Memoir Monday, March 29, 1959

 

March 29 , 1959  Sun

Got up early of course to get our Easter stuff out. Went out to Ray's to feed the critters. Stella is going to be more of a pet than Lil and Lou were. We actually caught Dinah. I sawed wood and worked a lot. I just felt restless. I reckon I am going to be the world’s biggest cynic. We cooked steaks down in the canyon. I had the most fun after supper reading poems etc. Dad asked me if I had one about Buster. Oh golly! I had to read it but I about died. By the way, Dale Robertson’s big horse looks like Rusty. Darn, I don’t want to go back to school tomorrow. Adios, Gaye

Back in the Dark Ages here --long ago and far away. I was almost sixteen and Charlie Mike was seven and a half. Alex was two months away from being born.  By this point I was taking on most of the holiday stuff having surrendered any pretense that Santa, the Bunny etc were 'real' but hoping the kids could have that fun for awhile. So I had colored eggs and put some treats in a basket for Charlie Mike to find. Mom may have helped--or not. 

We had sold the five miles I mentioned in earlier posts two weeks prior and had acquired two big sorrel Tennessee Walkers in part payment for the time we  had fed the five sold ones before they were picked up. I can't remember if the horses were already named or we did it but the two were Rusty and Tall Gal. We still had mules Stella and Dinah (Dynamite) and the mares Tina and Lady II plus the new mare and gelding. They were pastured out along the airport road at a PD property where Milt Ray was the caretaker so I called it Ray's. Buster was the foreman for the chap who had bought the mules, one good looking cowboy on whom I had gotten a large crush! And yes, I honored him with a couple of poems. Maybe I can find one.  (The original is longer, about 24 lines but this is the first stanza.)

The Throwback

Shoulders squared, you turn to meet life

Whatever they hand out, you'll take it .

Saddle in hand, spurs on your heels

Whatever they lead out, you'll break it. 

Face stern yet calm, eyes unafraid

Whatever may happen you'll face it..

Rope spinning high, horse on the run.

Whatever may take off, you'll chase it. 

The steaks were probably deer meat. That was our main staple for several years there and cooked outside they were a treat.  When you 'ranch' horses, mules and burros you do not have critters to butcher and eat! And what I meant by the 'cynic' remark I no longer recall but yes, I was getting much less prone to taking anything at face value and seeing only the good; I had learned not to trust too much--sometimes not any at all. 

I cannot recall Dale Robertson's series but it was a western although one I did not follow much. Still I had probably written and gotten a 'fan' photo and the horse was a big sorrel or chestnut with tall white socks and probably a blaze face. 

So the photos. The first is definitely Dinah. For some reason I was not happy; not sure why but that happened often enough. The second shot, I may have been riding Stella--not sure. So many of he smaller mules looked very similar! It is Louie's head anyway on the left. And the third is the deer I had shot in the fall 1958 hunting season so those steaks may have come from it. 

Memoir Monday, March 22, 1961

 March 22, 1961  Thursday

It started out to be a perfectly lovely day so I wore my peasant blouse and a full skirt. School went by quickly. I gave my book report in English and got a ‘one’ on it (as I expected) (Dig my conceit.) I didn’t feel so hot this afternoon. Maybe I am getting this flu. I played volleyball without much interest. Maureen and I rode the Bluebird down as usual. I got letters from Wayne, Shane, Jerry and Judy G. Wayne’s was on the bottom but I knew it would be there. My cards told me last night. Out to the pasture as usual but tonight I rode Stella home. I was really feeling kind of sick by then. Dad and I had a little set-to about catching Chip which did not help me much. I did the chores, came in, and played cards with Charlie Mike. Dad and I got our little argument settled. Wayne says he might come down muy pronto. I hope he will but I am afraid too. Oh well, he ain’t here yet. I kind of laid around all evening and didn’t study a bit. See ya tomorrow, “Doll”

Back in school for the spring term of my junior year. I was still not totally happy with it but in a way found myself between a rock and a hard place. It was either work very much full time as I had done most of the previous year or go to school--and still have quite a bit of work to do also.  I did know I would need that diploma to ever do anything with my life except fall into an ultimately miserable marriage to one of those "young and restless" guys I flirted with. That was fire from frying pan, I  knew. 

I'm trying to remember what peasant blouse that was. I loved the style and eventually made a number of them but I do not think I had yet gotten the pattern from a penpal friend in California. So I am drawing a blank--I don't remember ever getting one as a gift or buying one. It wasn't the sort of style Grandma Witt would have made. Full skirts she did make, often pleated and sometimes gathered. At that stage I loved full skirts and really did not like narrow or straight ones. I had my own ideas of style and what was 'cool' to me. And by this point, I had made several tiered full skirts--the 'squaw skirt' style--before that term became politically incorrect.  I guess we'll call them square dance style instead. Three tiers, and usually lots of ric rac or trim to add some flash. 

