Memoir Monday, Aug 1, 1962

The first months of my "four year  sentence" I'd assigned to myself, not yet guesseing how long and hard it would be. Still half way wishful on the college thing--but I set so many deadlines and let them go by... My bad? Not really; I was just not strong enough to break the chains and ties that bound me.

Aug  1, 1962

Hello me! I got up at 6:30 to silence my noisy little alarm clock. I took a few minutes to wake up and then I marched out bravely to meet the day. I did all my usual morning chores of course but on a new schedule more or less. With Annie gone, poor Chip was confused. No mail for me today. When I came home, I read one of my library books. Then it was lunch time. I cut out a pink shirt and then wrote a letter to Jose. I ‘fessed up about the letter return bit etc. I really don’t know why. Something just made me do it. He’ll probably be thoroughly riled but we’ll see. Charlie Mike went up but he didn’t take my letter so I had to do it. I didn’t mind though. It was rather cloudy but I rode out anyway. It didn’t rain so I really had nothing to worry about. Chip behaved nicely. The whole herd came in together as they did this morning. At least Annie hasn’t taken off yet. I hope she doesn’t. Really not much happened today. I guess I shouldn’t waste a whole page on such a day but I’ve got a new diary book waiting to be used so I can be a little wasteful; We keep talking about moving and such,  I wish we really would! One more month--that’s all. I said it and I’ll stick to it.  I still could go to Grand Canyon College. I think I’d almost like to go away and live an entirely different life for awhile.

Not much to explain or clarify here. Annie and Chip were mules I have mentioned before. Jose was still a favored pen pal at this time; I don't recall this incident I mention--a minor disagrement had occurred I think.  There were recurring problems with fences down and bunches of our animals straying far off from where they were supposed to be in the pasture area we rented out behind Tuzigoot. This was a constant and ongoing matter. The 'ranch hunt' and possible move notion went on and on, a total fable or fairytale really. I had realized it was not going to happen well before this but still wanted to believe, I guess. We lie to ourselves better than to anyone else.

A calm and rather dull day, really. Starting the third month since I finished school I was still trying to pretend that I could and would be going off to college . In a way, a pipe dream and a bad joke, all rolled into one. Somewhere deep inside I absolutely knew it was not going to happen. It was rather similar to my lengthy desire to have a social life with a 'real' boyfriend and start looking ahead to adult relationships. If I mentioned either around my parents, I got the old brush off that began when I was in my early to mid-teens! "Oh, it's much too soon for all that; wait and grow up." Yeah, right. Until I am 45?!?

I go back to what I finally realized early in working on my main memoir project--the full book one. I was really never supposed to grow up. Their plan, especially Dad's, was that I would remain a docile, adoring and genderless child 'forever', virtually a semi-human pet. In some ways I was to be the only one and Charlie Mike was often treated very badly, perhaps for simply being born and throwing a wrench into that progrram. The idea of my being an indepenent entity and eventually moving on to my own life was appalling to my father! Unbearable and a catastrophe he would not accept.  Yes, that is warped and twisted and wrong but it is a truth that I have finally come to recognize. So college was the same way--they had been proud of my being valedictorian and getting some modest scholarships but it was "too soon."  How could they permit me to go off and live elsewhere and no longer be right there, every day and every hour?

At this time and for the next four years, I believed what they wanted and were demanding to keep was my labor and all that I did to support the livestock "business" and other enterprises Dad pursued but that was really only a minor part of it.  Like many people who are at least marginally unbalanced, Dad could be charming, persuasive and very convincing. With the enmeshed family and emotional incest at work, I was really terribly brainwashed and overwhelmed.  I just wish I could have started to sever those clinging webs so much sooner. That I fnally did is almost a miracle but I did have help--besides my Guardian Angel in whom I absolutely believe, there were a few people who were there for me in subtle, often unseen but at times very positive, even critical ways. I am eternally thankful for them. I will introduce one before long when I get to a few entries from 1964 and 1965.

