Nathan Whitten:  

Note: This account will not be in chronological order and will contain some thoughts as well as facts. I will make a distinction between the two when it is not obvious. By virtue(?)of being assigned to teach College Algebra at SFA in fall '81 as part of my duties as a math grad student, I tought, but was not a teacher.I certainly had not planned on teaching. Both of my parents had careers in education and I figured that was the last thing I wanted to do. At this point, it was not a career, just a means to an end. Typically math grad students teach lower-level courses to earn the pittance a graduate assistantship pays. Some schools pay quite well, some don't. SFA falls in the latter category Rewind to May of 1980. Two weeks after graduating from SFA,I had landed a good job in Dallas as a statistician for a natural gas company. It took 1 phone call to an ad in The Dallas Morning News on a Monday. By Wednesday I had the job. The people that say a major in math prepares you only to teach are totally wrong. I liked the job and in some ways liked city life.I met some people who influenced me a great deal. Bill Withers, my boss,is one of the wisest men I've ever known. Duane Oliver, a co-worker,is a lifelong friend. Perhaps if it had been another city I would have stayed. I really did not like Dallas. I, as is my wont, followed the path of least resistance. There was a standing offer from SFA for an assistantship in the Math Department. So, in the summer of '81 I headed back to Nacogdoches, which is where I began this narrative.(Rewind to May,1975) The summer before my senior year at KHS, my older brother Alan and I embarked on a journey that took us through most of the western U.S. Along with our two dogs(Max and Cold),we travelled in a Ford Econoline van that we had fixed up for the trip. Dan Powell's dad helped us wire in my cassette deck (I never used 8-tracks) and he built a custom installation for mounting my 6 by 9 speakers.So with my huge collection of tapes,we were set to enjoy great sounds along the way. Alan thought of an ingenious way to store the stash I had accumulated:he put it in 50 lb dog food bags by carefully pulling out a few inches of the string that held the top together, then after storing all but what we would need for a week or two,he sewed the top back so that the package looked unopened. I had saved up about 1/2 lb of various kinds of high quality smoke,so we had all we could want and plenty to share for our 3 month Odyssey. We headed west and the first interesting place we encountered was Palo Duro Canyon (south of the hideously ugly city of Lubbock). To find such a beautiful site in the midst of the ugliest part of Texas epitomized encountering beauty when you don't expect it. We camped there for 3 or 4 days next to a small stream that ran through the canyon. I remember the clear,cold water that ran through it.We used it to drink and to bath in(not at the same spots). We explored the canyon undisturbed by others. Apparently we came at the time of the year when not many people were around. A group of folks do some sort of theatrical production there that many people attend; thankfully it takes place later in the summer. Next we headed to northern New Mexico. We picked up a hitchhiker(with a wolf pup!).When we let him off he suggested that we check out the Taos area. He did us a big favor by doing so. The area around Taos and the town itself(in 1975)were absolutely beautiful.We encountered a town unlike any I had ever seen. The square had countless little shops where one could buy inexpensive, but high quality, handmade clothing,jewelry,etc. I had some of the best burritos I've ever eaten, purchased at a place that sold simple, but delicious food through a window.I found plenty of places to sit down and enjoy my meal. We met some people that were part of a commune near Taos. I found their place to be interesting,as I did their way of life. We stayed with them for several days. I remember helping them hoe their garden as payment for the very simple food that they shared with us. It seems as if the meals always consisted of beans and rice.(Later in life, I have found that eating these basic foods are an inexpensive way to stay alive, although I really like to have a good salsa, fresh spinach,cheese and tortillas with them.) At that time of the year their garden wasn't producing any food,so there was nothing to compliment the staples. One of the guys that lived there took us to the gorge where the Rio Grande was a rather small,but fast running river. He directed us to a trail that led down to the river. It is a very long walk,as the trail winds downward several thousand feet to get to the destination. The reward makes the arduous trek worthwhile. One finds a series of hot springs, the biggest of which is walled in with handmade bricks to make a neat little room(no roof, although I think there had once been one)that has a pool of comfortably warm water in it. Oral history