Memoir Monday, Dec 26, 1964

The last post for 1964, the day after Christmas.It was not a Monday that year but a Saturday. My recollection of the actual Christmas is not  too clear. Apparently it was not a bad day. I was thrilled to hear I was going to get a phonograph; it had been ordered but not arrived yet. This was another of Mom's special trading stamp surprises. Things deteriorated a bit the next day, it seems, after no major kerfuffles on the holiday. Peace was too good to be true for very long.

Dec 26, 1964

I got up fairly early, fed, ate and saddled to ride. All was ok. I made a system of leaving the mares in the upper pen and riding out later to turn them out. Came home and got the mail. I got a beautiful Christmas card and a little Indian necklace from Dusty. I guess that is his reply. It won me. Heard from Judy too. Rode out leading Buzz to turn the mares out. I got Chief and Leo led too. The folks had another full scale go-around today. God, they are driving me stark staring. I really feel like taking off just to escape that. I guess I could get a job somewhere. Dusty would try to help me. Or I could go and work for Cim in Missouri! Mom and I drove out this evening.  Charlie Mike stayed to do the home chores. I wrestled Powwow around awhile. Eve’s curse hit me this evening and I really feel awful. The worry and strain is making me worse, no doubt. I guess I’ll go to bed. I tried to write letters this evening but didn’t get too far with them. I can dream about Dusty tonight and his card: “To you, Sweetheart. Merry Christmas” it said,  I can’t really believe that a guy like him could really love me but I have proof in my hand. “My baby’s got me locked up in chains,” What a fine frail chain, but strong enough to hold my heart. The most perfect gift and just right that I have ever been given. A couple of *very* special letters and now this--do I have any room for doubt anymore?   (2nd para?) The pen pals did not really know me, have not seen me at my normal unlovely self in my squalid setting, and thus were ’in love’ with an imagined vision as I had been with Jose Cazador. Somehow, Dusty looked past the squalor, the rags and tatters,the scars and strangeness and still says he sees not a muleskinner but an Angel!  That truly seems incredible.

I had begun a plan that required three trips to the pasture but mostly worked out well. In the morning, we fed the pregnant mares and the  Quarter Horses that were out there in the upper pen at the corrals. Then at midday I let them out or put them in the lower pen where the ditch ran through and opened the outer gate to let the rest of the herd in to clean up any feed left. That was reversed in the evening, often leaving the gate between open the two pens.

Of course the surprise card and gift from Dusty made my day. The card in itself was special but the gift even more. It was a tiny sun-face pendant on a very fine silver chain taped inside the card. It was so pretty. I wore it constantly for quite awhile, Eventualy the chain or its clasp broke but I did not lose the pendant and  have it to this day. I dimly recall I woke one day and it had separated but I found it all. The pendant is now normally on a much larger chain along with a crystal from a mine up on the Huachucas (below which I broke my ankle in April 1999!) and a tiny Apache tear. I detached it to get a picture. 

I have no idea what the parents were fussing about --the usual bullcrap that I ignored probably--but that had become such a common thing. It was not long before I was the receiver of many--more than previouly--nasty lectures and harrangues as well.  The next two years were brutal for that. 

For several years I had been suffering from severe monthly cramps. Later I learned that was mostly from endometriosis but then I had no idea, only knew I was torn by some vicious pains. A hot water bottle and many aspirins helped some, let me mostly be functional. I got little sympathy, though. Some from Mom at times but Dad basically accused me of whining and trying to get out of work. But other than a few abcessed teeth, those were the worst pain I ever suffered. My broken leg was truly not nearly as bad. And Powwow was the paint mare Susie's filly born that fall. She was rowdy!

Photos: The corrals from the bluff above. The lower pen is visible on the left side and the ditch below it. Next Tina, a month or two before her first colt, Bravo, was born. It looks like Bunny and Patsy--the two heads on the side.And then Patsy before she had Patrick, the same year (1964). I often fed grain in a feedbag to keep it from being wasted. I made them from empty feed sacks. No cost except my time to cut and stitch them by hand. Labor filled in a lot of expenses, one way or another. And last, the card and the little pendant. Yes, I have kept them all these years. 

t

Memoir Monday, Dec 19, 1964

As I said, 1964 seemed like a gray, glum, ho-hum ending. December was not 'nice' most of the time. I swung from happy to gloomy--kind of dependng on what came in the mail or didn't. Christmas had ceased to be a big deal to me but I tried to keep it for the boys. Charlie Mike was 13  and Alex was 6. 

Dec 19, 1964

I woke up to see a gray sky still--felt like laying low all day but didn’t. Got up and did the chores and ate. Dad want to see Julio; I made the mash etc. and Charlie Mike went up for mail. I got nothing at all.  We did our chores and went directly to Dead Horse Ranch. We nearly got stuck but we’re real pleased with the hay. When we got home we unloaded and did the noon chores.  Had pancakes for lunch. I spent the afternoon writing the rest of Cim’s letter--it is 24 pages again. I took a break and went to town with Mom. No more mail. I had Dusty on my mind all day, even while writing to Cim. I know who I love…! I wrote Dusty this evening and then outlined my article and now plan to combine them into a single piece of slightly more length. I believe I’ve got something going for me here. We may get our Christmas tree tomorrow. I hope I hear from Dusty on Monday. I was disappointed today. What do I want for Christmas? Guess!  To see my love, of course. Those pictures really hit a soft spot in me. I can just see that smile and hear his voice. Oh, Darlin’ Dusty, I love you so. 

The Dead Horse Ranch had been owned by the Irey family who put it on the market and moved.  It was about two miles down the back road--on the east side of the river--from the pasture.  A woman named June Parsons, who we knew as she was a friend of Charley Bryant's,  and a Mexican man I only knew as Julio were the caretakers and managed things until it sold after a year or two. We bought a good bit of hay from Julio and the quality varied. I think this batch was mostly alfalfa and pretty good.

I had been working on an idea for one or more articles about training young horses and mules and basing the methods on their personality types. There were basically four types. The #1 was very spirited and often a bit flighty but generally willing to work and learn fairly quickly. #2 was slower and tended toward stubborness; when they gave up resisting they more or less just quit but then would show less 'get up and go'. #3 was usually traumatized and tended to be very unpredictable; good one day and wild as a march hare the next.  #4 was maybe the middle-of-the-road between the very high spirited and the more phlegmatic and perhaps the best  to become reliable and a good worker. The exact same methods did not work eqully well on all four types and I wanted to bring that out!