Pictures? I can think of very few so one or two to contrrast me on May 31 and now on August 1.  It is almost hard to identify with this young woman in the white gown. Then the cowboy girl--Annie is on my left, a big rangy raw boned mule she was but a good one. She served me very well. And then Charlie Mike and me in the junked up yard. I would have been preparing to ride out to the pasture, no doubt. He often wore even raggedier and more pitiful clothes and shoes than I did. He is very bitter now and hates his father. After a few things he has told me that I did not know, I truly understand. Abuse of many kinds...I am sad. I wish I could have helped him more.

Memoir Monday, July 25, 1964

 I got my days crossed and July 25 1963 got in where July 18 should have been. Scrambled brained me. so I will try to get back on track with a jump ahead of one year. 

July 25, 1964, Sat

I didn’t try to get up early. What’s the use? Fed, ate breakfast etc. Drove out and worked on Happy’s and Ginger’s manners a bit. They get pretty sassy. When we came home I saddled Prez and watered everyone and then led Lyno, Leo and Chief and rode Buzzie. She was just a little tight at first. I guess she is in heat but she did okay. Finally got done and came in about 2:30. That’s the worst yet. After lunch I read my mail and then lay down and slept until 5:00. I guess that is a poor way to spend the afternoon but I was tired as could be. We did our home chores and drove out. Mom went along to admire Bravo. A big cloud came up while we were out there and we barely beat the rain home. And did it ever rain. It leaked in all over and we had to move things frantically. It must have rained   2” or more in an hour. Oh it was terrible! It really was. We went down to check on the stock and the canyon was running like mad. All the critters were standing in water.  Gee this is really awful. The corrals, trails etc will be a hell of a mess. I dread for tomorrow to come. Then I wrote a sentence backwards. Isn’t that silly, I said? But it might come in useful sometime.

The summer of 1964 was one of some big rains. This was one day of it and August saw even more and worse. When water came down the Clarkdale canyon it often flooded the area where the corrals were up to 6-10 inches. It drained off fairly fast but left a mess on it's wake. The road out to the pasture could get pretty slippery and sometimes the ditch that ran through the dairy and the middle of the pasture would wash over the bridge the road used to cross it. The bridge was never taken out though but I expect it is gone now with the marsh and all. I'm not even sure if there is a road from the other end that extends to the pasture area.  I haven't found one in recent years anyway, although there is occuppied private property just to the south. 

I have mentioned the horses named here before and mostly provided photos. I do not have many flood shots but may find a few. Bravo was my beloved Tina's first foal, sired by Chief, and he was born March 19, 1964. That means he was close to time to be weaned but he'd had an accident from which he was recovering so that was delayed a bit. He did not come out Appaloosa, a bit disappointing, but otherwise he was a fine handome colt and almost uncannily similar to his dam except more brown the reddish bay. His white markings were a bit less than her's also.

Those houses in Clarkdale were not in the greatest state of repair. The one we lived in had a terrible pathetic roof. Supposedly it was replaced after the old wooden shingles caught fire once but for some reason it never stopped leaking! I think water came down around the central chimney and I'm not sure where and how else. Maybe that is why I tend to freak out about leaky roofs! We had a good job done on the porches here in 2020 which did leak some at first but the house itself was just reroofed when we contracted for it  and should be good for awhile barring bad hail or fierce winds. 

I have been able to read backwards or upside down since I was fairly young. Just for spits and giggles I decided to see if I could write (in cursive!) backwards and by golly I could. Not quite as neat but legible. I still can read upside down very easily and do so at times.  Dubious talent?!

The first photo shows the lowest point of Clarkdale or close to it. about 1965. Many houses were vacant and vandalized. This was across the street from our two houses.  It was really desolate and pitiful looking then. The next is Bravo, about the time of this date. He was 4-5 months old  and looked so much like Tina except less white. And a shot of her about the same time. She had a white blaze face as well as the one white foot.

Memoir Monday, July 18 1963

What should have been here!! 

