Memoir Monday April 29, 1966

 A fairly quiet and ordinary day. Obviously no major catastrophes or blow ups. Yes, I am sure I was properly thankful. Two days earlier on my birthday I noted in my journal that no one spoke a harsh word to me all day. That was remarkable enough to be noted!

April 29, 1966 Friday

Got up and fed etc. as routine. Mom and I drove out. I hastily saddled Buzzie to do my leading. No mail for me so letters to Dusty and the Witts were mailed. I led Rico and Twink on the River Road and met Joan Graf by the bridge. She won first in trail horse at Camp Verde and her Louie had a colic on April 6. Isn’t that weird? I rushed and rushed but Mom drove me to my dental appointment. It was a misery but I’ve got a new filling in now. I put $4.00 in the bank and my $20 has earned 20 cents interest for me. So I have $24.20 now. Did the evening chores as routinely. Spent the evening sewing. I have an empire muu-muu, a pair of snug blue shorts, a blue and white angel top and a lavender and floral apron for my efforts. Took down Chief’s final feed about 10:30 and tumbled wearily into bed.

Really 23 now and trying to move ahead and find some hope and plan for a future that was not like the present. Actually I had four more months on my "sentence" but only the slightest inkling that a major change was soon going to find me. There were some hard trails ahead but each stride got me a step closer to the magic moment early in September. 

Let's see--Joan Graf was the chief ranger at Tuzigoot National Monument who had arrived a few weeks earlier. She was also a horse lover and we got acquainted, mostly by happenstance since I rode nearby and sometimes cut through the monument on the road we used to access the pasture.. Of course I was almost ordered to use that friendship for profit in some way--sell a horse to her (whether she needed or wanted another or not!) or prevail on her to book a breeding by one of our two stallions.  I did not accomplish either so naturally was berated and condemned for my ineptness, laziness and all else that made me so inferior. If I were not worthless, I would have gotten that job done...She had a Quarter Horse gelding named Louie and I think a mare. 

Rico was Tina's older son and now near two years old. I should have been getting ready to train him but that was just not going to happen. I do not think it would have been any harder than say Patrick and Ginger, but I probably would have had to get permission (since he was not officially mine anymore) and I balked at that but did not quite dare to just do it. The old rock-and-hard-place I found myself in so often. Twink (Twinkles) was Patrick's full sister, a year younger. so not yet ready to begin riding. Then there was Dingbat, Peppy's colt, who had come to us as a few months old with the two mares Peppy and Bunny. He was close to two also. 

It may have been a small act of defiance but I spent the evening sewing instead of on any of the favored and supposedly 'worthy' tasks.  I had not quite come to really saying "Eff off" to the Boss but was moving in that direction. I do not specifically recall those garments. An "angel top" was an invention of mine taken  off the same basic pattern as the muu-muu or "voluminous" I made for patio dresses, lounge wear etc.  There was a round yoke (pop over your head)  to which the main part was gathered so it flowed freely. Sleeves were of various styles from puffed to ruffled or fairly straight.  The dress style was knee length or a bit below and the tops were just past the waist. Some of the dresses were gathered under the bosom, or high-waisted and then flowed free below that. 

As I think I mentioned last time, we were giving some of the horses who had been sick a small, extra, late feeding, sometimes grain, mash or a little flake of hay. I would do that, sometimes with Charlie Mike's help, just before bedtime.

Photos? Nothing new but here are a few. First is Bravo, probably that spring. He had almost the same blaze Tina did and the same foot white. A real mini-me of his dam.  Next is "Dingbat" about the same time and age--short two year old. Then Charlie Mike with Twink. Last the old original muu-muu. The sleeves had been replaced from the original where they were the same fabric. For some reason, I still have it. It is somewhat sentimental.  Kind of hard to see the construction from the photo but it is very easy. 

Memoir Monday April 22, 1966

The major crisis had faded and all the animals were recovering. I was still worn out and very stressed since I  knew a "created" crisis was inevitable now that a degree of calm had returned.  "Business as usual" was anathema to The Boss.  He would have to invent some catastrophe or issue to remain large and in charge. That was his style. 