I  had received several letters from Dusty since he left the 10th of November but still tended to lose some confidence or assurance of our connection or bond in between them. I have to remind you this was stilll all very new to me.  I had almost no experience dating or having a 'boyfriend' in my teens and high school days and was still very lacking in confidence about my own feminine 'charms' and potential attractiveness. I felt grubby, dowdy and very much a misfit in all but my cowboy girl role. I had two photos I had taken of Dusty a few days before he left and had gotten them back from processing. (Today's instant pix are so quick!) They were a talisman of hope for me. They brought to mind our numerous conversations. And as of this date, that was all there was to remember. Words and smiles and some long, intense looks shared. A fairy tale romance? Not quite but I was hopeful for I'd never been in this spot before. 

Photos to illustrate: Three critters I would have used to illustrate the types. Tina--she was basically a #4 but leaned toward the #1. Very energtic and willing and she and I had  perfect rapport. Beano was a #2 but not too balky or stubborn. He was sold to a trail rider in Louisiana who loved him. Patrick was a #1 and very senstive but had a streak of 'common sense' as did most of the colts of our Appaloosa stud, Yavapai Chief. It took me about a month the next summer to have Pat working like a champ. And then Dusty-- in work clothes on a Friday afternoon, one of the times we talked and talked... It was Oct 30, 1964. 

 

Memoir Monday, Dec 12, 1964

It seems the weather was not very nice all this winter.  I recall more snow, lots of rain, a few super cold snaps and just generally Nature throwing crap in my direction to make caring for the animals harder and more difficult than usual. I had little to spend for Christmas so tried to make most of the gifts I gave. Drawings and other art, poem 'books' all hand printed and stapled together, some with pen or pencil drawings and of course sewing projects. I made Christma cards too for perhaps a dozen or more special friends.

Dec 12, 1964

I woke to a gray sky and said “Ugh.” Fed etc. Charlie Mike and I saddled up and rode out on Annie and Buzz. The latter was frisky. The sky cleared and it became a lovely day except for the wind. No important mail-sheesh. Dusty, I am mad at you! I led Lyno and Chief just briefly and then rode Leo. He was pretty high; he didn’t do anything but sure made me edgy for the ride. I was glad to quit. After lunch I went bike riding for a bit. Haven’t ridden in weeks but I still remember how. That’s nice. I patched saddle pads some, not a pet job but necessary. I guess I’ll mail Xmas envelopes to Dusty and Cimarron tomorrow and return the record album on Monday. Another ughy job in a way (the last.) After evening chores were done I made a poem book for Cim. I hope he likes it. That project plus washing my hair took all evening. It is now a very late bedtime. I must do some sewing in the next few days. Letters are off and out ‘til after Christmas except for my three “heroes” and any real emergencies. Tomorrow is bath night but I’ll get a start perhaps. Not much riding etc. tomorrow if I can help it. Don’t plan on it, anyway. I may go to church but doubt it. Will worry about that then. Better luck on mail next week. I should hear from Cim on Monday.

In two more days I would receive another specal letter from Dusty but waitng between them was very  hard. I normally rode up for the mail but Charlie Mike got it at times. The folks rarely did--much to my relief. Dusty had expressed concern that others might read his letters but I assured him that was not likely and to this very day, I don't think anyone else has ever read anything he wrote to me. So he began to write a little more freely and though still not really romantic or flowery, did express more of his feelings.  

As fall went into winter I was riding both Buzzie and Leo and they were coming along well. They both needed more training and 'wet saddle blankets' as Charley Bryant said, to complete making them into reliable mounts but it was progressing well. I still did not ride Chief yet but I surely could have. He was a well broke saddle horse, really. Lyno was a bit more edgy and she did buck a few times but mostly due to what I felt was provcocation. Although he in his big saddle was too heavy, Dad did ride her a few times and she was not happy.

I had joined the RCA record club even though I did not yet have a record player; that came soon, as another of Mom's trading stamp projects. RCA had a program to give one free record for each two bought. At times I would get too ambitious and order one or two and then be unable to pay for them so back they went. That was sad to me but I still built a fair collection, very eclectic too! The Ventures, to Chet Atkins, to classics and operetta, to Marty Robbins and Jim Reeves!

I still went to church with Evelyn (Graves/Morales) now and then. She lived several places other than with her parents up the street while she waited for Albert to get established in a permanent job so they could get married. Many times I wished I could live elsewhere too but that was not possible for lots of reasons.

I was still dithering over Baird (Cimarron) and Norm (Smoky) but edging closer toward stopping that correpsondence. Over halfway through my main Cowboy Girl stint now but I had no idea of the duration at this point. It looked to go on forever though the seeds of destruction were well planted and growing like weeds. I knew but mostly chose to ignore the omens. That familiar rut led on and I followed it. 

Again photos are scarce. I may have one or two of critters and one of me or Charlie Mike that fits in this era. Some are probably repeats but break up the text a bit. Okay, me holding one of the QH  fillies --looks like Lyno who was the light reddish dun one. Next is Lyno under saddle.  I was probably riding her by now. Charlie Mike 'play acting' though we often felt like we ought to go on strike but there was no ranch hand union to help us! Finally Charlie Mike with one of the bikes. He found parts (some may not have  been lost!) or got beat up bikes other kids dumped and I helped him cobble them together to be rideable. At times we had two but usually only one had tires that held air or was fairly safe with a sound chain, some brakes etc. Of course we could not afford a nice one.

 

,

Memoir Monday, Dec 5, 1964

The momentuous year of 1964 was nearing its end even as 2022 is today.  Life was so complicated for me at that point. This was before Dusty's existence and presence in my life became a major family issue --I think for the time being they assumed he was gone, out of sight and mind, and I'd soon find a new crush as I  had for many years. But this was so very different. Oh, the family rows would shake me up for a time and the enmeshment issues would jumble my private thoughts and assurances for a few days yet I always went back to being and thinking mostly "me" for the most part.