July 18, 1963

We got up pretty early and began what was to be a pretty long day. I fed and ate and then we drove out to the pasture. The ponies weren’t too easy to load but we did and got them loaded okay. Dad and Charlie Mike took off and Mom, Alex and I came home, We led up the ponies and then I went to town for mail, groceries etc. I napped before lunch and then afterwards went down to feed. Happy was showing some signs of colic, I watched her all afternoon but she didn’t have any more distress so I quit worrying about her. I finished Judy’s letters and then packed up my records. I’ll have to return them now. At 5:00 I began my chores. Annie and I rode out and did those chores. Dad got back just as I finished. He brought Leo Mix and a buckskin Poco Bueno mare. I sure like Leo Mix’s looks, He looks like Annie Gann and they took up with each other right off. Well I guess I’d better go. I’m late and am really shot. Cheers! 

A few brief  notes:  I had joined the RCA Vicotor record club afer Mom got me a small phonograph. They had a good plan with bonus freebies for the ones you actually bought but at times I could not make a payment and had to return some. We had taken some young Quarter horses on consignment and a coupl went back to Paul Babbitt, the dealer. We got the young stallion Leo Mix and a two year old mare this time. Annie Gann was two also and a full sister of Leo Mix. They looked very much alike and seemed to recognize each other. 

****************************** and the mistaken day!!

Just an ordinary day in the life of the cowboy girl  trying to decide what to do with the rest of her life...

July 25, 1963

I got up promptly at 6:00 and fed and did some shovel work. After that I worked on Cindy ‘til breakfast time. Of course all the ponies had to come up as usual. They were okay but Happy was a bit fearful. We drove out. Leo was much improved and we were glad of that. No riding today. Chief and Patsy seem to have survived their dosing okay. I walked to town for mail and some groceries. I got a letter from Mary, the Yavapai fair horse show data, a registry dope sheet etc. Charlie Mike stayed down in the canyon a lot trying to catch  some of the kids but no luck. I spent the afternoon working on Cindy, writing to Mary and reading the August Western Horseman which came yesterday. We did the evening chores as usual. Leo is still improving and had two more shots. We trimmed Ginger’s feet and she was ornery. After supper I put my hair up That is no mean chore. If I am ever wealthy I bet I spoil my children something awful. I want my daughter to be a rodeo queen, belle of every ball, top of the class and so on. In short all I was and also will  never be. Poor kid.

Generally I like to get up early in the summer. I still do really. I am not sure what animals we had at home at this point but it was several of the young Quarter Horse fillies we had acquired earlier in the spring. And I would have had a mule for my regular transportation to the pasture and elsewhere. Shovel work--cleaning corrals as it is never good to let animals stand around in crap. Charlie Mike and I shared this task almost daily. Sometimes he did more and sometimes I did. If we'd had a wheelbarrow it would have helped soooo much but that was not a necessary expense when slave labor was available that really could not complain.  We filled old five gallon buckets and carried them to dump in piles. A guy often came and loaded up a bunch which he sold for fertilizer.

Chief (the Appaloosa stallion) and Patsy, a white Arabian-looking mare I have mentioned before, had been gven a dose of special worm medicine the day before. The  vet gave Patsy a tranquilizer and she was pretty groggy for several hours but came out of it okay.  Leo was the young colt we had gotten with the fillies, also a registered Quarter Horse. He had hurt a leg and got some kind of distemper or other sickness--not real serious but he was too valuable to risk not treating. Ginger was the foal of the paint mare Susie and sired by Chief. She was about six months old at this time, and we were weaning her.

I never did have a lot of skill in doing my hair but had finally developed the ability to use the rollers that were getting to be very popular about that time.I  mostly kept my hair shoulder length or longer. I tried to wash it at least once a week and then either braided the pony tail or put it up so it dried with some wave. My hair is naturally straight--but both Charlie Mike and Alex had nice wavy to curly hair! Not fair.

Did I spoil my second hand kids? Not so much I guess. But they did get things I never had and also were allowed to do a lot I could not. I tried to learn from my experiences and not repeat the mistakes (to my perception) that I had suffered from. I hope I did not perpetuate some dysfunctional aspects.

Gotta have pix! Ginger, about the same time as this date. Patsy at the corral. I often fed grain or supplements in feedbags, all hand stitched from empty bags from grain and such! Next me with Leo--about 1 year old. He was gray with a light wash or undercoat of buckskin--made an unusual color. And me with Happy--she was a  buckskin. Photo does not show the nice white star on her forehead.

