Memoir Monday, Feb 27, 1965

Again the weather was a bit nicer than what I  have seen locally in recent days. But even then there were windy, cold, gray and wet days that had to be survived as best I could. What does not kill you makes you stronger perhaps? Maybe that is why and how I still keep on keeping on.

Feb 27, 1965 Sat

            I got up and fed etc. We had to change a tire before we drove out but were fairly early anyway.  No problems . Saddled Annie and rode up for mail. There was a passel--an envelope from Judy, a letter from Flagstaff--Dusty of course. My hands shook as I opened it. “Dear Angel… “ Oh it was a relief, and so wonderful. Four pages from the one I love and every word worth so much, even the misspelled ones. He bawled me out a little but sweetly. (I probably had whined a little too much on some bad days) I led Leo first. He felt pretty high. Chief next, and then Lyno to the pasture. Put Annie up and quit at 1:30. After lunch everyone rested and I wrote to my beloved. After last night’s thoughts I couldn’t desert him for anything. He has been having trouble. The folks did the chores tonight. I made cookies and would have done more but Mom refused to tell me what to do.  She won’t let me help. I played records, wrote Mary and loafed this evening. I have paid $20 for $60 worth of records so far. I may try to sell two to pay for the Moffo and Franchi one (Dream Duet).  Dusty’s letter made today for me, really. He is still in Flag now and may be for several more weeks apparently. Somehow I’ve got to convince him how I feel. Maybe he knows. He says the only thing that has kept him in line the past two months is me, whatever that means. I need to talk to him again but I guess I can’t. I couldn’t even if he was here, really. Well, someday… Anyway he wrote me and he is all right. Maybe I can get an answer or two from him now. I will try.

Changing tires as I may have mentioned a week or two back was a regular chore. We were driving poor tires on the pickup and flats were common. Dad usually jacked up the vehicle and switched the wheels but Charlie Mike and I manned the pump to be sure the replacement was up to correct inflation. If you ever had to use one of those old manual pumps, you know what a taxing job that can be. Bless the inventor of the air compressor!!

Getting the mail was a job I took care of often and it was not one I minded. Many days nothing came for me but letters were always a treat and fun. Those many years of pen pals kind of assured I would get something many days.The Mary mentioned was one. I had several friends named Mary over the years but it is a common name.  And at this point, waiting for one from Dusty--and being rewarded-- was a real bright spot. It was only two weeks from the Valentine and his promise to write soon but it had felt very long. I really had no one else to confide in or even complain to, and I suspect I abused that at times. He was always patient with me there.

It was a novelty for the folks to do the chores and I am  not sure why that happened this day. Not to have to go out to the pasture either riding or driving and apparently not even do the home part was a mini-vacation. So I cooked. I would have made supper but mostly Mom did not ask or even let me help in the kitchen very much. I rarely fussed or complained when it was necessay. By this point I could make several main dishes and considered myself a master cookie chef!

The record I mentioned was one I had recently received. It featured two fairly well known opera and classical-pop singers of the time doing duets of operetta and musical comedy love songs. The whole family except perhaps Charlie Mike, who was getting more into rock by then, liked it. I played that Bogo variant game with RCA record club for all it was worth!

I still had my spells of doubt or fear that Dusty really did not care or want to stay in touch, much less see me again. I was also curious, seeking to know *everything* about him. I asked questions and sometimes he answered them, usually in a few very simple words. Really he gave me almost no reason to fear or wonder or doubt. That was just me, where and how I was at this troublesome time in my life.

Pictures: What fits and has not been used several times? I'll go peek into that flashdrive. Okay, looking to the southwest from my backyard. Probably early spring with snow on Mingus. The old middle school or junior high building was still standing then. Then Clarkdale, getting very desolate with many vacant houses in the lower town and such a sad, depressed look by 1965. And a more recent view--this was the Post Office in those days and I would tie my mount at a light pole about where that tree is and go in the door to the left of that walkway. One box we had was 964. I forget a few others. I know the current PO is over where the shop classes for Clarkdale/Mingus High were then or was last time I looked. 