Dec 5, 1964

I got up at 7:00 or so and did the chores. We weren’t in a great hurry today, The folks went up to get mail and groceries and Charlie Mike and I got the truck ready to roll. I got a letter from Baird, a reply to my long letter, which I read and reread over and over again. It was a very kind, touching and understanding letter. He said it would be best to let Dusty go; yes, that is basically true and I’ve known it all along but actually doing it is something else again. Not sure how to respond. So we went to the pasture and did those chores and then went on to Camp Verde. That old Gemlin is a fink. He made us weigh the truck and then gave us all the moldy bales he could find. We felt like throwing a fit but couldn’t then. He doesn’t know what he is in for, though. Got home about 12:30. The folks took Alex to the parade while Charlie Mike and I unloaded the hay. That was a brutal chore and I was exhausted when we were through. We had to cut some wood and then did the evening chores, getting done early for a change. Then I wrote a letter to Dusty, the rough draft. I will wait for the reply to my last two before I finish and mail it. I am going on the theory that if you ask for the best in people, you will get it. I shall see if that works. So far he has never failed or disappointed me and I don’t think that he will now either. I am going to chance it, anyway. This is as close as I can come to doing the “right” thing. Then we got into a large family row and it was a doozy. But perhaps something was accomplished. I was all ready to take off and leave this very afternoon but I can never do that. So unless I find someone who will fit in, I shall be waiting forever. I do not know if they could ever accept Dusty for that matter. Norm? Possibly, maybe even probably--if I can. That no doubt remains to be seen. I love Dusty sincerely but perhaps I am too complex a person to belong wholly to any one. I certainly feel a real affection for LBC (Baird) and a considerable liking for Norm too.  No, I am in no hurry. That is best beyond a doubt. Tomorrow I may go to Maureen’s and must write at least a note to Baird. It is now 1:00 am and I truly must be off to bed.

All the usual 'stuff' went on of course. I had eight or more hours nearly every day of work that had to be accomplished. Though in school, Charlie Mike worked right with me all the free time he had. Getting hay at affordable prices was a big and constant concern. I despised this man in Camp Verde  and considered him a nasty, chisling old codger, which he was, but there were not that many small farms selling hay as winter approached. Beggars could not always be choosers. I agonized over feeding inferior fodder so many times. 

On December 3 I had gotten a second letter from Dusty, this one signed "All my Love, Dusty. It was the first time he used the L word and I was elated but also still a bit troubled, especially with the matter of Baird and Norm still "in the running" so to speak. The awareness that I really could not in clear conscience simply walk away from the folks and all the agonizing troubles sat heavy on my mind and heart. The eldest daughter's need to do what was right and required was an exacting master.

Exactly what I said to Dusty I cannot recall but I was not willing to go anywhere close to a dear John letter. Yes, the fact he was still legally married weighed heavily but I did not feel I was becoming a home wrecker or really doing wrong to care for him. The strict and unbending standards I had been hammered with for twenty one years would not release their influence yet but more and more I saw the fallacies and disconnects in what I was told to believe and do and what I saw happening everywhere I looked. My Dad had double standards out the gazoo! (Sadly both Charlie Mike and I find so many uncomfortable parallels in his behavior and that of certain political figures today.)

Photos that fit this time are scarce. I will see if I can find something not yet used more than once! Okay so Charlie Mike gets featured this time. He was my right hand helper and for a kid just 13 or so was responsible and worked very hard. Lord knows I appreciated all he did. His aid let me survive. The first one is with a donkey foal and probably in January 1964. The next he is holding Buzzie, my little sorrel QH mare with our big stock and hay truck in the background, probably '64 also. Then he is posed with the puppy we named Ringo--actually always his dog--but with the family until the early fall of 1967. I would guess this was maybe '63 --not sure. Looking back, this poor kid was almost treated like a step child from about the time he got over the broken leg  until he left home years later. I do not understand why at all. We both endured a lot but I know now he more than me in many ways. Thus the ragged and outgrown clothes etc.  No wonder he is bitter today, but not at me, for which I am very thankful. 

Memoir Monday, Nov 28, 1964

 I finally got Dusty's first letter on November 24.  It was not at all 'romantic' or mushy but very matter-of-fact, talking of deer hunting and the weather causing bad roads and such. He did say he missed me and began using the nickname he gave me of "Angel." I have probably said he put me on a pedestal in a way and that reveals it. The next letter he took to going by "Dusty" as I always addressed him, but this one was signed simply "yours always, Charles."

Nov 28, 1964

I get lazier each day and slower to drag myself out of bed. For shame. Did my chores, ate, and Mom and I drove out. Got back a 10:00. I saddled Annie and went up for mail. I got only a letter from Baird. His letters are too nice; I like him too well and I’m foolish to do that. Baird and Norm will both be hard to answer this time. I led Chief and Bravo. Bravo was smarting off so we worked and worked on him, then brought up Dingbat and did the same. They sure were ornery but I like Bravo best. Took a couple of pix of each of them. So it goes. We did “noon” chores at 2:45 so we no sooner had lunch than had to get ready to go to  the pasture. Sheesh, The evening chores were done early. I spent the evening trying to write to Cimarron (Baird). I can’t send what I wrote though. Wish I could drop two of these guys. Three is just a crowd. If only Dusty were really available today, he’d be quite enough but for now he is not. He is probably home now--although he told me he sleeps in Johnny’s room when he’s there--and heaven help him if he is thinking of me. And heaven help me for thinking of him. Oh Dusty, what shall, what should I do?

The work went on. We had brought both Bravo,Tina's son, and Dingbat, Peppy's colt, home and I was starting some basic ground work and such with them since they were about eight months old. Bravo was mostly good but he was a colt and a young stud at that so now and then he felt his oats a bit. I do not recall what he was doing but of course Dad determined some serious discipline was required. And I do not recall those details either. It was not quite the full "bad mule" treatment anyway; that would have upset me a lot. Both colts were generally good and not at all mean or stubborn. Gentle handling worked much better in my (unspoken) opinion. I was partial to Bravo, of course, and he did seem to catch on a wee bit quicker but Diingbat was no dumbie.

Baird was one of the two main pen pals I currently corresponded with, as I have said. He was older and lived in Missouri, an epileptic and not able to work etc. He was divorced but had a young son that he was devoted to also and got to see the boy quite a bit. With my nickname penchant, he had become Cimmaron and Norm was Smoky. I was still being torn with a need to keep faith with Dusty but also to have a failsafe escape if it got too bad. I knew Dusty was seperated from his wife but nothing formal yet and he was desperate to stay as close to his son as possible. That meant he went back to Kingman two or three weekends a month as a rule. I got the sense it was often not pleasant, though.