Pen pals were my main substitute for social life.  At that time Wayne, the Washington state rodeo cowboy, was my favorite of the several guys I was writing. "Doll" was his nickname for me which I thought was neat. Jerry was a neighbor of my grandparents in Kentucky and we corresponded for a bit. Shane was a bit older and had epilepsy or muscular dystrophy or something, basically disabled but a huge fan of 'fast draw' and western stuff.  I had several friends named Judy over the years--not sure who Judy G was. It was Judy C from whom I got the peasant blouse pattern. 

I played at fortune telling with a deck of playing cards and cannot now remember the pattern that would indicate yes or no etc. Was it colors, suits or specific cards?  So long ago--memory is hazy! Anyway I had an evening ritual of asking a few questions and 'predicting' what would happen. Probably it was wrong as often as right!

Disagreements with my dad were common. He was always on my case about how I was doing some of the chores and working with various horses and mules. He'd bawl me out; I'd get mad and sulky and do what I was ordered to but with ill grace. I was not always convinced his way was the best or right one! At that point I would usually apologize or make nice later though. After a few more months and years, that got much harder to do and did not always happen. He was not an easy boss to work for. 

A few photos; First is me holding two of the mules, Mindy on my rightr and Annie on my left. roughly the same time as this entry, Second is a shot from a play put on at Mingus--either '61 or '62. Anita Schwartz with Bennie Lovell and Jon Sollenberger. Third is Judy C (Couch) with a horse she was taking care of. And four, a couple of years later but shows a two piece outfit I had made with a peasant blouse and tiered skirt. This style was a big favorite of mine. 

Memoir Monday, March 15, 1962

 March 15, 1962 Thursday!

Yes, I should put an exclamation point after today. It began early, ended late, and was exciting in between. We rolled out before sunup and were on the road by 7:30. It was rather chilly for awhile but soon warmed up. We had to do some shuffling but were able to park close and get a go view of the parade. We saw it from start to finish, one and a half hours of bands, floats, riding units and prancing, strutting horses. I have now seen close up real parade horses with silver decked saddles and all the “pretties”. I think I like the Arabians best. The Phoenix JayCee parade is not the Rose Bowl but it’s sure a long shot from the Cottonwood Sheriff Posse. I saw the rodeo queen, Miss Rodeo America, a blonde trick rider whose name I forget, Art Miller, etc. etc. It was fabulous, wonderful, pathetic, ridiculous and ??? We drove down to the Utah horse dealer’s place and almost bought a pretty sorrel Quarter Horse type mare. I rode her some and she handled pretty good but we decided against her. There was a real pretty Quarter Horse colt, too. We did our other shopping and at last loaded hay. We got home about 7:30, did the regular chores etc. Give us about two years and we’ll have an entry of mules. That would be a cool ball. Darn, I can’t go to college next year.  I’ll miss out on too much. What the parade needs is novelty and authenticity, more than the Bill Williams Mountain Men. There is our opening. Well back to my cage tomorrow. Hells Bells. Maybe I’ll get a letter from Jose. I hope so. I think I’ll ditch school.

By this time I was back in school and  varied from enjoying to hating it. I'd gone through a serious rebellion in the fall of 1960 but had recognized I was going to hurt myself way more than any damage or grief I could cause mom and dad so I was pretty straight by now and planning to graduate college-eligible and with honors. . No social life--but I had hopes that would change after I finished high school. It didn't--that took four more years. 

I actually 'ditched' very, very seldom but did take some days away with family permission such as this one. We had to get hay, cheaper and better down in the Phoenix suburban area. That meant  a full load in the big flatbed Ford F-800 we had gotten the previous fall or between 3 and 4 tons pilled as high as was safe and legal. We made that trip to coincide with the Phoenix JC's annual rodeo parade. Yeah, to a backwoods cowboy girl that was pretty impressive!

Art Miller had a flashy palomino horse and about the most decorated outfit I ever saw--a mint worth of silver!!. He was a major parade regular and I had a photo of him for awhile. I think we had met him a time or two but cannot recall the circumstances. Not a crush for some weird reason but anyway...

We carried the idea of a parade entry with a couple or several of our flashiest mules 'someday' but like many rather over-the-top dreams that never came to pass. "Back in my cage" came from one of Jim McLarney's pet sayings. Although I actually dated  him a bit some years later, 1966-67, at that time he was one of my English teachers and I was maybe one of his and Ernest Gabrielson's pets since I could write and spell and even mostly punctuate decently and was not rowdy, dull or inattentive. They both mostly gave me good grades. 

Jose was my current favorite pen pal. I think I  have mentioned him before.

Hard to find pictures, at least new ones. I'll try.  Another pose of a photo posted previously from that season and a shot of Charlie Mike on Prez but showing the big Ford truck in the background. It was dark green and dad had built most of the rack on it to haul animals but it also did many other tasks like hay.