Memoir Monday, Feb 20, 1965

 Time to travel back again, many years, many miles... Mom's birthday had been the previous day, probably passed rather quietly but I may have made a cake (chocolate, her fave) or cooked dinner for her. Still, life soon went on in its normal routine way. We were not doing large celebrations and generally had not for a long time.

Feb 20, 1965 Sat

            I got right up and did my work like a good girl.  Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out after a biscuit breakfast. I saddled Annie up and got the mail. Only a letter from Laura for me.  Dusty, how could you? I rode over to Cottonwood. Read in the waiting room. Dr Joe P got a large charge out of my gun. I went home via the pasture and let the mares out. When I got home, I ate lunch and then watered everyone good. Took about an hour off and loafed in the ‘spring fever’ sun. It sure felt good. I rode Annie out and led Buzz along for exercise. Dusty has been on my mind all day. I’m wondering where he is and all. I’m wondering why he hasn’t written. I have had the feeling the last two days that very soon my life is going to be changed drastically. I don’t know how, when or why but I have that feeling. Spent the evening playing records and writing to Judy--17 pages, no less. Now it is getting up toward 11:00. Got to haul hay tomorrow and what all else I don’t know. Plenty, doubtless. Well, I don’t care. No mail for two days now. Why did I ever get myself into this? I’m the world’s biggest fool but here I am. And I wouldn’t change for the world. Guess I am really a trollop at heart not to be ashamed or sorry. So be it. G’night all. Dream of me, Dusty mine, and I will dream of you.

Mentioning biscuits for breakfast. I often made them--usually drop biscuits as I really did not like rolling out and cutting. Lazy me! I always called them "porcupine biscuits" but that may have been coined by Charlie Mike or Alex. With honey or jam they were a small treat. 

Dental problems were frequent. I probably had a toothache again and needed a fillng or even a tooth pulled. Dr Joe Pecharich was a family friend and did a lot of care for us pro bono. He was a kind man but big and seemed heavy handed to me, not gentle, and I probably left fingerprints in the arms of that chair many times, trying not to wail or scream. But he was generous with pain pills for me. Milder early opiates or substitutes I think.  I carried my sidearm most of the time when I was riding which was nearly daily and often included a trek to Cottonwood. I wore that old .32 right into the dental office and Dr Joe thought that was both funny and cool. 

Yes I had begun to think or feel my life would change sooner rather than later; that was only partly true. But events by late summer actually saw or caused some wheels to begin to turn although the final result was still more than a year away. I still set myself some deadlines to leave etc. that I never met or followed up on them. Still, a range of people and events began to break the inertia. 

The weather must have been then like it was here yesterday. Those first spring-feeling days were always so welcome and such a blessing.  The gray, dull, cold, windy or wet ones seemed to be prevalent and always a burden and a downer. With the work that had to be done regardless, they were at times pretty grim, bleak and hard. 

Judy, and to some degree my other long-term pen pal, Linda, and I exchanged many very long letters. We joked about "Crime and Punishment" letters: a crime to write and a penalty to read. But they were not, really. That sharing meant a lot to us. For various reasons, we were all often lonely and feeling we somehow did not fit in or were not where we really belonged. 

It is hard to find photos for this period, really. I did take a lot when I was out riding and today am glad I did. That area has changed so much and in time I left it to go into a very different life and now, despite the anguish and struggles, I feel a lot of nostalgia. There were many good hours, even some good days. SO:  1. Looking across the old TAPCO power plant and Coons' ranch. 2. From the hills east of the highway, looking up the river. 3. From beside the Clark Memorial Bldg looking across Bitter Creek at rail yard and old smelter --last stack still standing. 4. From the hills west of highway, view of lower Clarkdale. I am shocked whenever I go back how different it all looks.  So '64-'66  for these; how long it has been!

Memoir Monday, Feb 13, 1965

Sometimes I just pulled up my socks and said  I was not going to admit doom or gloom for the whole day. And sometimes it worked. The weather must not have been bad that day for it would have been  much  harder to stay cheerful!