has this place as a stop on the route taken by stagecoaches that transported people back in the 1800's. Of course, the spring has been there for time out of mind. This site was filmed in the movie "Easy Rider." Fast forward to December 1984: My wife(no longer with me-her choice-she left me after 24 years of marriage and 28 years together)was pregnant,by accident,with the only child I would ever father. I was scared to death, since I did not consider myself to be capable of being a good father and I was quite sure that my spouse could not be a good mother. By choice, we did not know the gender of the child. As it turned out, that child would be (and still is)the brightest part of my life. Johanna Rose Whitten was born February 9,1985. But the story being related goes back to the previous December, as indicated above. I was a doctoral student in math at North Texas and had just finished the fall semester. My very pregnant wife had gone to stay with her folks in the comforts of their home in suburbia (Plano).I stayed at our humble home in Pilot Point(a small town located 20 miles northeast of Denton) with our 2 dogs: Cauchy and Chris. We lived in a house that looked very much like the set used for the TV show "Green Acres." The house was old, unpainted, with wiring that certainly not up to standards. The previous occupants had kept chickens in one of the rooms! We did not use that room. I boarded it off from the rest of the house and the odor gradually dissipated. A couple of poor quality space heaters provided the only heat for the house; fans gave us what little relief we got from the often oppressive heat. To this point, lack of heat had not been an issue. On this memorable day it was a balmy 75 degrees outside at 10:00 A.M. Then it clouded up and rained about half an inch. At the time, I began to witness something I'd never seen. The northeastern sky was dark blue, portending a radical change in the weather. I awaited the arrival of what Texans refer to as a "blue norther." I did not have to wait long. By 3:00 PM the temperature had dropped to about 25 degrees, consequently the rain that had fallen earlier was frozen solid. Shortly after 3:00 PM, the largest snowflakes I had ever seen began to fall heavily. The ice on the ground(and on the roads) meant that every single flake would stick. In less than an hour there was a foot of snow on the ground with snowdrifts covering the barbed wire(that's barb war to Texans)fences. Already very bundled up(note prior comment about the house), I put on another layer or two of clothing and the dogs and I ventured out into the hardest snowstorm I'd ever seen. They were feeling frisky at the unfamiliar sight and so was I. Being fully aware that I could become lost if I did not keep my bearings, we headed north into a hardwood forest that was bereft of leaves. The view was surrealistic(enhanced somewhat by smoke and beer). I cannot describe how neat it was. Less than half a mile from my humble abode, the dogs started yipping in an unusual manner. Cauchy could communicate with me by the kind of bark he used. This bark was foreign to me. Through the thick snowfall visibility was about 30 feet. I saw a bunch of canine shapes and the dogs headed toward them. I followed with trepidation. I was able to see 20 to 25 coyotes. I feared that my dogs would be injured but my fears were for nought. Cauchy and Chris started playing with the coyotes. This was about the last thing I had expected to happen. The coyotes did not seem to fear me, but they did start to leave the area we were in. Suddenly I realized that my biggest worry was having my dogs follow the pack and in trying to keep up with them, I could easily get lost. With the low visibilty, my usually good sense of direction was absent. Fortunately, my dogs' sense of loyalty to me was stronger than "the call of the wild." They reluctantly parted company from their new friends and came to my call. I then made my way out of the forest and headed back to the house. The snow was falling harder than ever, making it difficult to even walk, as it was now nearly knee high. Also I could not see the fences because they were completely covered by the drifts. I only had one to cross if I took the way back that I had come. Unfortunately, the falling snow had completely obliterated the tracks I had made. I had to guess and move slowly to avoid becoming entangled with the old, patched fence. I found the top wire and was able to cross without difficulty. The dogs managed to get through and we were headed for the "comforts' of home. Even the near worthless space heater seemed like a roaring fire-for a while anyway. Fast forward about a 8 months to August 1985. I had finished my 2nd year as a doctoral student in math at NT. My daughter had been born in February. I knew that the shack we lived in was no place for a child. Also, I was losing my enthusiasm for studying very advanced math. I did not earn much money as a graduate ass...Expand for more