“Your brother’s been asking for us to take him to a cemetery lately”, my mom told me. Naturally, this is an odd request from a nine-year old and it beats me why he was so excited to go to one, but as I had not been to Blanche Cemetery lately I offer to take him there as I will explain here in a bit. My mom, like any mother who has raised four boys, relishes at the opportunity to not have to deal with her kids for a while. So off we were on the road!

Must be fans of outdoor services…

Blanche, Nebraska isn’t on any map really, but to my surprise can be found on Google Maps if you search for Blanche Cemetery. To get there would be best described as “you know where you’re going”-type of directions. In fact, it hasn’t existed as a community for about 50 years and all that remains is a cemetery. Oh, and the cornerstone of the Methodist church that used to stand there until ’93. And some cement that the church stood on too. Now why would I talk about such an odd place? Well, today marks 17 years since my great-grandfather passed away, and Blanche was where he was born and raised.

Cigars were in style that year…

Arden Amil Harris was born April 21, 1921 in Blanche, Nebraska in northeast Chase County. For those who don’t know where that is, it’s quintessential western Nebraska about 40 miles south of Ogallala. Returning to the main story; “Doc”, as he was commonly called, served in the Army during WWII in the Pacific Theatre from 1942 until 1944 before illness sent him home. After the war, he married Gwendolyn Rowley (also from Blanche, a different story for another time though) in 1945 in St. Francis, Kansas and made their home in Grant, Nebraska for the next 58 years until Doc passed away on this date in 2003.

Yes, we had cars. You think we still got around with a horse and buggy?

From their house to Highway 61, it was roughly a half-mile walk along Road 761 just north of Grant. I think I remember most our family dropping us off when the weather allowed it and us walking barefoot to Papa Doc and Grandma Gwen’s house, to find all the men (Doc included) playing cards. Easter, Christmas, 4th of July, you name it!

Occasionally us kids were tasked with going out to the chicken coop and getting eggs (upper right-hand corner), and in later years Doc and Gwen switched to taking care of an emu. Yes, an emu! Their son, who lived in Ogallala, helped them to take care of it. Maybe someday I’ll find a picture of it and post it.

I’m fairly sure this photo was taken in the early 90s. Gwen is on the left, Doc is on the right.

Nearly all our family get-togethers were held in Grant until about late 2002. The annual family reunion, Christmas, Thanksgiving, pretty much everything and anything. There were always kids, and plenty of space to play outside except during winter when it was always more fun to stay inside. The women chatted, and the men played cards. When applicable, the Husker game would be on too. Yeah, we’re all big football fans. Like any and all good times, these good times weren’t to last.

Arden Harris lost his battle to leukemia on this day 17 years ago. My brother Tanner and I were really old enough to remember the funeral. It was at the local Methodist church in Grant at 5th and Warren, with the traditional Midwestern luncheon afterwards in the basement. I remember the drive to Blanche the most, with the country station out of Ogallala on the radio much like the day I took my brother Ryan to Blanche 16 years later (but that was a much warmer May day, I might add).

I think it’s important to know and remember where you come from, and that’s why I took my brother to Blanche that day (and to shut him up about cemeteries, too). My forefathers evolved to not have the prairie wind blow them over, and I guess I’m that way too. Let the winds guide me to where I need to go, but not blow me over while doing so.