Memoir Monday, March 28, 1960, 1961, & 1962!

Just for fun, the same date three years in a row. The more things change the more they stay the same? Well not totally since in 1960 I was out of school.  

Mar 28, 1960

A busy day for me. Dad and Mom went to Flagstaff to pay a friendly visit to the loan company and I was left to hold the fort. I ironed, did dishes, and made a batch of perfectly frightful cookies. Anyway I had fun and Charlie Mike was a perfect angel. I had to keep control of Janey, Mike Post, Kippy and Marie while doing the chores and later I played ball with them. I guess we’ll have to work again tomorrow. Tonight I am restless. I keep getting restless. The book I am reading describes my feelings rather well. I want to love and be loved. I can see why lots of teenage girls get married. I want somebody; not just somebody but someone special that is RE and BO and “Luke” and many other former fancies all rolled into one. I’ll never find a man like that. Au revoir, Gaye

I'm not sure what those perfectly frightful cookies were! I made cookies a lot about this time and often pretty much made up my own recipes. Usually they came out good enough but maybe this time they did not.  The kids were all neighborhood ones and mostly Charlie Mike's age or even younger. Janey was Janey Jackson, a little Downs Syndrome girl up the street. Kippy and Marie were Santillans, lived in our block and Mike Post was one of Charlie Mike's classmates and kind of friend.  Not sure where he lived actually--around there. It was fun to try to do the chores and keep this bunch out of mischief or getting hurt. RE and BO were a couple of my recent crushes and "Luke" was Luke McCain on The Rifleman, one of my favorite shows. 

Mar 28, 1961

Well, it finally really rained. I was afraid it had forgotten how, by golly. I was able to ride Stella out to the pasture this morning, but it began to rain soon after I got home and kept raining off and on all day. I got my two letters from Wayne today--they were goodies. I spent most of the afternoon writing. It takes me awhile to answer Wayne’s letters.  Gotta be very careful, you know. I went uptown in the rain this afternoon to mail some letters and go to the library. I saw Linda Carpenter and Martha Scearce and talked to them some. By the time we started on the chores it was raining pretty good and it kept up steady all evening. I sewed quite a bit, finishing Charlie Mike’s shirt and stitching up a gray skirt for  myself.  Know something? Wayne is a dead ringer for Jim Garner and I’ve got photos to prove it. Wow. I read over all his letters tonight. It is kinda interesting to see how our ‘friendship’ developed. Just one thing, he reminds me of Blondie--don’t know whether I like that or not. Love ya, Gaye

So it rained. I managed to ride to the pasture before it began. Stella was a nice little mule that we sold within the year as I recall. Wayne was at that point a favored pen pal. He was cute. Did he look like James Garner? Maybe a little bit. At least on paper and the phone--never met face to face--he as quite a flirt. That's probably what reminded me of Blondie, yet another nickname for my nemesis that almost got me into serious trouble the year before. They did not look at all alike  for sure. It must have been a Saturday since I do not mention school and I was back for my junior year at this point.

Mar 28, 1962

I hated to get up this morning because I hadn’t slept well but some things must be done. I took off for school, still rather hungry. The morning passed quickly and uneventfully. Reen for once had a big lunch and I had only a cheese sandwich--boy, I got hungry but I couldn’t eat. We had an assembly this afternoon in which a tape recording of a speech about “brainwashing” was played. It made a lot of sense. I got letters from Wayne and Jose today. I can’t answer them just yet though. I did the home chores and when Dad got back from Prescott we drove out to the pasture and did those chores. I drove all the way home. Viva las ruedas. Dad helped me a little but I drove anyway. In a few weeks I’ll learn how to do it better. I spent the evening working on my paper. I must or I’ll never get it done. Curses on term papers…but they are necessary…I guess. It is now nearly 10:00 pm. My face aches like it’s got 10,000 fiends in it. My weary eyes are heavy and I guess I must go. Lawyer Boyle has been desperately ill--how inconvenient of him--but maybe he can do something before long. Excuse my dreadful writing tonight. I’m in a state.

