oldest son went to the neighbors to get help. The law found him just this side of the Brewery Road. He was taken to Henderson and that is were they hanged him for his crime... admitting his guilt, wanting to die for his sin, there was no trial... just a large spreading oak in the heart of Henderson, with a rope.
These kind of things didn't happen in Arlington. I remember the cop as I was growing up being one of my best friends grandpa. He was kind to everyone and there was never much reason for him to get his arms about him, people were good. I think of this family often... wondering if that boy is still living. Is he in Stillwater? As I look at the flowers that I know weren't there last spring.
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