Photos, of course. I found one of Norm; I'll try to scan and save it to add. And the others are Bravo and Dingbat as Charlie Mike and I were working on them. Okay, Norm first. He had recently gotten out of the Air Force. He was not handsome but not bad looking. I never had a photo of Baird. Next two of me with Bravo and then one of Charlie Mike with Dingbat and one of Dingbat by himself. They were closer to the same size than these pictures make them look. Bravo was bay and Dingbat sorrel

Memoir Monday, Nov 21, 1964

Life went on, winter settling in for what was going to be a rather harsh one. I was, as always, mostly occuppied in the cowboy girl tasks and routine. It varied little from day to day except for rather frequent and sudden changes of plans, often seeming inexplicable and mostly instigated by whatever tear or track our boss was on at the moment. Said boss being Dad, of course. There were times I was so angry and upset that I could hardly write a word that acknowledged him as my male parent and he'd be referred to in my journal as The Old Man,The Boss or something similar. Often I did not mention him directly at all. For most of the next two years the relationship was especially rocky. 

Nov 21, 1964, Sat

It still is chilly early but once you get dressed it’s okay. The chores weren’t too rough-- and finally up to the PO--a mailer from Judy, letter from Norm but nothing from Dusty. That hurt; will he write or not? Whatever; I won’t fight to keep him. If he doesn’t write, I’ll never write again except possibly a note when we move. But it hurts, because I do love him. We went down and got hay from Gimlin  and some groceries at Wingfield’s. Got home at 2:30. After a late lunch  Charlie Mike and I cleaned pens and we did all the chores early. When we came in I sat down and wrote to Norm. He is or seems to be practical and ‘useful’ so I can’t afford to let him go for now. We got two six packs of pop bottles and can sell them Monday. I’ll need the dough though. And we get our loan on Monday, too. What we do tomorrow I don’t know yet. We never know ahead of time. These problems of where to go and what to do are so hurtful. And now I have my own problems of which one…I hate to hurt Dusty and I do love him and I think he loves me but…how can we ever work things out? If he does not write, he’ll lose me for sure. Because Norm is available. All I have to do is play my cards right and I can be married to him anytime, almost. Maybe he’ll be a creep though. And I know Dusty. That’s the trouble. If only he were really free right now. I love him so much, too "mutch.”

It had been only ten days since B&B 6 and Dusty had left Clarkdale.  Looking back I cannot sympathize too much with my impatience. He was setting the outfit to order at a new location and getting organized on a new project. I know it was mainly an addition to the depot or related buildings at Williams, a project much better done before the winter set in since it involved building block and cement walls--pouring concrete in freezing temps was a hard task! I can just excuse my earlier self by saying I was truly heels over head in love for the first time and had made him the center of my private world for several weeks. Then that abruptly ended. I also had little confidence that I "deserved" the attachment or affection he had expressed and the promises to stay in touch that he had made.

Once again the ubiquitous 'ranch hunt' was up on the radar and this always caused a major upheaval with endless discussions of what or where the right place was and what everyone had to do to make it work out. To me it got actually scarier every time as I began to visualize being endlessly bound to a property to which I had --at least supposedly--pledged my self and my soul to work and work and work at a pace that made my normal day to day 'chores' seem like a picnic! Indentured servitude!! It would be way out in the boondocks and the possibility of ever going to college, having any social life or moving ahead with my other interests was as remote as flying to the moon by flapping my arms.

With that nagging at me, I was not ready to stop writing to Norm. I had a strong hunch if I phrased it  right, he'd manage to help me get a bus tiocket or other transportation to his place in California and we'd get married. That was a kind of escape hatch I could not permit to close for awhile despite everything else. Yet I still felt a bit of guilt or regret I was not being loyal to Dusty in going on with that. I've mentioned my sense of loyalty--it has been a big value or virtue to me most of my life.

It sounds strange now but that two six packs of pop bottles seemed like a treasure--Charlie Mike and I could turn them in at the Coffman's store and collect the deposit of a few cents each--a way to mail some letters and maybe he'd have a pittance for some school need. As had become customary, Mom and Dad existed on loan after loan, some secured by the 20 acres down below Bridgeport and some managed with promises and bullshit.  It was such a totally bassackwards way to try to get anywhere!! 

That "mutch" was a Dustyism. As I've said, he was a high school dropout and a bit dyslexic. He knew the sounds of most letters and their combinations but didn't always get them quite in line with the offical spelling and grammar. I was not poking fun; I thoughht it rather endearing. That had appeared in one of the notes he had given or sent me during the two months of our acquaintance. I did not know right then but the awaited first letter would arrive in three more days.

Mostly old photos--just so there are some! A different view of leading Chief with Annie. We did take him in the trailer at times but I often led him to the pasture when we were checking which, if any, mares were in season. Next is old Prez, a pic I do not think I have used before. This was out at the pasture at one of the stations used for feeding supplemental grain and such to the loose animals. Finally a painting I loved at first sight.  Not me or a horse of mine and I went to the Post Office to get my mail but the eagerness to read a special letter felt so true. The artist is one of my favorite modern western painters, Jack Swanson.  I'd love to have this to hang on my wall today!

Memoir Monday, Nov 14, 1964

The final--for awhile--goodbye with Dusty had come on November 10.  It was hard but did cement the relationship, at least to my perception. I actually got the first promised letter in two weeks but went through impatient agony before that.  Of course I wanted it at once, which was surely not reasonable! We did not see each other again until nearly the miiddle of January, and then not again until Memorial Day. Work kept him at distant places.

Nov 14, 1964, Sat

I got up at 7:00 and went out wearily into the chilly morning to do my chores. It was clearing. I led Chief out on a rather frisky Annie mule. Johnny went into the corral, cuss him, so we had to work on the bastard. Ugh. That took awhile too. Finally we did the regular chores and I headed  home. I was just after noon getting here. Cuss. I rode up for mail and tore through the box. Another letter from Norm. It was a nice one but made me worry. But he sent me ten stamps, the doll. I watered all, led Buzzie and fed. We came in to lunch at 2:45. I managed to write a letter before we went off for grain and groceries.  So I mailed three. We did the evening chores as hastily as possible because it was cold. This evening we had Charlie Mike’s birthday supper and it was yum. Afterwards I got three letters done including one to Dusty. So tomorrow evening I get my articles going maybe and maybe write to Norm again--I don’t know now. See how I feel. I got a heap of chores planned for tomorrow. So it goes. I’ve just got to live until mail time Monday now.