And now in the last semester, a bit more serious than I had been the previous years I think. I was just starting to learn to drive. This time I was with Dad though actually Mom drove with me a lot more than he did and she was usually patient as I ground gears and jerked. Yes, it was a stick shift in a Ford F150 pickup. I didn't drive an automatic for quite awhile as we did not have one. Term paper time, probably the first one of two I did for English. And I actually enjoyed research and  writing. That stood me in good stead when I eventually went off to college..Why I could not eat and my face ached, I really do not recall. Possible an abscessed tooth--that happened to me a few times--or maybe fever blisters, which I seemed to get a lot. Or it could have been an accident like getting hit with the toggle of a barbwire gate...ouchy! Mr Boyle was an attorney Dad had retained to work on some legal issues--I ignored that mess all I could and developed a huge dislike for the whole idea. 

What a bunch of boring crap!! Well, life tends to be like that. Pictures? Not many to even consider right here. Okay, all five of us, in the fall of 1959--Alex was about 6 months old. Do not think it was any major occasion but Grandma was there to visit from Kentucky I think. Then us three kids on the truck--that would be the one I was learning to drive, probably about summer1962. And Wayne Wylder, pen pal with slight resemblance to James Garner? (very slight LOL.)

Memoir Monday, March 21, 1962

 I decided to stick with the 58-62 block thru the end of May. After that I will jump ahead into  the 1962-66 period. That was the real cowboy girl time or as I name it in my semi formal memoir book effort, My Four Year Sentence. I kind of sold myself into indentured servitude and much of that time was not pretty. I learned a lot and basically the person I still am was fired and fixed by the effects of those days. During the teens I think few of us are 'finished'; it takes moving into the adult world in one way or another to learn who we are meant to be.

March 21, 1962

Another day--they go on and on one after another, one like another. I got up and went to school. I spent my study hall reading about Shelley, Keats and Byron. They were a weird bunch of characters. The other classes were ok. I didn’t do very well with my oils today. Oh well, no me importa. No mail for me. Still no letter from Jose. No me importa. I can say it but do I mean it? Will someone someday publish my poems and letters and write papers about me? An odd thought that. But no, I don’t think so. But then who can say. Yo no se. There is much that I don’t know. I am lonely tonight and sad for some reason. Maybe I am just tired. I know I am tired of school, and all the silly people. 

The dim light at the end of the long, often dark tunnel of school was becoming visible. It still seemed a distant dream  and perhaps unattainable but day by day, like identical beads on a long cord, I went through it.

For my first senior term paper in English, I chose to write about three poets that rather caught my fancy. I found it energizing to do comparisons and contrasts and used that ploy often in essays and other academic writing. LOL, 'weird' was almost too mild for those three guys! They were definitely 'bohemian' in their life styles, politics and personas. Byron perhaps the most flamboyant but all three way out of step with their peers. That aspect appealed to me also.

Jose was at that time my favorite pen pal and he seemed to go on many trips and disappear for several weeks. I'd get perturbed not hearing from him and sometimes peeved but would always forgive him when another of his very long, incense scented and multi-colored letters showed up. I still wonder if the persona that appeared in those letters was real or a total fiction. One never knows, even as the profiles and messages from today's on-line dating sites may or may not be true. That being said, one can 'know' a person for  a long time only to suddenly see them in a different way and learn things that are very disturbing. Any relationship is a risk.

When I was nineteen and still a student I did have dreams or maybe delusions of becoming 'famous' and even perhaps rich. Like many dreams those faded with time and the reality of life. Today I am marginally infamous perhaps and maybe a few hundred people have read my poetry, fiction and or blog posts  but I never even got close to the 'rich'. Truthfully I have lived on the edge of poverty all my days and at times well into that state. 

For some reason I said nothing about the weather that day nor about my ubiquitous 'chores' and the animals. Mostly both were such a big part of my day to day life. And other than Jose I did not mention any 'handsome heroes' or even 'former fancies'. Still, my 'romance addiction' was a constant part of my thoughts and inspiration for many wishes and dreams.  It took many decades to finally "get clean" and let that all go. My current addiction may be nostalgia to some degree and a few fairly passionate interests that have followed me for most of the days and years between then and now with a few added..