Memoir Monday March 8, 1959

 

March 8, 1959  Sun

Another day spent mostly in the saddle. We rode the mares over to Mickle’s to check on the mules. I’m sure glad that the shoes helped Lady so much. In the afternoon we went up to Ray’s to pull Lizzie’s shoes. I caught her and stopped the old heifer from running off. She nearly tore my hands off but I held her. All and all this has been a nice weekend. I guess I’m a man’s girl in a way because you see I like sports etc.  Guess I must go, Gaye

1959--I was a sophomore at Mingus that spring, basically bored with school and to some degree with life. I tended to live for weekends and getting out to ride . "Heifer" was a word I had adapted to describe some terms that were frowned upon at home if I spoke them aloud like slut and bitch. Charlie Mike and I were getting skilled at adapting words and making up some of our own. We both knew how to cuss fluently by this time but also knew very well that doing so in the hearing of our parents would bring sharp retribution. So we came up with place holders!

At that time we had animals farmed out at different locations and visited often to check on them and give any care needed. Within a couple of weeks we would see five mules sold and gone, Lizzie being one of them. We'd had her a year and she was generally well behaved but still had a few mulish tricks that you had to watch for. I had learned a lot about how to handle the equine and related critters since I got Tina, my special mare, in February of 1956. I was well on the way to becoming pretty much an expert horsewoman. Lady was actually Lady II, a mare we had acquired some months earlier from Bob Reeves. We named her in honor of our earlier mare, Lady I, although that might have already been her name. That I do not recall. Apparently she had gotten sore footed or lame and shoes helped. The mares would have been her and Tina. "We" I am sure was my dad and me. Mom was not a big horsewoman and also about seven months pregnant with our baby brother who was born that May and Charlie Mike was only eight at that time. 

I'd share more of the earlier time, say 55-57, except most of my entries were pretty sparse at that time and I was not discussing a lot of things. Journal keeping was still a new effort and I was thinking in terms of more traditional diaries where maybe three lines were provided for each day. It wasn't that nothing happened or I had no thoughts or emotional reactions, but rather than I did not write them down. 

Actually there were lots of fun things during that time when I was going to school at Willard Grade School in Bridgeport with my dad as my teacher. I started fourth grade there in the fall of 1953 when it was a two room school but it went to one room two years later when I as in 6th grade.  I liked the country school where jeans and even bringing a horse to school was okay! In my main memoir, a work in progress, I do go into that more. 

Photos: Dad riding Lizzie and working with Albert. They both were 'rejects' from the Grand Canyon herd that we got in the spring of 1958. This was probably mid-1958. Next I am riding Lady II and looking over the first large batch of mules we got at the end of August, 1959. And last, mom on Chindy (Tchindi) and me on Lady I in the winter of 53/54. My posture was much more relaxed than mom's even then.

Memoir Monday March 1, 1960

March 1, 1960, Tuesday 

Another day of this will drive us all insane. It wasn’t as bad outside as yesterday but the scattered showers kept us from getting outside and working. I kept busy on odds and ends and I did the usual chores. Charlie Mike and I went up to the library. I got to watch “The Rifleman. It was a good show tonight and reminded me just how much I’d like to meet a man like Lucas McCain. I was just born seventy five years too late but that can’t be helped I guess. Didn’t see Blondie today. He is a poor substitute for the kind of man I want but you’ve got to have somebody. Adios, Gaye 

This was the spring when I was out of school. I came to hate days when the weather was ugly and I could not get out and ride--that was a chance to be by myself, maybe see someone "interesting" (as in male over 15 and under 75!) and  avoid any lectures or boring long "talks" generally about what I should and should not do and how to do it and all that. My dad was a master of overkill on this! Ugh!! The regular feeding and stock care chores did have to be done every day and in cold, wet, muddy or windy times were not at all pleasant. 

I was certainly suffering with my "addiction to romance"  at this point and was frustrated with having little to no social life or even much in the way of substitutes. So I watched TV westerns, started writing to pen pals and read lots of novels! Hobbies like sewing, drawing and writing my early efforts at fiction and poetry helped fill the time. A prior essay on the 'addiction' is here: https://deirdre-fourds.blogspot.com/2019/01/memoir-monday-addicted-to-romance.html

Being a "cowboy girl" was fun in some ways but it was so far out of step with where the rest of the world was going at this point. That made it easy to feel like a misfit, often sorry for myself, and a bit mistreated by life in general. Of course that is a typical teenage thing, but from about eighth grade on, I was just not anything like my schoolmates and contemporaries and felt I had so little in common with them. Our family was basically poor and our lifestyle miles away from anything 'average' or typical. I often felt friendless, ignored or invisible, and believed for sure those in my age group were mostly laughing at me. 

In reality most were not, if they even thought of me at all, but at that time I'd heard or overheard just enough snarky comments to make me somewhat standoffish. I was always very shy anyway and the situation exacerbated that. You have to be a friend to have one; I did have a few but with many people I had no idea how to approach them or really why I might need or want to. Because of that, any boyfriends were mostly a bit older and girlfriends younger. "Blondie" was another nickname for one of my crushes at the time. 

Some pix from the era:  First is me, probably fall 59 before I quit school. Next is me as the typical cowboy girl I was most of the time at home and when not in school.  Three is the first batch of mules we got that were the ultimate cause of my quitting school. Fourth is Charlie Mike, then about nine, showing how gentle Beano was, one of the mules we acquired in the 59-60 period. Beano was sold to a trail riding lady in Louisiana and shipped there by rail!