The weather turned ugly before mid-November that year. We had a cold, wet spell of the sort that always made the "chores" close to agony. Charlie Mike reminded me the other day of the leaky old rubber boots we wore often to feed and clean pens etc. in bad weather and how cold our feet got. The boots themselves were uninsulated and when water seeped in, it was really unpleasant. Complaints were futile so we endured. So much of our life was that way for several years.

Johnny was a new mule. A few weeks prior, Dad had traded Little Red, who was a small and not good looking mule but very gentle and well behaved for a couple of half wild critters. The big red jack or john mule was named John Harvard and the molly we called Peachy. He was sorrel and she was a kind of rusty dun color. He was one bad piece of work and at times pretty scary to handle or work with. He was flat mean. I have no memory of how he finally ended up. She was caught in a bad situation almost two years later along with some other animals. That may be covered later. 

As I mentioned before,  I was becoming torn about Norm and Baird, two pen pals who I had gotten rather attached to before all at once Dusty was on the scene.  Now assured that he did want to keep in touch and truly did care for me, I was in a quandry. Norm had already hinted  maybe he would be proposing before long and I considered Baird a kind of big brother or good uncle, a friend and somewhat a confidant. I think I mentioned he was seriously epileptic and thus disabled but he always seemed really sweet and level headed. I tend to form very deep and fierce loyalties, even to this present day, and the situation at this point was stressing me because of that. The articles were a series of pieces on training colts with different disposition types that I hoped to sell to Western Horseman  magazine. In time I got a "nice" rejection letter; that result became very familiar as I started to write seriously years later. It is a long, hard road to being published, believe me!

Charlie Mike was thirteen that day, and we did celebrate but no photos, which had stopped some years previous. I have no idea what the meal was or even the cake. He always like blueberry flavored things but that is not an easy cake ingredient so it may have been applesauce, a family favorite, or maybe just a yellow or white cake with caramel or vanilla frosting. As for the main course, probably roast beef or perhaps fried chicken. Mom was a good cook and she worked hard to make festive dinners for us even if the larder was not very full. I thank her for that in retrospect. I often did not give her enough credit. I felt she did not stand up for us enough when Dad got mean but she did dozens of things to try to make life better for us. She was not always treated well either.

Photos? A few kind of fit. The first is a snowy day but probably a year or two earlier, Charlie Mike ready to go to school. Next is Charlie Mike with the Ford pickup, probably the summerof 1964.  Next is his school picture from 1963-64 . By this point he had gotten a hard angry attitude for a number of reasons and his eyes show the defiance he felt. He would not smile. Last, the corrals at Clarkdale in a snowy time, likely that fall or winter.

Veterans' Day Thoughts

 Veterans’ Day Thoughts--Nov 11, 2022

 I feel almost broken today. For most of my life, surely all my adult life, I have felt I was patriotic. I love my country whether or not I favor any current government. I am a “nationalist’’ and also a staunch supporter of the military, especially our veterans. I worked for the army and air force for twenty five years, seeing their flaws, but never ceased to respect them. As a VFW Auxiliary life member, my money goes ahead of my mouth there. The old saw “All gave some and some gave all” does not feel like a truism to me; it is a Truth in the deepest sense. However, today I am almost embarrassed to call myself a patriot. Several important labels I want to claim have been preempted by a group of false prophets to throw a concealing ‘flag’ over their nefarious schemes and plans. I do not want to be mistaken for one of them.

 I am deeply saddened to see how many people who I have long considered friends and always held in deep regard and respect have been mislead by these same false prophets. They have tragically become seduced into idolatry of a “golden calf” to a degree that leaves them blind and brainwashed, unable to see truth and good buried by lies and deceptions. I have to feel pity as well as horror over what I perceive.

 The real traitors are not the ones those ‘leaders’ deceitfully label as such. To wit, a current candidate for Senator in Arizona blatantly scorns and denigrates the military and says that our country has never participated in a “just war.”  A candidate for governor wants to secede from the United States and make Arizona an independent nation. A candidate for Arizona Secretary of State, which is the official charged with overseeing and managing elections, is a self- proclaimed member of the Oath Keepers and was admittedly in Washington DC on January 6, 2021 with intent to violently reject tradition, constitutional law and historic practice.  While he apparently did not enter the Capitol, he was there to aid, abet and encourage those who did. Why he has evaded any charges I have no idea. All three have never served in the military they so scorn and the two men probably could have emulated their idol (that golden calf) and managed a 4F status by ingrown toenails, crooked teeth or similar “defects.”

 What have we come to? I am past shock and disgust. I did vote yet had to choose the lesser of evils in many cases. I have been Conservative most of my adult life and still subscribe to most of the ideas and tenets of that group. Unfortunately, the old Republican party of Goldwater, Reagan and others has been prostituted and contorted into something far different. I do not call this new movement Republican. Let them wear other labels that fit closer--“Christian” nationalists, neo-fascists and white supremacists. How can they dare to call themselves “Patriots”?

 I still believe in less government intervention in almost all aspects of our life and national posture; I do not feel throwing vast sums of money at a problem does anything to ‘fix’ it; and I do not think reverse discrimination is the answer to the problems US minorities and ‘people of color’ continue to struggle with. In short, it is mostly reinforcing the idea they are somehow “inferior” and cannot make it on their own! So I am not at heart a Progressive or Liberal and shall not be one. But the New Alt-Right is NOT my home either. The one-time ‘party of the people’ (Democrats) has become as much or more the party of the powerful and affluent as the old business and free enterprise party (Republicans) has ever been. Working people now have no champion. Oh, we are given lip service in the pursuit of votes and control, but it is completely hollow.

 So today I am torn and sad, feeling very disenfranchised and homeless in a political and ideological way. Perhaps as my grandfather said when approaching his 100^th birthday in 1997, I have lived long enough. Maybe even too long. Many days I feel like a dinosaur and totally out of step and out of place in this 2022 world. What is there to live for, look up to, revere and believe in today?  I find no answer. There are still many good people who do their best to be courteous, caring and compassionate--but few to none of them run for office. They would never be allowed to win and would be crucified in the meantime. 

