Monday Memoir, Aug 28, 1965

 August was just about gone. Summers always seemed to go fast.  One year later I was on the brink of the huge change when I morphed from cowboy girl to coed and enrolled at NAU but at this time I had no clue that was actually going to happen. The dream existed but its reality was dim and distant. My sights were not nearly fixed that far ahead. 

Aug 28, 1965 Sat

Got up early after a restless night of dreaming and worrying about Dusty. I fed hastily and ran over to the outfit to be sure they were gone. They were. Charlie Mike and I rode out on Annie and Buzz. A.O.K. The same three are still gone.  We must find them soon. We led Bat and Wowie on the east side of the river up to where you overlook the dam . Seemed incredible that we were there yesterday. I rode out and Charlie Mike did the noon chores. I was in by 1:30.  After lunch I wrote poetry, took a 1½ hour nap and wrote Judy. It showered a little but I rode out anyway. Too ornery to give in, and I didn’t get rained on. We were done nice and early for a change. I walked the dog after supper alone and checked to see that Dusty’s lights were on. Then I came in and wrote him a letter.  I have to get on with some other projects soon. I’m letting too many things go lately. That will never do.  I just love someone too much. It still seems unreal but the acrid scent of creosote and the aroma of cigar smoke bring so many memories now.  I can feel the pressure of his arms around me and the touch of warm moist lips nibbling at my neck and shoulder or clinging to mine and a heavy nose rubbing mine or nuzzling against my cheek. Oh, it’s real all right. The magic summer came at last--and goes too fast. But September and October are good for Taurean’s love affairs too and also December.

The previous afternoon Charlie Mike and I had met Dusty and Johnny at the "swimming hole", up where the dam diverted river water into the feed for Peck's Lake. I  did not swim at all --still cannot--and I don't think Charlie Mike did either so we waded in the shallows. Dusty and Johnny made it look so easy and fun that I hated my huge phobia about water. There was no way although I wanted to.  Dusty took his hat off to go in the water--he wore a cowboy hat any time he did not have his white safety helmet on I think. Rarely went bare headed anyway. We were all kind of kidding around. I got the hat and put it on. He did not notice for awhile and when he did I scampered off! He was still barefooted and that white sand was doggone hot. I relented fairly quickly and took it back but then worried that he was angry or upset. They had to leave and we did too since chore time was coming soon, so we all parted without much more being said and I worried about it. I guess I should have known better. He was not put out but I was still getting used to his ways and general calm attitude . And I was still too used to frequent temper fits over petty things.

Of course the work went on unabated. Charlie Mike and I both felt the folks were surly or grim when we went off for a bit on what was essentially our free time, but out of sight and out of 'control'. Not a lot was usually said but the orders would be more brusque than usual and a few extra duties or tasks often thrown in. 

Charlie Mike was going to start high school early in September and in some ways then got a little more freedom than I had ever been given but still did not have the funds, transportation or permission for  much of a social life. He did get involved with FFA and went to meetings out of school hours and we both attended most of the home football games but that was about the extent of it.  Of course I had to pick up more of the work then but he still pitched in very well afternoons and weekends. Without his help I would have been way up shit creek! It really was not a one person job!

At this stage, we were going into the semi-final year when everything was slip-sliding into worse conditions. Sadly most of the problems were self-created and I have to lay that squarely on my male parent. He could have made changes and tried different directions but he never would so all of us paid a hard price in the end. I still struggle to understand and then to forgive. It is not easy in either case.

Photos--contrasting scenes from the past. The old Clarkdale grade school. Past those trees was the dirt ball field where baseball games were played most  summer evenings. There was Little League and some adult amateur leagues that played many nights when we went to the games. Next is the dam on the Verde as it looked about 2015. I think that area has changed much more with floods the last few years. Then the spur track where they used to park work trains, mostly idle now with the VV Scenic RR running it all. And finally, the dam area as it was in 1965-66. 

 

Monday Memoir, Aug 21, 1965

 The good and the bad, sometimes in a mixture, sometimes in the starkest of contrast. Is that not what and how life really is?  The day before had been Dusty's birthday. While I did most of the early home chores, Charlie Mike  delivered our cards and I think a dozen or two cookies I had held from a batch I made  And then it was Saturday again. 

