A MAN WITH A VISION, BY MY BROTHER, FRED ALLEN

ONE OF THE SMARTEST, GODLY MEN I HAVE EVER KNOWN. A TRIBUTE TO OUR DADDY BY MY BROTHER, FRED....

A MAN WITH A VISION

by Fred M. Allen

B. Fred Allen, my father whom I called Daddy, was a man with a vision. As a boy growing up on two different farms in Taylortown, located in southeast Lamar County in northeast Texas, I remember him in various capacities as farmer and rancher and provider, together with my sweet mother, Lorette, for a family of six children. The more I look back on those years growing up under his guidance and leadership, the more I came to appreciate him. The following account of some of the things he did attest to the fact that he was indeed a man with a vision and was willing to work hard to achieve them.

In the spring of 1956 when I was a senior at East Texas State University, now Texas A&M University, Commerce, I went home to visit with my family one weekend. When I arrived on Friday night, Daddy said, “Dick, (a name he often called me), I need your help on a project which we will do together tomorrow morning.” I asked what it was and he said, “You'll find out in the morning.”

After a hearty breakfast which Mama always served us, Daddy and I picked up a grubbing hoe and a shovel and began the one-mile walk through our 60 acres of cultivated land in which cotton and other crops were growing. We arrived at the southeast corner of our farm at a hair-pin curve in the Sandy Creek which ran through our property of 160 acres.

Spring rains had been falling in that area for several days and the water was rising at that time and had almost reached the top of the banks of the creek. Floods were frequent and often covered the farmland on which we grew crops to support our family. As we reached the hair-pin curve, he showed me how the movement of the rising water in the creek was slowed down as it hit the pedicle which turned the flow of water sharply to the east, causing much of the flooding of the crops as the water backed up and spread out over the area on both sides of the creek.

Daddy said, “For years we have observed the slowing down of the water which caused the flooding of our crops, but I believe we can either stop the flooding or at least reduce it by removing the pedicle which slows down the flow of water.” I said, “Daddy, how are we going to do that?” He said, “We'll use our grubbing hoe and shovel and cut a ditch across the 45-foot pedicle and see if the rising water will do the rest as it enters the freshly-dug ditch.”

We began our digging and, within three hours, we reached the other end of the pedicle. We had dug a ditch one foot wide and two feet deep across the pedicle. “Now,” he said, “let's see what the flooding water will do.” It was very hard work, but because of recent rains, the soil was soft which made it easier than usual to dig the ditch. We left the site to return for a delicious lunch (which we called dinner) which we knew Mama would have waiting for us.

A few weeks later I was home again and Daddy asked me to go with him to view the place on Sandy Creek where we had dug the ditch. I could not believe what I saw! The hair-pin curve was completely gone and the water flowed straight south without slowing down at the curve. The recent rising waters had run through the ditch we had cut and quickly removed everything in its path and opened up the pedicle to straighten the curve completely. The potential for flooding our land was greatly reduced. What a brilliant idea! We returned home with a sense of accomplishment which I shall never forget

This same Sandy Creek was in the news when, on April 15, 2014, my youngest brother, Duane Allen of the Oak Ridge Boys fame, was honored by the Lamar County officials by naming the bridge over Sandy Creek the “Duane Allen Bridge” in appreciation for the credit he has brought to the area through the use of Gospel and country music for many years. The road was also named after him.

When we bought the farm in the Taylortown community in 1944, Daddy had a vision that required action immediately. The house was very small for a family of eight, so he hired Mr. Fendley to add two bedrooms which were completed before we moved in. That solved our problem of not having enough space for everyone to sleep. Later he had a vision of how to get clean water for the family to use, so he hired a water well driller to come and dig a well at the bottom the hill on which our house stood, and that provided clean water for many years. Before that well was dug, we first used water from the cistern which caught water from the roof of our house; then, during times of drought, we had to haul water from the stock pond by homemade sled pulled by horses or later, the tractor, and a 55-gallon barrel which served the purpose until the next heavy rain came.

When rains would come in the spring and summer, Daddy could not work in the wet fields. Again, he had a vision. He realized that many acres of the farm were covered with bushes and small trees which were not serving any worthwhile purpose. So he began clearing the land with an ax on those days. He used either his team of horses or, later, his tractor, to plow up patches of Bermuda grass. Mama had made for him a bag to carry the roots which he separated from the clods of dirt. He cut a sapling down to use (one end had a fork) to force sprigs of Bermuda grass into the soil. This resulted in changing the useless acres of bushes into a meadow of Bermuda grass on which the farm animals could graze for years to come. What a vision!

Yes, Daddy was a man with a vision. He and Mama provided a very happy home for us six children which required a lot of hard work. Together they provided adequately for us and encouraged us over and over again “to have a vision, work hard to achieve it, and be the best you can be.” I will always appreciate them for that.

Not long after Daddy died in February 1988, my family and I were home on furlough from our missionary service in Zambia, Africa. One Sunday, as we entered the Cunningham Baptist Church where my parents were members, one of the leaders came to me and said, “Fred, come with me to the choir area and let me show you something.” Even though this new building was completed after both our parents had left us, it represented what they had done in the old building while they were living. As we walked up into the choir loft where Daddy and Mama had sung for years, James showed me the plaque which they had attached to the back of one of the pews on which was engraved a quote from Daddy which read: “I feel closest to God when I'm plowing, with family or singing.” What a tribute to a man with a vision!