Memoir Monday, Nov 7, 1964

 I got a slight reprieve on B&B 6's departure date. I had sent a note to Dusty by Charlie Mike early Thursday, Nov 5. I was afraid we were going to make a trip on Friday and that would be their last day. He met me in the canyon shortly after lunch where I had one or two animals grazing.  He told me the outfit would be pulled out by the Local (the Prescott Local which usually came Tues and Sat.) when it came Tuesday and that would be their last day here. Anyway, we got a good hour or more of talking and I was reassured we would not say a final goodbye that day or Tuesday.. He wanted me to write, giving me a Santa Fe address, and promised he'd answer. We stayed clear of the L word and anything of committment, but I felt sure this was not the end.

Nov 7, 1964, Sat

I got up at 7:00 and did the home chores. I led Chief out and we bred Susie, put “Dingbat” in the trailer, did our regular chores and cut a little firewood. And finally came home.We worked on that little red colt and he learns darn quick. We put him in with Bravo and Junior and they seem to get along okay. I watered everyone, did the noon chores and ate. Then took Chief and Annie up the canyon. I wrote a bit on the “unfinished story” and rested. Charlie Mike ran up and got my letters--Mary Corley and Ray Ary. At 4:00 we put the stock up and loaded equipment to go doctor Dynamite. She has been sick for several days with an apparent chronic colic. She was actually fairly docile about it all. Hope she pulls through it okay even if we have never done much with her. She’s been here a long time. I spent the evening writing a final letter to Dusty. I don’t know when I’ll give it to him and my little trinket, but I will. Wonder if he’ll come back tomorrow afternoon? Maybe. But I’ll see him on Monday and/or Tuesday for sure. He said he’ll be around on Tuesday afternoon. He wants to say goodbye as much as I do. Dearest Dusty, I’ve all but confessed now. I’ll tell you I love you at least in this letter, and then maybe you can tell me something besides “I think too damn much of you under the circumstances.” My dearest Dusty, I do love you.

This Saturday was a normal busy day with stock work. It was still mild but a hint of winter coming was in the air. Not there yet, though. To refresh my readers' memories, Chief was our Appaloosa stallion and Suzie the paint mare we had acquired with him. She had foaled a paint filly the previous late winter that we named Ginger. Ginger was now weaned and I think at Clarkdale. Dingbat was the six month old  colt of the mare Peppy we had acquired in September from Gallup NM. He was semi-weaned when he came, and it was time to start some basic training, though at that age far from riding-ready. Bravo was Tina's first colt, born early that spring and Junior was a young burro, about the third foal of Jennyfur. The 'boys' got along okay, still far from mature, and shared a pen. Dynamite was a mule we'd had a long time, since early in 1959. She never was fully broke or trained. For some reason she did not fit in well with the larger mule herd normally led by Tina or Queenie and got the poor leavings of the feed. I think she had eaten some moldy bad hay and got an impaction. We almost lost her. but she pulled through it.

Mary Corley was a pen pal I wrote to for some time and Ray Ary was too. I do not recall much about him--he was never significant--and I probably quit writing to her about the time I left home, fall 1966. 

Letters were still my main social outlet, that and seeing Dusty, of course. I often wrote letters or notes to him too when we did not get together. I had been pretty much head over heels for a few weeks by now and became almost grief stricken to think he'd be leaving and we'd lose contact. I thought he had grown to care for me but my old lack of confidence made me afraid to trust that intuitive feeling. I knew he had difficulty with writing and had seen that from the few notes he had written me. He was certainly not slow or intellectually challenged but he was a high school dropout, mildly dyslexic and left handed--which was not treated well in school as he was growing up. He had gotten into some trouble in his mid-late teens and as was often done then, any juvenile punishment was waived if the youth in question went in the service since there was a war going on. His adopted mom signed for him and he was off to the navy in 1940 at not quite 17.

This weekend I was looking ahead to the both dreaded and anticipated final day. As it went, we saw each other rarely for many months but I wrote faithfully and he answered surprisingly often under the circumstances. Those letters became my lifeline.

So a few mostly work pictures...which I have more of than anything else at this point! First is me about that time, probably going to Prescott to be dressed up. I had made the shirt and it was a favorite as I felt it came out nice. It was red-orange color with butterflies in a print.  Next is young Dingbat (really Ding Bob). It is probably Bravo behind him but I cannot tell. And there's Annie saddled in the background. Last I'm leading Chief with Annie--something I did many, many times! It is odd I had the hackamore bit on her; not sure why. Convenience maybe.

Memoir Monday, Oct 31, 1964

Finally over the mumps and back to business as usual, more or less. The day before had worked out well, one of those Fridays I looked forward to...  It was still vivid in my mind. 

Oct 31, 1964 Sat

I got up a bit late since I went to bed at 11:00 last night. Fed, etc. I don’t care for sorting moldy hay but this isn’t too bad. Mom drove us out and we did our chores. I saddled Annie and went for the  mail. I got letters from Norm and Baird, very nice ones. I really like Norm and I guess after Dusty is gone I’ll look forward to his letters more. But forgetting Dusty is not going to be easy… I led Chief and Bravo and rode Leo this morning. Mom took a photo of me on Leo. That will be for Norm, maybe --and Dusty. After l ate lunch we drove down to Middle Verde and got a ton of that %^&* filthy hay from Gimlin to stretch the alfalfa. We got an oil well check today--$3.73.  We nearly died. It was funny except we really needed some funds.  We were awfully late getting the chores done so just dispensed with Halloween activities. I don’t care; I’m not too enthused with that sort of thing any more. I dreamed of Dusty and Baird both last night, all mixed together.  Golly, how can I stand it? A week from now he’ll be gone. Somehow I’ll have tell him. I guess I’ll give him that poem I wrote as a parting gift. And I wonder what he’ll say. But I daren’t even think of that. Now I’ll get myself cleaned up for this trip tomorrow. My nails are pink even if Dusty doesn’t like “war paint." If he’s crazy enough to love me as I am, who am I to argue with him? I just have to love him back. Dusty Darlin’, you know I do.

To continue about the 30th, Dad had gone to Phoenix with the big truck for hay and I was out with Prez leading the colts and two year olds after the pasture work was done. I knew no one was going to be paying too close attention so I got going. It was coming on to noon and I headed out along the highway kind of hoping... Dusty caught me short of the pass so I told  him to go on and we'd meet down in the 'sag' between Clarkdale and Cottonwood. He did and we talked for an hour. I got a couple of pictures of him with the Plymouth and heard the dreaded news that they would likely be pulling out in another week.  We'd known it was coming but that made it even harder to say goodbye. That big L word had not actually been said by either of us so far and it wasn't literally spoken for awhile yet. It was maybe easier to write but that was still ahead too. Right now I was not really sure there would be any keeping in touch.  I hoped...which was all I could do at this point.

