The more things stayed the same, even as they changed in little increments from one day to another. March was winding down then as it is now and I was anxious for spring and warm weather to arrive. Looking back, I realize this present year of a damp chilly spring is not that unusual. Climate has changed some but the cycles still go on.
Mar 27, 1965 Sat
Got up right at 7:00 and fed. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the pasture chores. We left for our look-see about 9:00. Got over to Humboldt and found the place okay and then had to wait for the salesman. We found a dozen pop bottles for our time anyway. The place is disappointing as they always are. Oh, I guess it would be okay in a necessity but I can’t see stretching and giving so much up and having to sacrifice twenty years just to get that. The range is awfully abused and we saw very few cattle. Nope, that’s not it as far as I am concerned. I’d really like to be on 66, myself, or near the ATSF somewhere if we’re to stay in Arizona. But I’m not willing to crawl like a whipped pup and accept some turkey of a “ranch.” Ruth sent us $1000 so now we can pay the Fee mortgage interest if we must. Maybe we can stall a bit though. Something is going to happen. I’m more sure than ever now. It may be good or bad but things are going to change. Wish I had heard from Dusty today but maybe next week. Have to get used to him being slow now; better late than never. We either win or lose soon and I really don’t care very much. Just so this ends.
The endless 'ranch hunt' went on, basically through the summer of 1966 when the dominoes began to tip and then started to fall. That still took a year to reach the final collapse but it was coming. The pending disturbance was one I could feel. I really recall very little about this place, the most recent to be considered. It seems the house was small and not in the best repair and as I observed here, the range was not in good shape. I think it had been dry the prior fall and winter despite the spring's tendency to be stormy and chilly and of course it was not yet warm enough for things to begin turning green.
The northern cross-state highway was properly I-40 by then but still seemd like "Route 66" to many of the old timers, of which I was almost one myself, by now nearly a twenty-year resident of Arizona. Of course the highway really meant the paralleling Santa Fe transcontinental main line which was a critical feature in my world at that point. There were more branch and connecting lines then but those tracks were very important to me.
Finances were the usual mess. The folks had taken a mortgage on at least part of the twenty acres down the valley and a payment was probably due. As so often happened, Dad whined to his siblings and they reluctantly coughed up. To this day I am ashamed and grieved that my parents, two people with college degrees and supposedly above average capabilities and opportunites, fell into this appalling state of extreme poverty. Rather than try to actively work their way out of that hole, they just kept digging it deeper and then seemed to expect they deserved to be 'bailed out' because of course none of this dreadful situation was their fault! In retrospect I am still furious. Ruth was my dad's next older sister and was working as a teacher in a big high chool in Sacramento at that time. She may have been some kind of principal or dean; I do not know. Anyway, none of Dad's siblings were "rich," even Uncle Dan who had a successful medical practice then.
I knew I was living my present life on "borrowed time" to some degree--we all were--and that major change was inevitable. Somehow I still had vague hopes it would be positive. Perhaps all could have been redeemed for a short while yet but that was certainly far beyond my ability to accomplish, however much I might wish to do so. The intensifying stress and continuous intrafamily drama was corrosive and hard on the nerves. It was eroding me in a dozen ways.
In the last letter or two I had received, Dusty had spoken a bit about the difficulties he'd been having and the struggle with bad weather and many other delays and detours that impeded the progress of his gang on the work they were assigned in Flagstaff. I finally realized though he might think of me often, finding the time and energy to write a letter was challenging. That eased my mind a bit and I tried to cultivate more patience and not become doubtful and feel abandoned when I did not hear from him every couple of weeks. How useful it would have been to have a mobile phone and be able to reach out with a few keystrokes to communicate. Such things did not yet exist and of course I would not have had one in any case. We are so spoiled today!
If I had owned a modern phone I might have snapped photos of some of those "ranches" we visited but I did not have film to burn and it did not even occur to me. There was really little to take pictures of! So I will snatch a few odd shots out of my old files for visual 'tax' of sorts. These were all taken later, in 1966-67 when I was at NAU, but I am sure it looked similar when B&B #6 was there. The first is a truck much like theirs. The next two are part of a work train or outfit parked on a siding out in the main yard east of town. And the last is fairly wide angle view of the Flagstaff yard. Yard in terms of railroads can be a misleading term--there are no fences or neatly contained area like around a house! Instead there are a number of tracks connected with switches and some stubs or spurs where an oufit or 'bad order' equipment may be parked.
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