Feb  13, 1965 Sat

            I awoke this morning and decided that this was going to be a good day. It was. I went down to feed and then ate and got ready to go to the pasture. We did all the chores and June came by and talked about hay etc. She has a lot of sad stories and wants the money. We fixed the mud hole and will do more soon. Came home and discussed some. I rode up for mail--a letter came from Uncle Dan with a $100 check and a letter from Governor Goddard. For me the TMC Bulletin, Nevada college data and…a Valentine from Dusty!! I nearly turned a handspring right there in the PO. Came home and rebuilt the little ponies’ feedbox with Charlie Mike. That was a major job. Finally got that and the noon chores done. After lunch we drove to June’s to argufy about hay. By talking horses for an hour we finally got 38 more bales for a total of $70--(for 38 + 30). That’s a pretty fair deal. It took some doing though. We did the pasture chores briefly on the way home and Charlie Mike helped me unload. We finished the home chores and came gladly in. Had supper quite late. I managed to get a letter written to Tee and that was about all. I’ve kept looking at Dusty’s Valentine all day. It is so pretty. He said he’d “right soon” so I’ll be looking for a letter next week…and looking hard. I was really thrilled anyway. So I get two this year but only one that matters. Better get me off to bed. There’s lots to do tomorrow. This morning I caught Annie and put her in the corral. Charlie Mike and I found two bottles down in the field too. Manana will be busy all day I know. Today was long, but really not bad. I’m so relieved. The Valentine was mailed Thurs in Flag.

Of course the chores went on as usual but we did drive out and then talked to June and later went over to Dead Horse Ranch and came home with some needed hay for a moderate price.  In between there were the constant repair jobs, filling in mud holes that got stomped out when the wet times happened, and rebuilt gates and feedboxes. I got pretty good at picking out boards to replace a chewed up or broken one and geting it nailed or wired back in where it needed to go. Charlie Mike was catching on to this sort of task too, and we were learning how to work as a team and cooperate  He was to turn fourteen this year but that was in the fall. Unloading hay was not fun; it got stacked in a tin building that was probably intended to be a garage and it got very stuffy and dusty up near the ceiling when we stacked high and you could bang your head or scrape your back on the beams and had to work hunched over. This batch was not the huge heavy bales anyway so we could manage them okay,

TMC was The Mustang Club. They were devoted to trying to save wild horses in the southwest and get them trapped humanely and then up for adoption. My friend Shirl (Shirley Coulter Atchley had given me a membership. They had a monthly newsletter or bulletin and several members advertised stationary and other thngs they had designed and made for sale. I never did but thought about it; finding the time and getting supplies were the roadblocks. I maybe could have advertised my western shirts since I had gotten pretty good at making them by this time.

Finding pop bottles was always a good thing. I can't remember what the recycle refund price was--just a few cents--but we valued every penny we could earn that way. I am not sure who I was riding at this point since I mention getting Annie in at the pasture. It may have been Prez or one of the smaller mules. I swapped them around a lot as we now had quite a few that were reasonably reliable.

Of course the Valentine from Dusty made my day. In an instant, I got over my pique at him for not writing for awhile. As I said, I looked at it over and over--it was pretty and sweet and a surprise, as well. He mentioned he'd write (spelled 'right') soon but it was actually a couple of weeks and the euphoria faded a bit in the meantime. But I treasured this token. I found it in my keepsake box which I finally got into after Jim had passed away, probably in spring 2004.

Pictures: The Valentine.  Me with Annie and a mule called Mindy. Annie was tall but not quite as tall as Tina. I was about 5'7 3/4" and long legged enough to get up on the taller ones easier than when I was smaller and younger. And Charlie Mike with Ringo. Ringo was the only male in a litter Bonnie, a  roadside rescue, produced so he became the family dog for some time; actually he was Charlie Mike's. This was probably spring 1964. 

Memoir Monday, Feb 6, 1965

 Apparently some wet and colder weather had arrived since the prior week and in general things were not going too well. Such issues were more the rule than an exception. When you have less than optimum facilites and conditions in general it does not take much to put a monkey wrench in the machinery!