The photo Mom took of me on Leo was shared several places and eventually was made into an oil painting by my friend Judy who lived in Southern California. The old tin sheds in the background morphed into scenery she knew from her area in that picture. I still have it on my living room wall. It must have been fairly warm for the end of October since I was wearing a short sleeved shirt, one I had made earlier that year. It was pink and black which I did not tell Judy so she improvised. I guess I had been riding Leo about two months at this point and he was doing well. I do not think he even really knew he was a stallion! At any rate he was 95% a sweet tractable mount and his rare little acting outs were mild.

Bad hay--the bane of my existence or a major one at least. We had just gotten a big load of better alfalfa from Phoenix, but we'd get junk too and try to stretch the more expensive stuff and save it for the best horses. I sorted many a handful to get out the mold, burrs and anything else that was not fit to be eaten. I do not doubt that it caused some some health issues anyway and really resented having to resort to that. And that oil well--it came with the Texas property Dad had talked his siblings into deeding to him and there were royalties that varied all over the place depending on the amount they pumped and going prices. And the trip coming? I have no idea without looking it up. 

I don't know if I can find the poem I refer to or not; it is probably in Walking Down My Shadows. I may be able to identify it by the date. I found it--I think--and it will be at the end, even below the photos! In the FWIW department--not deathless verse though heartfelt.

So now some pix! The first is that one of me on Leo followed by Judy's interpretation.  Then there is Dusty in working clothes since he had just shut down for the weekend at noon on Friday. And finally, the Plymouth wagon I christened Moonspinner. (Me and my kookie names for things!) And below that , the verse I had written. At least one of many!

Farewell  (10-19-64)

Dusty, Dearest Dusty

What am I going to do

When the time rolls round that I

Must say goodbye to you?

Dusty, Dearest Dusty,

I’m afraid that I will cry

When the bridges are all mended

And we have to say goodbye.

Dusty, I keep asking

Whatever will I say

When they pull out the camp cars

And you have to go away?

I didn’t mean to love you

But you made me, anyway

So now what am I going to do

When you leave someday?

Dusty, Dearest Dusty

Don’t you know I’ll grieve

When we talk the last time

Just before you leave?

Promise me this, Dusty,

That you won’t forget me.

I tried not to love you, Dear,

But you wouldn’t let me.

Memoir Monday, Oct 24, 1964

I was getting over the mumps after a miserable week. At last I could eat again!

Oct 24, 1964, Sat 

I’m really alive today and it was a good ‘un. I got up about 8:00 and had myself a good breakfast while the folks were gone and I did the dishes and sewed some. The Greening wedding was today. We saw them leave. Barbara the bride in white etc. I helped lead everyone up for drinks. They were good. We went to Cottonwood for grain and stamps. On our way home we stopped for mail. I got my photos, a new letter from Norm, a letter from Laura and one more very special one!! I’m now sure that my photo problem was a finger print on the lens. Only one on that roll was really messed so I guess I ruined about eleven in all. Well it could be worse. I’ll get them again. Dusty’s letter was so nice, gentle and touching like his note. Dear Dusty… I let Annie graze in the shop yard for two hours while I loafed in the sun. It felt great. They sure had a noisy party at Greenings this p.m. The beer flowed freely, I think. Half the company was literally smashed. I led up the pets again and then visited with Mrs Wease, read the paper, etc. while the fol;ks were gone.  I made cookies and we had a casserole for supper. I ate and ate so that I weigh 117 now. I’ll get back to 125 directly--only eight pounds to go. I’m late for bed so bye ‘til tomorrow. I’m writing Norm again but I love Dusty! Can’t help myself there; he won’t let me. He is so genuine and sweet.

The folks had been forced to handle the chores and did so without too many whines. Of course Charlie Mike did a lot. This time I was sick enough there was no question  So they were off at the pasture while I was home. All at once food tasted good and I ate with gusto. The indoor tasks were  not too onerous. I was out  of quarantine now and it felt good to leave the house. 

The special letter I received meant so much. Charlie Mike had brought me one note earlier in the week and I had seen Dusty drive by more than one afternoon but did not think he saw me. So a letter meant a lot as I still did not see him for several more days. The  photo comment refers back to a roll that was blurry. There was a fingerprint on the lens which I.cleaned and fixed it.  Ref my first picture of Dusty posted two weeks ago.

The family I mentioned lived across street. I  do not  remember much about them or even this incident. The rest is pretty self-explanatory and routine. No photos that fit this time. 

I am laboring under a disadvantage here but determined to make this work--more or less!! I did attach my trackball mouse as the touch pad  on this little machine is a pain but will need to put my larger keyboard on too.It is that or write stuff on the desktop and then copy over on a flash drive and paste in. Better next time I hope!! Thanks for the patience. Call it s**t happens  to the Nth power!

Memoir Monday, Oct 17, 1964

So  much had happened in a mere week! The day before I had come down with the mumps! At the age of twenty one that was no light matter and probably added to  my later-discovered sterility issues. I remember I was one sick and miserable puppy for over a week. Childhood diseases should never happen to adults--the results are not good! (Damn my over-protected childhood.) I think Alex got them at school a bit before this and Charlie Mike had them several years earlier.

Oct 17, 1964, Sat

Boy, I am twenty shades if blue today. Ugh. This mumps bit is awful. Can’t eat worth a damn. I spent the day writing letters (ten pages to Baird and five to Norm). playing solitaire and feeling sorry for myself. The folks made a late and hasty trip to Prescott. Charlie Mike did all the home chores alone. I felt bad for him. I condensed sixteen pages of letter into four for Dusty. I’ll have Charlie Mike mail it on Monday probably. The only thing that tasted good to me all day was the special ice cream Mom brought me. It was delish. Gee, I’m a mess. Hope it does not last long! I’d just about die. Maybe my appetite will improve after I get well because I’ll have to fast ‘til then. I’m hungry now but I can’t eat. This is terrible really. I’m just so mad that I could flip.  I hoped and hoped that I would not get them but I think I knew I would all along. Heavens to Betsy. Well, I guess it’s the only way I can get a vacation so I may as well make the best of it.