Just a couple of random photos from about that time so the bare words are not too dull. The first was that winter and one of several taken at the same time. Next I am with my friend Evelyn  Morales (then Graves) and we were shortly going to go riding. She had borrowed a pair of my levis (we called all blue jeans levis in that era) since she did not wear them. This was probably a year or two earlier. We were sitting on the saw horse which saw a lot of use making long wood into stove length to heat the house. And last, working down at the land we had acquired below Bridgeport on the west bank of the Verde. We had surveyed it and laid out the corners and were starting to mark the boundaries with posts, preparatory to fencing--which was never actually finished. (Don't ask, long sad tale)

Memoir Monday, March 14, 1959

Another visit way back, all the way to 1959. Hard to believe it has been that long! Sixty plus years-yikes!

March 14, 1959

Aye de mi! Que dia. I got off to a nice start anyway. I fixed breakfast for  Mom as a surprise. About 9:30 I saddled Tina and took off for Cottonwood. I looked all around the pasture and no mules so I got the mail and hurried home. Dad had just gotten back and Bert, Nellie, Tony and three other horses were down at the corrals. Dad notified Mickle who told Betty Andrews and her husband to come over and get their two. Betty’s little “Cookie” looks like Tina used to.  Dodie Mickle rode old Prince. I led Nellie on Tina, Betty’s man rode Tony and led a little sorrel and old Bert went his merry way.  We got them all back in and I loped Tina home. I think Betty is really nice. Dodie’s all right.   Betty’s husband is kind of nice too. Not much later we heard a small plane. Yes, it was Cameron. He is coming down tomorrow afternoon. Of course Dad had to tell us all about his adventures. He’d seen the rodeo parade and lots of stuff on TV. He said Kelo dropped his gun and fell off his horse and that "26 Men" is decidedly amateurish. On the whole, however, the westerns are improving. They have better writers. “Wyatt Earp”, “Rifleman”, “Sheriff of Cochise” etc are good. From what he said about the doctors, we’re getting quite a reputation. It is nice to be famous even if you are poor. We’ll get there yet, by gumbo. Boy this was some day. In my words “Some days it doesn’t pay to get up and other days it doesn’t pay to stay in bed.” This was one of the latter. I guess tomorrow will be a busy day  too. Real busy. If that saying “there’s no rest for the wicked” is true I must be plumb bad. Well I guess that’s enough for today. Don’t try to tell me I don’t have any adventures. I’m going to be “technical advisor” for the westerns when I grow up. Adios, Gaye

At this point we were edging into the mule business having sold five to Ralph Cameron who had the ride concession at the Rainbow Bridge and a guest ranch of sorts there. (The geographical, not the mythical one!) Since we had stock scattered around we had to collect them for the soon-to-happen sale and departure. (Al)Bert and Nellie were two of those that were going. Tony was my former little Navajo pony who had been traded to Charley Bryant for a mule and I think sold by him. I am not sure who owned the horse at this time.We did take him back later and sold him to the Verde Valley School's stable manager.

Dodie Mickle was a classmate at Mingus  and we had pastured some animals at her family's place on the outskirts of Cottonwood. I don't recall riding with her any other time nor other contact with the Andrews but that does not mean neither happened. Anyway we got the critters back that day.

I think Dad had just gotten home from the VA Hospital at Whipple outside of Prescott. Since Kelo Henderson was one of my current idols he had to make some snide and snarky remarks. I seriously doubt Kelo either dropped his gun or fell of his horse in a parade or on a regular TV show. Dad was never above resorting to fiction when he wanted to establish a point or lay shade on someone. By this stage I had given up much of my old hero-worship and respect for him that I had as a child and a grade school student when he taught at Camp Wood and Willard. Eventually that totally died and we were very much at odds for many years.