Memoir Monday, July 11, 1964

Two years into the cowboy girl life now. I suppose this was one of the better days really. 

July 11, 1964 , Sat

I got up at 5:30 and got busy promptly-fed, ate, led up, hauled water etc. I wore old clothes but took nice ones with  me. We fed at the pasture and went off later than we wished. We missed a few halter classes; too bad. A half sister to George Christiansen’s filly was there, won her class and made reserve champion filly. Mr Cummings was there with three--among his herd was a stud Pat’s age who had already settled two mares and kicked him in the head. His glasses were broken and he nearly got killed. The Johnsons and many others were there. Claire pulled her horse too hard and made him balk on the jumps. You can’t afford to be heavy handed. The class of the horses has improved and there are more entries but the manners are not any better--of either horses or handlers. Ugh. Peterson’s horse didn’t do too well. They say Chief’s filly is now white so they didn’t show her. The ApHC has some novel ideas such as a trailer race etc. which are real crowd pleasers but they are awfully amateurish and not pro. We got home fairly early and I rode out, delivering Rufus to the pasture on my way. Charlie Mike stayed home and cleaned corrals. It is now 10:00 and time for bed since we may get up early tomorrow for the rest of show. Damn, I’m tired. And Mom hasn’t done her share of planning on the ranch stuff so we wait again. Goddam it anyway.

This event was the annual Appaloosa Horse show in Flagstaff. We had gone in 1963 so I already knew how things went.   The normal feeding and basic chores had to be done every day, regardless, and that was expected. I have no idea where I changed from my work grubbies into nicer clothes. It could have been in he loading chute at the pasture I suppose or in a restroom at the fairgrounds after we got there.

I don' know how many readers here are horse show familiar! I was pretty well into the rotine by this time. Most mid-level shows  basically follow a pattern.  The first day is mostly halter classes. There are many for every age bracket and both genders of equines. In a halter class, the handler leads the horse into and around the ring while the judge looks at it--and all the others in that group--and evaluates the animal's conformation, how well it represents the breed in terms of shape, sometimes color and how it moves and to a lesser degree how well it behaves. There are usually several ribbons awarded, sometimes a trophy to the top winner, and the colors go from blue, to red, white and on down past green which is 6th place.  

Unless you have a horse in the competition or know some of them, this is not a reallyexciting day! Of course the George Chritiansen mentioned was also a Clarkdale resident. He had recently acquired a   young Appaloosa female. The next year  he bred her to our stallion, Yavapi Chief and her colt was named Tuzogoot, and a nicely marked appy he was.

I do not place Mr Cummings--though I clearly was familiar with him at this time. I do vaguely recall the accident. That young stud was not well behaved and under control. It was a bit shocking! The state of training and manners of many of the horses did not impress me.  In fact I would have been mortified to be seen in public with animals acting up the way a number that I saw did. Admittedly in the registered/purebred horse venue, mares and young colts were often not trained much--no one would ride them etc. but  they should walk calmly on a lead and certainly not rear, kick, paw or run off. But some did!

The second day is mostly the perfomance classes where the owner or more often a paid trainer puts the horse thrugh its paces in various events from western pleasure  to trail horse, gaits, even sometimes some jumps or other obstacles to be navigated. In some there are events  like calf penning, breakaway roping and gymkana events like barrel or stake racing and relays.At this time the Appaloosa Horse Club  of America (ApHC,) was newer and much less orgaized and actually 'pofessional' than older breeds like the Quarter Horse and Arabian.

Rufus was a big old mule we had gotten from a dealer in Phooenix who gave u a good deal on a big load of hay if we would take the mule off his hands for a modest price. He was a gentle nice animal but very big, almos tinto the draft animal size, and barely suitable as a saddle animal  but we rode him a bit and Charley Bryant had him for awhile when the old trainer waa caught between horses and training jobs and almost afoot. He did not drive so needed some animal transportation,

What the latest 'ranch planning' project was I do not recall. I was appaently miffed that mom had not done 'her share' of whatever paper work or other things were required. She was never too enthusiastic and in retrospect I cannot blame her a bit for that! As time went on I became much less so myself.

