Most folks around the small town of Chillicothe know her simply as "Myna". With bright blue eyes accented by turquoise earrings, silver hair braided past her shoulders, and a gait slightly stiffened from a lower lumbar malfunction, this unassuming elder has almost single-handedly documented an entire era. "I'm on my way out", Myna recently stated to me, acknowledging her own mortality. Before she passes, though, she is poised to share it with the rest of Texas, if only we'll pay attention. In reality, she's been there all along, graciously accepting visitors from around the country.

While there are no billboards touting this local gem, it does still appear on most maps. It is one of those quaint Texas axioms - "you almost have to be going to Medicine Mound in order to get there" - that captures the persona of this authentic ghost town. Modest by Texas standards, the Medicine Mound Museum stands in a fairly small patch of land south of Highway 287, roughly midway between Vernon and Quanah in Hardeman County. And every Saturday around ten o'clock in the morning, you'll find Myna (Hicks) Potts in what was once the Hicks-Cobb General Store, dispensing concise history lessons to all that seek her out.

If it weren't for the nicely paved Farm Market Road 91 situated a few feet from the front doors of the Medicine Mound Museum, you could easily imagine yourself back in the early 1900's. Once you actually find Medicine Mound, the first thing you'll notice is the two cobblestone buildings. When a prominent family matriarch-turned-arsonist burned down the entire business district in 1933, two merchants had the foresight to rebuild with these large granite cobblestones "imported" from nearby Oklahoma - a form of frontier fire insurance, we presume. Myna was barely six years old then, but recalls the fellow that laid the walls was a local felon still carrying a bullet in his leg from a prior brush with the law. He just happened to be the best mason in the area, as evidenced by the walls that still stand straight some seven decades later.

The years have not been kind to the old W.W. Cole building nearby, which Myna likes to refer to as the "original strip mall". Over time, it has housed the village drug store, bank, post office, barbershop, and gas station. The remaining cobblestone shell is now guarded by a few rusting gas pumps, inhabited only by the occasional raccoon and assorted venomous critters. A stone's throw away, her father's old general store has fared somewhat better, but don't expect to find the elaborate exhibits seen in most big-city collections. The Medicine Mound Museum represents a collision of eras that generally defies description. A microfiche machine used for research stands in the back room near an aged bathtub filled with sun-bleached cattle skulls. There's a felt top hat once worn by actor Johnny Depp that somehow looks right at home on a female mannequin clad in a Depression-era girl's basketball uniform. Colored glass dishes, crudely fashioned Native American tools, and bobbin lace all share space with a flag that once adorned the coffin of a local boy killed in World War II, yellowing newspapers, row upon row of old books to absorb, and a sign in the front window that begs the question, "Where Did All The People Go?" As soon as you pass through the weathered screen doors, is becomes obvious that this is raw history, mostly unfettered by modern conservation methods. Myna likes to call the museum her "playhouse", yet a recent visit confirms it is a noteworthy slice of Texiana. After all, where else can you still sit around the stove and enjoy some "rat-trap" cheese and crackers with the proprietor?

Some famous names once prowled this land - Texas Ranger Bill McDonald, Chief Quanah Parker, Charles Goodnight, and others - yet the underdeveloped museum is testament to the common folks that endured the hardships of the frontier through grinding poverty, howling sandstorms, and a shocking lack of modern conveniences (electricity did not arrive to many of the outlying farms until after World War II). Myna has collected hundreds, perhaps thousands of photographs depicting these folks, many of them displayed along one wall of the museum for all to study. The first outhouse to be erected in the county by the Works Progress Administration still stands out back, perhaps the only "one-holer" in the state with its own plaque bestowed by the Texas Historical Commission. In the distance, four dolomite hills known as the Medicine Mounds rise from the prairie, now discreetly protected by a private foundation. Myna has somehow persevered all these years, assisted only by a few interested locals with ties to the land. In early 2006, a short visit to Chillicothe unintentionally sparked a transition.

For years, philanthropists and scholars alike had counseled Myna to seek non-profit status in order to garner funding and assistance to keep the museum intact into perpetuity. Sadly, no one seemed willing to confront this gargantuan bureaucratic task. Privately, we began to worry that should something happen to the founders, years of dedicated work and a significant slice of Texas history would be abandoned. We couldn't bear the thought of casting off a piece of my own heritage, so I said, "We'll do it for you, Myna." With that, the torch was passed.

And so, the Downtown Medicine Mound Preservation Group was carved from an unlikely consortium of like-minded folks. Consultation with experts has begun, and a master plan for the revival of this proverbial "phoenix of the plains" is underway. Myna may be on her way out, but the Medicine Mound Museum will certainly remain behind in some form, paying homage to a way of life many have never known. With an infusion of donations and expertise, the group hopes to bring rural Texas life to the masses, if only they'll pay attention. As if to emphasize that clash of eras, the group is turning to the power of the Internet to woo supporters. For more information, some cool stories, and detailed directions, you can visit their new web site at www.medicinemound.com. Myna will most likely be at the museum for a few hours every Saturday, sharing her passion for our past as she has done for over two decades. With a little luck, she might even serve up the cheese and crackers for you when you visit.

To collect, maintain, preserve, and promulgate the rural and frontier history of the former village of Medicine Mound, Texas in particular, and of Hardeman County, TX in general; to operate, maintain, expand, and improve the educational opportunities at the Downtown Medicine Mound Museum and surrounding properties; to engage and inform the public through the compilation, preservation, and exhibition of period artifacts; or engage in any other educational activity deemed appropriate by the Corporation.

Formed in 1997 as a private museum collection, transformed into a nonprofit Texas corporation in 2006. IRS Letter of Determination received in July, 2007.