Aug 21, 1965 Sat

Today was good and bad, a holiday and a chore all in one. I overslept as a result of staying up too late but was out before 7:00. No hurry as we were driving. We talked around the breakfast table and finally set out. It might have been over Dusty’s head (maybe--but he was not at all slow or insular in his ideas)--about the scientific problems of the astronauts etc. We drove out with hay and took Rufus over to Nick’s. His son is sick and he wouldn’t even consider a deal. I was no sooner home than Mar and her outfit came. We went to look at Buckshot (once Tony) and she decided no deal. So that was all more or less wasted motion, so far. After lunch Charlie Mike and I took a hike up to the old dump and it’s really a gold mine of old glass. We found some lovely pieces and must go back soon. We’ll have to tell Dusty about it. We came back by the outfit and I looked at the new cook car and climbed up and down the steps. I suddenly felt at home there, as if I’d climbed down from 1000 80’ steel cars--a prophetic vision? I can scoff but once I scoffed at the idea of ever having any dream come true.  Like being kissed, like walking into someone’s arms…  Charlie Mike and I rode out; nothing unusual. I ironed and now it is shower and bedtime, all too soon. Where do the days go? But the weekends fly and I am glad of that. My least favorite days now are Saturday and Sunday.  The local came in today. Maybe it will resume its old schedule. But I don’t care. Perhaps we’ll move to the Duncan area. OK. Still in Arizona at least but SP instead of ATSF.

What a jumble of a day but for once, no major issue arose. Rufus--a big red mule we had gotten from the hay and livestock dealer in Phoenix, Mr Harrelson. He was a nice mule but almost too big to be a good saddle mule. Nick had a second hand store near the Cottonwood cemetery among other properties. Mar was my friend Maureen Jewel, now going to college but still avidly working on horses. Buckshot was my one-time little Navajo Pony that I had called Tony for Tonalea where he came from. Charley Bryant had swapped dad a mule to get him back (he had first given the horse to me) and then sold him. I had no way to buy him back but now was about to, though just temporarily.

The old dump was past the vacant warehouse building on the north side of Bitter Creek and the west side of the road to the smelter and the depot. I'm not sure how we discovered there was a lot of old glass there but we did and took advantage of that treasure. This was special old glass, most of it the really old kind that turned color when exposed to long term sunlight due to chemicals in its particular composition. Most turned violet, anything from pale lavender to a rich purple, but some went to amber, from pale yellow to a rich deeper almost true amber shade. Of course most there was shards but we did find a number of unbroken whole items from bottles to actual dishes.  One could find such many places around old mines and deserted camps or ghost towns back then. It is very scarce now. Dusty was also a collector as we had recently learned.

B&B 6 had been assigned a new cook car which the local had brought in and cut into the outfit,  probably that day or the last prior visit. Since the crew had the skills, it was up to them to take the gutted old steel passenger coach and remodel it. Over the winter they did a fine job. 

Of course the Morgan pipe dream of moving and setting up that envisioned ranch went on--forever. I no longer took it very seriously. Oddly enough, some years later the parents with Alex--Charlie Mike was gone by then--did relocate to Duncan from Grant County, NM but not to a ranch or anything that grand. In fact Dad died there in an accident and he and Mom are both interred there. 

No photos of Rufus. So sun glass samples. I have some other pieces that have been packed up for years; someday soon I will open the box and get some out to photograph. These are a few I keep out in my memory shelf and 'shrine' area. They are at last 100 years old or more. Next I am bringing up the rear on Tony the summer of 1958 when I had him. Crossing the Verde below Clarkdale--that area looks vastly different now after years of flooding. Then a shot of him with his Navajo first owner. I think he was about two years old then. He became more speckled or roany as he aged. The gray mare may have been his mother. 

Monday Memoir, Aug 14, 1965

 In August 1965, there were quite a few really special good and fun days but it seemed each one had to be 'bought' with at least one really hard, bad and ugly day. This Saturday was one of those. 

        Before I go on, I expect some readers may be having  unanswered questions. (i.e.) Just what was Dusty's status and why I did I often express some concerns or uncertainties about our relationship? So here is a summary, as brief and direct as I can provide. When Dusty and I met in the fall of 1964, his marriage of about eighteen years was irrevocably broken. He was not living at home then. He later told me had he not met me when he did, he would have been with some of his crew that got into serious trouble (drinking, fights etc.) and were all fired by AT&SF and very likely be single despite everything once he became jobless. He had reached the point of giving up, merely existing one day at a time as he kept slogging along. He said he had no one to look up to or strive for, nothing that ‘mattered’ beyond a hope to keep contact with Johnny, his young son, and earn the child’s respect, which the boy’s mother strove constantly to destroy.