Anyway Mr Cameron showed up in his plane (I think he had a pilot's license) and I knew the next day would be round-up time to get all five mules and put them in the Santa Fe stockyard corral just south of Clarkdale where they'd be picked up. That actually happened two days later.

"Tech advisor" for the westerns, eh? Well, a good dream anyway and one that I could probably have done when it came to the equines and a lot of the historical facts because those were both passions of mine. When I was interested in something I tended to really dig in and learn all I could.about it. I read constantly and not only novels.That stood me in good stead through high school and college and even since then.

Photos: Chuck Connors of The Rifleman and Kelo Henderson of 26 Men.  Albert--the big ugly mule who never settled down well. Tony or Tonalea the little Navajo pony I had for awhile. The first is Charley Bryant leading Albert and me on Tony crossing the Verde River just down from the bridge at Clarkdale. Next I was leading Albert with a pack saddle in Mescal Canyon, just south of Jerome.  Then Kelo and Chuck, fan pix I had collected.

Memoir Monday, March 7, 1960

This was in the spring of the year I was out of school, "the Mule Year" as I call it. This nine or ten  months were my first real stint in the cowboy girl life. There was a lot of work involved--about 24/7/365.  I did love the animals and did not mind the work as long as things went along with no huge upheavals--but there were too many of them. I had a hard-to-please boss!

Mar 7, 1960

Aren’t we always busy though? This morning we went over to Coon’s and got the rest of our hay. We got sixty one bales. On the way back we stopped to see Queen’s filly. Her name is Countess Maritza and I will call her Ritzi for short. She really is a beautiful little thing, so dainty. Dad thinks she is an Arabian. She does have an Arabian head. Queen was very quiet and even let us pat her. We were exhausted by the time we’d unloaded all the hay and done the chores. We managed to pull ourselves together enough to go out to the pasture and give Bluie a workout with the throwing harness. I guess we’ll ride him tomorrow. I’m almost finished The River Road by Frances Parkinson Keyes. It’s a very good book and not one you can read in a couple of hours. A week from tomorrow was the day I met Buster. I wish I’d see him again. Adios, Gaye 

The Coon family had a ranch or farm up the river from Clarkdale. We bought hay from them at times and also pastured some animals there. At this time, we had several mules in various stages of getting trained out there and Queen or Queenie was kind of the bell mare for them. She had come with one of the several batches of mules Dad had bought from a dealer in Kansas named Willis Grumbein. We did not know for awhile that she was carrying a foal when she came to us but the pregnancy became obvious over time. She delivered a few days before this and her baby was a lovely surprise. No, I do not think the foal was Arabian. Queenie was clearly a grade (non-purebred and unregistered) Quarter Horse and I expect she had been bred to a Quarter Horse. Ritzi had a delicate head but developed typical Quarter Horse muscle as she matured.

Blue or Bluie was one of the mules we were working on. The throwing harness was a rig to immobilize the animal without really hurting them and let them get used to be touched and handled. He was not a bad mule and trained well. Sadly, he dislocated a hip somehow and we never could get it totally fixed so he would be sound. He was one that eventually went back to Grumbein's. I expect he was probably put down after a time but never knew. 

Buster was the foreman for a guy who had bought several mules from us the preceding year and he became one of my "handsome heroes" and a serious crush for some time. I always hoped to meet him again but that never happened.

Although I worked outside most of most days,I did not lose my reading habit and went up to the library almost every week to get a few books to amuse myself. I loved historical novels and 'westerns' best and of course much preferred books that had a love story woven into the plot.

This was just a pretty typical day at that time. It must have gone fairly smoothly with no major kerfuffles or catastrophes since my tone was pretty calm and stable.

A few photos-not too exciting! My effort at a portrait of "Buster". Mom was feeding Ritzi some grain--about a year old at that time.Little mule Ruby at the side.  A view down looking at the corral area at the pasture behind Tuzigoot and south of Tavasci's place. The cowboy girl herself; I made the shirt and was quite pleased with it. I started with a small man's shirt pattern and altered it to a more feminine fit and then experimented with yokes, sleeves and other style features.I made dozens of shirts over the years!

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