Sat Feb 6, 1965

            I awoke stiff and sore, smelled the rain and groaned quietly. Splashed out to do the chores. Mom and I drove out. It was a mess. I walked uptown after drying off from the chores. Got a letter from Judy and a new one. Bought a few groceries and came home. Had lunch and did the noon chores, still in the rain. We concluded we needn’t buy hay ‘til Sunday,  I spent the afternoon writing to Laura and Judy. Dad drove Charlie Mike and me out. It was one helluva mess out there. I have had enough rain to last me 100 years. It settled down for the night just as we finished feeding here. I played records all night while working on a mailer to send to Judy. It will be a passel of stuff. No use bathing tonight as I had planned. I’ll be filthy a little longer I guess. If it is still bad tomorrow I’ll sew. I  hope we can get this article of mine done soon so I can send it off before the end of the month at least. Guess I’d better trot off. It is 10:30 and cold in this buggy jail. I really don’t feel like anything is real anymore. That’s the only way I keep from cracking up utterly. Dusty failed me again--no letter. I’ll mail Cim’s(Baird) letter on Monday. Dusty can’t do me this way and get by with it. He better have an awfully good excuse. I think he’s worried now. Well, ok. If that’s the way you want it I love you but you can’t walk out on me that way without my reacting .

There was no riding or leading this day; it seems to have rained almost all the time. Maybe it did let up some as I went up town and did what needed to be done and probably would not have walked and carried stuff home if it was too wet. I guess we thought we could manage on whatever hay we had since trying to go get any, bring it home and keep it dry enough not to mold or go bad would have been challenging.

I know I have mentioned Judy often enough. She'd been one of my early pen pals and so we'd been correspondng for some time now. She was a good artist and had worked with me on illustrations for my in-progress YA novel, Cindy and the Challenges. Now I was asking her to do some pen and ink work for the horse training article or articles I was working on and I was hopeful of getting it submitted to Western Horseman soon. I was still really very naive about publishing but had been seeing Dad send things off to magazines for years and getting almost as many acceptances and checks as rejections so I figured I could do it too! Not quite that easy, I found, but I did try. Laura was another pen pal, She got married and we quit writing before too much longer.

Playing records was a relief and an escape of sorts. Maybe music really does sooth the savage beast! Most of my records were music the whole family liked and enjoyed so that was seldom a bone of contention. I think Mom did realize how much her gift meant not just to me but to all of us. Good old trading stamps. For impoverished folks, it was a good way to get things you might not be able to simply afford. This was one of the most valued though, along with my little camera that I got for Christmas 1961.

I had come to rely so greatly on Dusty's letters and got too upset when they were late or slow. I knew he had trouble writing and suspected that the work situation was often really difficult with the bad weather that winter and spring, worse up in Flagstaff and both directions along the I-40/66 highway and the Santa Fe main transcontinental line. Mostly I was just blowing off steam with my complaints and forgivness came readily with each new missive.  I still had my doubts at times, too, and despite evidence to the contrary, had trouble believing that he really did care for me and I was 'worthy' of that regard. The cowboy girl was very insecure and lacking in self esteem.

After a few weeks of relative calm, various problems seemed to have cropped up where the parents were arguing and fighting a lot and a good deal of that angst dribbled down on us kids. I wanted so very much just to pick up a few treasures and vamoose--anywhere but there. Yet I could not. I did not think I could support myself; I feared the animal swould suffer as well as probably my brothers; and I felt "responsible" for trying to hold things together that were continuously on the verge of unraveling,

Of course I did not take pictures of the mud and the mess, the animals wet and maybe cold, Charlie Mike and me in the old rubber boots and oil cloth raincoats--which of course leaked. And the struggle to get feed out  to them all and hope they did not waste much since it was mostly dear in terms of costs. And any obvious waste was always said to be our fault for not doing a good job. No wonder gray, wet and chilly days still make me get depressed.  So I am not sure what I can do to add some visual here. Well, a few of Judy's "Cindy" drawings --sorry they are mostly sideways. Not able to fix tight now.