     He warned me more than once when we were still simply talking never to “marry for convenience.” I was not exactly sure what he meant, having read the term in novels, yet it seemed to indicate a relatively loveless marriage, built on practical reasons or necessity, almost like arranged marriages among historical aristocrats. I learned his two children were eight years apart and he had worked construction most of those years, being away from home much of the time. If there had ever been a deep and caring bond, it no longer existed. I was not a “home wrecker,” though as time passed, I was often painted  as one when facts were not known.       

     His wife was a devout Catholic and absolutely refused to consider divorce, saying she would take the boy and disappear if he ever filed. She also did not believe in birth control but wanted no more children—so they had not been intimate for some time and he'd moved out. He was miserable as conditions were and never expected to consider another marriage or be more than superficially attracted to or involved with anyone. He said he felt he was too old for that anyway. I only came to learn all of this gradually over a number of months. For the first year, he continued to wear the plain gold ring which no longer had any meaning. An injured knuckle made it nearly impossible to take off the ring. It was also a small safety token to ward off the railroad and construction groupies.  He wanted no part of them. 

     I finally learned in the fall of 1965 how with the aid of an attorney friend, he'd begun to arrange a legal separation agreement to let him stay in contact and spend time with his son as it was not “a divorce” per se. In time, when the boy was older, perhaps he would go ahead and complete the break if there was a reason. The first germ of the idea had been planted, not yet a possible  plan when we met.

August 14, 1965, Sat

Friday the 13^th just missed a day, that’s all. I’ve had it! Got up at 6:30 and did the chores. We got to "talking" over the breakfast table and did not leave until 10:30. Then (at the pasture)  Charlie Mike threw a shovel at Chipper and badly cut his leg. He bled like a pig. Charlie Mike rode Prez home for the Boss and we spent a long while doctoring the poor mule. I rode over to Cottonwood on Leo to get some blood-stop dust for him. Finally got home about 2:30 and barely got midday chores done before a fearful storm struck. It must have rained 2” anyway and the roof leaked all over. Everything was truly a mess. We drove out on the muddy road and barely got there. The pasture chores were a misery and the home ones little better. Who needs to join the Peace Corps to work under difficulties? Oh hell!!! We didn’t even go to check the Bitter Creek bridge. After supper I did the ironing that I should’ve done this morning and now it is bedtime. Dusty and Johnny just missed the excitement. I can hardly believe that just yesterday…but the pattern can reverse  too from bad to good, you know. He’s on my thoughts so very constantly. Everyone would say I am a fool. They’re likely right, but I won’t admit it. So far I have been winning in a way. I still can’t quite get used to Johnny. He has too much butt but other than that is okay. But those “New Joysey” sandals bug me. Why not boots or tennies?  I burned all my old ‘love letters’ this morning--quite a ceremony. Now Jose, Wayne, Cim and Smoky are gone forever. Only Dusty’s letters now….

Those damned 'talks' and it was so nearly impossible just to get up and leave. My seat at the big table was back in a corner and I would have to circle the table and go past Dad's seat by the door to leave the room.  I actually suspected he might grab or trip me if I tried. So Charlie Mike and I were both grumpy. I don't remember what the mule did but Charlie Mike lost his temper. The rest of the day went little better and the afternoon storm was about the final straw.  There was no huge blowup over the mule injury; that is almost odd. 

Once Dusty got B&B 6 set up at Clarkdale he went back to Kingman and brought Johnny over to stay with him for most of the time until school started. That ended our evenings for a bit but we still got together,  with Charlie Mike and Johnny along, a time or two most weeks. Friday, the day before,  we had met them down on the river where the pasture trail took off from the road  and given Johnny a ride on Prez over to where he saw the colts and the rest of the herd. Johnny was nine at this time and clearly going to be huskier than his dad but otherwise there was a strong resemblance. The boy was at that chubby stage before shooting up in another year or two as puberty approached. His sandals shocked me; clearly his mother's choice, which I felt very inappropriate. She was definitely not a westerner!