Hard to find photos for this. I know I never had one of Rufus. He was big and red and rather ordinary looking.  If Dad took pictures at the show I cannot find them and I did not. Let's see--one of me in a dressier outfit such as I might have worn that day.  Then a mare we kept briefly for the owners so she could be bred by Chief.  She was a fairly typical Appaloosa. And another view of Yavapai Chief.

Memoir Monday, July 4, 1963

The second summer of what in my big memoir is called "My Four Year Sentence." It was just that or maybe my indenture? I often felt like a prisoner or some kind of slave and knew no way to extricate myself once I was in the situation. Almost took a massive explosion!

July 4, 1963 Thursday

I waited until 6:30 to get up today but I finally did and I cleaned out the corrals too. We talked a lot all day but I don’t know if any conclusions have been reached. We drove out to ‘shoot’  Rita. Pepper had bitten Leo Bible’s ear and got beat up for his pains. I led Chief when we got home. Finally I came in. I spent quite awhile making lists of specifications for ranches. I only meant to rest a few minute but I fell asleep and slept for over an hour. After lunch we talked the afternoon away. I led the ponies up. They are always a double handful and tonight was no exception. We drove out and barely finished our chores before the fireworks began so we watched them before supper. They sure were pretty. I do hope we leave here. That’s nearly foremost in my mind now. If nothing has been done by my next birthday, God grant me the courage to strike out on my own. But I hope I shan’t have to. I’m lonely again tonight. It is unnatural for a girl my age not to have some sort of a boyfriend. There really isn’t anything wrong with me. I think in a new area I’d have a better chance. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking…  Oh damn, it all. I feel bad tonight period.

Sometimes we did slow down a little for holidays even if they were not marked with a lot of celebration or anything special. I must have had a hard night or not been feeling well but I had developed enough discipline and determination to do what needed to be done. So I played  "Little Red Hen"--anyone remember that little story?

The young mare Rita was fairly new. She had arrived about mid-February if memory serves. I think at this time we were having a run of distemper going thru the herd and that's what the shot was for--an antibiotic to help ease the symptoms since it was a virus and not too subject to antibiotic treatment. It kept down secondary infections at least.

Pepper was an obnoxius jack burro with a real mean streak. We had to keep him separate from the young mares and filies and he even hassled the older ones. Kicks did not see to faze him. He lunged and bit me in the back one time for no reason. I got a mesquite limb and beat him a bit more than I liked to do to any animal but I was very mad! I was lucky I had on a heavy jacket and that was all he really got hold of. Leo Bibles--some of those Quarter Horses had oldd names, the bibles probably came from her mother-line--was one of the yearlings we had taken on consignment for a bit. We did not end up keeping her. I cannot really remember her color now. Maybe light sorrel or buckskin?

The disillusionment and depression was getting harder to fight off. I did at times and could be fairly content for a bit but then something else would happen and flatten me. I really missed having any sort of social life. I was 21 this year and legally of age. I could have just told the folks, Dad especially, to shove it and gone on as I wished but the enmeshment had me trapped in a cobweb net of psychological confusion and a misplaced sense I truly must not leave as consequences would be awful and I probably could not make it on my own anyway (I had been that beaten down and lost all confidence and sense of self.). I kept setting deadlines for myself only to let them pass and slide away since I could not quite dare....  I was chronically tired. I did do a lot of work but depression can also manifest that way.

I always loved fireworks. We usually watched from our front stoop which faced out to the north with a good view east over the ridge to the Peck's Lake site where Clarkdale did their display at that time. Once or twice Charlie Mike and I had walked over to the lake but that was usually when Dad was away on a trip. 

A few pix for eye candy or interest: The first is me with Alex on that step or stoop. It was July 4 but 1961, so Alex would have been two.  Next is Rita--just another grade Quarter Horse (not purebred or registered) and finally Carolyn  Reed (Lyno), one of the fillies we did keep and a half sister of Leo Bibles--I think they looked much alike.