To backtrack slightly, on the 13th, Dusty had come over to the house in the evening at my and Charlie Mike's invitation. This was not an event that ended well. I should have smelled a rat! (Naive innocent that I was still.) It was really out of character when Dad had said a few days before that Charlie Mike and I should "bring our friends home to meet the family." I'm not sure how it had come up but it seemed Dusty was to be one of them. Ha, this seeming jollity from a man who had become so reclusive we almost *never* had kids we knew come into the house and the one who had created a virtual fortress with the enmeshed family to where the whole world was basically barred from our place? Yeah, sure. 

Oh, the visit went well enough, talking about ranches and horses, hunting and such. I think Charlie Mike and I ate supper in the living room with our guest and gave him a piece of cake or pie. Mom gave me a small bawling out after he left, but the next day all hell broke loose. We were instructed to never go around the work train again and I was absolutely never to speak another word to that 'railroad man.' (Always said with a sneer, as if that employment was anathema to two whose father/father-in-law were both life-long railroad employees, and who had been raised and sent to college on those wages? Rankest hippocracy!! ) Needless to say, I was already well set in the practice of disregarding such orders and Charlie Mike was getting there. We would just be more sly, discrete and careful. I am not sure if Dusty realized at first how this had really not gone well. He was polite, neatly dressed and outwardly should have been quite acceptable.  I did not get to speak to him again the next two days. Then on Friday, the weather turned wet and we were not able to cross paths as usual--and by that evening I knew I was getting very sick. I was devastated!

Back in 1963, feeling totally disgusted about my lack of social life, I had put another letter in Ranch Romances magazine for pen pals. Norm and Baird were two that I had kept out of the replies I got. Norm lived in Idyllwild, CA and raised shetland ponies. Baird lived in Missouri and was semi-disabled with severe epilepsy but became a friend or almost uncle/elder brother and I grew fond of him, though it was no romance.  A few months later I ended both contacts  as I committed totally to Dusty but I was not there yet. 

The next week was dismal.  The disease has become very rare since then with vaccines but like many others, there is a resurgence due to the  anti-vax movement and arrivals of  people from other places where vaccines are rare or not available. BTW I had both sides effected at once. I have no personal photos of mumpsishness!(No selfies in those days!) So I found a couple of illustrations. My hair was lighter and face less round but the gals here (a before and after I think) are not too far from me at that point, glasses especially. The old rag around the face was a 20's-40's classic meme for mumps! There was a quarantine sign too but I think not by the 60s.

e.

Monday Memoir, Oct 10, 1964

 So the 1964 fall saga continues. Today, many decades later, it seems like another lifetime only partly recalled. Or a movie I watched, a book I read?   Yes, "Older but no wiser."

Oct 10, 1964 Sat

I got up just a little tardy but I hit the work and got a thing or two done. I rode Annie out. Ginger’s leg was dragging again but I fixed it. I also caught Chipper. He was gentle, really. I watered everyone and put Lyno, Leo and Buzzie through their paces. They‘d forgotten surprisingly little.  We spent some valuable midday hours discussing ranches but I got two feedbags made anyway. We {Charlie Mike and I} rode Buzz, visited the camp cars and found no one was home. Took Chief out and bred Susie. Rita was also in. Tina, Patsy and Bunny all seem to be okay so far. Thank gosh. It must’ve been that hay. Got home quite late, but I don’t care. No place to go tonight but I’ve got all dolled up to go to church tomorrow. Wonder if someone will get back? I can’t wait to see him again but I’m scared to really after yesterday. I may write him but I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do, really. No, I know but I can’t, that’s it. We got a little work done today anyway, no?

I have to laugh. I didn't here but I used "chores" so recklessly and habitually then. Really a 'chore' is a rather small and mundane task, like one might assign a kid so they earned an allowance. What I did was not in that category and had not been since fairly early in the time we had livestock--say 1956-7 or so.  From about twelve on, I was a near-full-time ranch/stable hand and edging into the 'real' job of cowboy girl well before this point. Summers and from  June 1962 on it was 12-14 hours with a couple off for lunch--at anywhere from 1:00 to 4:00 --and siesta in the hot months.

Ginger was the paint filly Susie delivered back in January just after an extreme cold period. She had a loose hip or stifle joint for awhile, not sure what caused it, but she did outgrow it after a time.The three young Quarter Horses (Leo, Lyno and Buzzie) were two now, ready to be ridden lightly, which I did, and if not, they were ponied most days and some ground work done to further 'socialize' them. Buzzie trained very easily and I could already ride her bareback and feel safe. I was worried after Peppy had lost a foal the prior week but the rest all seemed fine. In retrosect she may have gotten jostled seriously in the travel over from New Mexico which caused the miscarriage. Did have some almost nasty hay then though... Quien sabe ~ one big Latina shrug.

So on the 9th, a Friday, I had met Dusty early afternoon before he left for the weekend. This became a near-habit for us until B&B 6 pulled out and was resumed the next year when they returned. That day our convesation had gotten a bit more serious and deep. We'd both been learning about each other as we talked, mostly in careful and outwardly casual words. What was different? Only a few of the most subtle and cautious admissions were spoken but in a few intense meetings of gazes, the growing attraction was acknowedged. I was both joyful and troubled about that. I know he was too.  All at once it was not just a fun, casual and harmless game anymore.  The next few weeks things did get difficult as I will cover in due time. For now, I had no idea of all that was coming.

Also about this time, Dusty traded the Dodge sedan for the Plymouth wagon which he then drove until mid-1966. It was silvery-gray and  metallic green, styled much like the Plymouth Fury of similar vintage. I christened it "Moonspinner."  (At this point I nick-named about everything!)

Okay some photos to illustrate the era.  First, "Moonspinner" at the end of the River Road just above the trail down to the fishing hole.This spot does not exist today or at least is inaccessible. I have tried to locate it and failed. Next, Buzzie and Lyno, both saddled. I was riding Buzz and this is on the ridge above the Sycamore Canyon Road and the old TAPCO power plant, partly demolished now. Next is me on Buzzie, sometime that summer, about the 10th time she was ridden. I was then using the light McClellan saddle and a hackamore bridle on  her. (note Lyno has that bridle in the prior photo; it was a good training device.) We're behind our houses in Clarkdale. Finally Ginger at the pasture main corral about this time. She never was really a pretty animal but had a good disposition and the flashy color going for her. We would ween her and bring her home from the pasture not long after this.