Pictures are scarce. I never took one of Johnny and I guess never a shot that showed the area we called the Fishing Hole, where our trail to the pasture went along the riverside.  More horses at the pasture corrals. Goodness knows I spent enough time there and Dusty often came out also.  Back to the equines. First, Patsy and Bunny--Patsy the mother of Patrick and Twinkles,  and Bunny of Little Dusty. Charlie Mike (or maybe me) with Tina and Rico. about a month old. (Rico and Little Dusty were close in age.) Peppy and Bunny, both from Gallup NM and home on September 12, 1964.

Monday Memoir, Aug 7, 1965

August 1965 was a good and also challenging month for me. Really getting more intimately acquainted with Dusty was almost incredible and I learned and grew a great deal with that. Things at home and with my current "job", not so much. If one can call my basically involuntary servitude a job --no, I had chosen the role in many ways and stuck it out through some very rough times so it was voluntary. In retrospect, I accept and believe it was meant to be and probably part of the lessons and kiln-style 'firing' that my spirit had planned and chosen before it came to this life. 

A small notice for readers: The corresponding dates in the pattern I follow for the memoirs fall on Saturdays in 1965. Many major things happened on other days in this and a few more months. Rather than dump in a dozen or two 'bridges', I will add an occasional short explanation.  If you truly want to follow all of  "The Unfinished Story" as it has finally been transcribed by the romance writer persona in a 'book' of about 61,000 words-- shorter novel length by comparison-- you can contact me and I will provide a .doc file. 

Aug 7, 1965  Sat

 Got up about my usual hour and did my chores briskly. We took Chief out this morning and did the chores and bred Rita. Got back at 10:30. I had a letter from Kathy and my RCAV bill. Then I had  a "nice encouraging” talk for two hours. Someday I’ll have to shock the hell out of everyone by telling them what I really want. Charlie Mike rode out and I did the noon chores. Read about B&B work on the L&N and then took a nap. It rained a little in the afternoon but Charlie Mike and I were able to ride out. We led Buzz along for exercise. Got through with the chores and eating fairly early and took Ringo for a walk. He learns to “lead” fairly well really. Somehow the lights in Dusty’s camp car keep me from being quite so lonesome. They prove that he’ll be back tomorrow night or Monday morning . I have asked myself if I am sure I want him. It seems incredible but I am really fighting for this now. A year ago I would not have believed it. I had to wait a long time, but is it not worth it? Now I ask only for a bit more. I love you, Dusty, with all my heart.

During the past week, I'd spent  some 'quality time' with Dusty and it meant a lot. We usually met at dusk after supper and drove around some. Charlie Mike went with us; we then  came back and parked down near what was then the Standard Oil Bulk Plant, and to give us a bit of privacy, Charlie Mike went off up the canyon and waited for me. Dusty was always very kind and good to Charlie Mike, treating him like something between a son and a brother.That in itself told me a lot about the man he was.

The L&N (Louisville and Nashville) was our Grandpa Witt's railroad from which by now he had retired but he encouraged Charlie Mike's interest in railroading and gently nudged him toward a career there. He either sent  copies often or even gave us a subscription to the RR's magazine,.Ringo was the puppy we'd kept from the litter born the prior year and was Charlie Mike's dog though I liked him too. I'd  now call it leash training but thought in equine terms then!

I'm  not sure which critters we were riding at this time.And  I am not sure why I led Buzzie instead of riding her and suspect it was Annie or Prez and another mule or another of the young horses. For a short time the work was going along fairly well with no huge issues, blow-ups or drama. Enjoy it while it lasts as that was not the common state. Earlier in the week I convinced Dusty to drive out the River Road and go to the pasture with us so he could see his 'namesake',  my little Dusty colt. He rode Prez across the last flats and back later. I was too exciting trying to photograph the two "Dustys" together and double exposed two pictures. Always regretted that as they could not be sorted out but they would have been so special. That was a flaw in simple old snapshot cameras! 

So as always a few photos.  A closeup of Dusty on Prez,  MoonSpinner in the  background.This was the end of the River Road, above the"fishing hole" on the river. One of the spoiled pictures--saved them even though they were messed up. And another shot of Dusty on Prez. He was not a cowboy but always dreamed of owning a ranch and had become very western despite growing up in upstate New York.  This was at the NW corner of the pasture at the gate I usually entered by. That big grove of Cottonwoods is still mostly there. .