Ask any customer of Cash Western Store in Seminole about its late owner, and they’ll likely tell you the same thing: he loved to talk.

Bob Berry, who passed away last month, could indeed keep his patrons occupied with conversation, but not of the rambling, yawn-inducing variety. He knew how to spin a yarn that captivated his listener, whether he was giving a history lesson on his beloved hometown of Seminole or giving a tutorial on life.

“I went in to buy a pair of boots, which I figured would take me only about a half hour to do, but I ended up staying much longer than I had anticipated, ” one Cash Western customer commented. “It took me only a few minutes to pick out the boots and for Bob to ring them up, but I was there for nearly two hours listening to his stories.”

Bob was also a prolific poet and was known for spontaneously reciting them on the spot, whether he was in the store or attending a community event. He also left behind a collection of poems in printed fashion, two of which seemingly foreshadowed his departure from this earth. They appear in their entirety below.

Ode to My Old Saddle Well, Old Saddle, ain”t gonna be riding you much more.

Last time I did, made my rump kinda sore.

I’ll just be riden this rocking chair, remembering the days when we didn’t have a care.

Done laid out our ole horse neath the Ole Oak Tree.

Sang him a song, Near My God to Thee.

I guess it won’t be long till I’ll be join’n him, and to me, they’ll sing some religious hymn. But for you, they’ll probably sell to some young cowpoke, and you’ll teach him how to ride and rope.

But for now, just set on that ole stand, and let me rock and play out my hand.

Crossing of the Bar

I can feel the setting of the Sun, and recount the many things that I have done.

I see the brightness of the evening star.

It lights my path for the Crossing of the Bar.

Memories flash across my mind, memories, memories, memories every time.

There is one thing I will share with you when I ascend beyond the blue.

There will be one clear call for me to meet the Man from Galilee.

Tale of two tall hats (from the Producer archives) There’s a tale or two in this ole store. And they’d be a lot more if this ole store could talk.

Take them old hats up there. They been settin’ up there overseeing things for a lot of years. They belonged to an ole Indian from Sasakwa named Doxie Woods.

I’d heard stories about Doxie and Homer a lotta years before I came in to them old hats. Seems as though Doxie and Homer was big buddies. Doxie use to come into this ole store and spend hours talking to Homer. Word is they would nip a little and I’ve heard tell that on an occasion or two, they did a little more’n nip.

Homer told me one time ‘bout’ goin’ to the Green Corn Dance in Sasakwa with Doxie. Said he had a good time. I heard from other sources, yea, he had a good time. Word is, that Irishman would get a little fire water in him and he could do them dances as good as any of them Indians—and kick higher. Them two had a good time and enjoyed “havin’ a good time”.

Now, back to them old hats. Robert Woods use to deliver propane out to the farm. I met him when he would deliver propane to my mother-in-law after Homer died. And he would come in to this ole store and buy a pair of boots ever now-n-then. But, when Doxie died, Robert quit buyin’ boots. Seems like Robert wore the same size boot as Dote and Dote left’um about 15 pair.

Anyway, one day Robert comes totin’ them old hats in to this ole store. Said, “Bob, I think Doxie would like these old hats to be in this ole store, so I’m givin’ to you”. So, there they set. Robert said Dixie must’ve bought’um some time about 1920.

⬤ Poems

Would you like to see’um. This’n is a black 3 X Stetson. See the gold stamp inside the hat band? For those that don’t know the X’s in a beaver hat tells its quality. Good felt hats is made outa beaver fur. Cheaper hats are made outa rabbit fur and the cheapest hats are made out of wool.

Now, this old 3 X beaver is about as good a hat as a 20 X now a days. It’s gotta five inch flat brim and an eight inch open crown; you know like Hoss Cartwright useta wear. You’ve seen Indians wearin’ these tall crown hats in the movies and I been told by some old timers that some of the Native Americans usta come to town wearing these old hats and a blanket around their shoulder and watch for the train to come in. Certainly an important part of Seminole history.

Didga ever see a hat that’d been patched? Lookie here. See that patch on the inside? And see where it was sewed on the outside? Good job.

Story is Doxie got shot at while wearin’ this old hat. He was runnin’ so fast the bullet caught up to him but couldn’t pass him. It went through the back of the hat but couldn’t muster enough speed to make it out the front. It was spent—just dropped down and hit’um on the head.

Now that’s a tall tale? Come by this ole store and I’m liable to tell you another’n.

Bobby Dean Berry was born at home in rural Stephens County, Oklahoma, on July 9, 1937. He excelled in football, earning accolades in high school and a scholarship to play at Southwestern Oklahoma State University in Durant, where he also completed his bachelor’s degree. In his senior year, he was elected student body president. On December 19, 1962, Bob married the love of his life, Patsy Jean Berry (née Griffith). They were married for 62 years until Patsy’s passing in August 2024.

Bob’s professional journey took him from Chamber of Commerce positions in Atoka, Wewoka, and Duncan, Oklahoma, to Wharton, Texas, and eventually into association leadership. He served as Assistant Manager of the Tennessee Medical Association before becoming— at age 31—the youngest Association Executive Director in the U.S. in 1968. He led the Oklahoma Dental Association for 34 years until his retirement at 65. During his tenure, Bob was instrumental in the passage of vital dental legislation and played a key role in the development of the University of Oklahoma’s School of Dentistry. In retirement, Bob embarked on a new venture as owner of Cash Western Store, which was founded in 1937 by his father-in-law, Homer Griffith. The store remained not only a successful enterprise but also a beloved local gathering place.

Bob passed away June 18, 2025. Upon hearing of his passing, one longtime customer-turned-friend shared, “They don’t make men like Bob anymore. His death marks, for many, the passing not only of a good man, but of an era.”

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