April 22, 1966, Friday

Got up and about early. Mom and I drove out at 7:30 leaving Charlie Mike to get Alex and himself off to school. The Boss left for Prescott early. Mom sent me off to be out of the way which kinda upset me. I was all for packing up and going right away, really. We talked most of the morning away and I had to hurry to get the midday chores done, bathed and head for the dentist.  I had to wait awhile and finally got my tooth drilled out but have to go back next week to have it filled. Oh hell. I rode over to Old Nick’s. Sold my recorder for $5.00, a poor price but I need the cash. He wasn’t interested in Rufus but listened to my tale of woe about injured and killed animals and all. The Boss got home about 5:00 and reported on his trip and then threatened me with all kinds of dire stuff, apparently thinking I really intended to run off at once and live with Dusty without benefit of marriage. He is sure trying to make me out a whore and I get awfully riled sometimes. But things cooled down. “Don’t blow your cool, Baby.” The evening chores were done in due time and I read the new Reader’s Digest. After supper I made up my purple floral peasant blouse quickly before going down for the final feeding. By golly a few more days of this will bury me but I don’t reckon it matters. Dusty has been gone five weeks now and not a line have I heard. I’ve been ditched, don’t you think? Well bullshit. Don’t blow that cool.

I still rode out some through this period but often Mom and I drove out. We went early today as The Boss had a trip planned. At this point I could hardly bring myself to say"Dad"; he had turned into a tyrant and was totally unpredictable and unreasonable much of the time. I guess that was why Mom shooed me off when we got back before he left. She knew my fuse was getting very short.We talked but did not resolve anything.

I rode to Cottonwood to the dentist and then on to the junk store about a half mile along the highway through town at that time.The real name of the proprietor refuses to come to me. I knew it once, I am sure. So then I was home and the Boss returned. I guess his trip did not go quite to plan as he was already not happy. And the created issue started at once. If  nothing else, then his vision of my running off to shack up would suffice. He could threaten and fume and damn me for that. I had told Mom several times I was NOT going to go off that way, and emphasized Dusty did not want me to and would not allow it. So where and why? Yes, I had recently said frequently I wanted to leave but the purpose was to find a job, not elope! There was little I could say and expect to be heard so I strove to keep cool. The rant ran down and things fell back into the routine. The late feeding had been established as the animals recovered and kept their feed disbursed throughout the long day. More work, sorting and such. Charlie Mike and I did it.

I went on as if all was okay but I had lost the little progress made in pulling out of my depression. Death would be such a relief... It is sad and bad to feel that way. I got past it but not quickly or easily. Less than a week later I turned 23. 

What pictures will work here?  Some natural portraits of the family. Mom first, she was about 46 and probably in peri-menopause which I did not understand at the time but she was not doing well. Next is Dad--the Boss--apparently displeased about something--or anything. Midlife crisis at age 54 perhaps. Charlie checking a tire. Next Charlie, not quite 15, with his normal grim or sullen face. He was certainly not happy. And last me, holding a mule we called Dynamite. I did not look too happy either. Were any of us, ever?

Monday Memoir April 15, 1966

 At this very low point, I was despondent and disgusted beyond any hope for awhile .I was exhausted and sleep-deprived. It would have been so easy to just lie down and give up, try to will myself to go out like a light or somehow get in front of a speeding vehicle--by accident, of course. The final back-breaking straw had been losing Little Dusty. Yet in a way that, following Tina's death, set me free. As was once said:  What is freedom but nothing left to lose? I was so very close to that point. 

April 15, 1996 Friday

Another one now--four weeks since the outfit left and not a line from Dusty. Got up and went down to feed and found Leo sick. I’d like to have died right then. But one cannot choose apparently. They took him to Shauffler’s of course. Charlie Mike did the pasture chores and I watched Lyno who was also ailing.  They brought back some shots for her. They refuse to believe me when I say I want to go. I guess they just can’t accept it . I’ll have to keep telling them. So I am a liar, cheat, whore, bad as a Commie... You know what?   I couldn’t care less.  Yeah, I sold myself for $20; that’s really how it was and I may as well admit it. If he ever writes, I’ll be surprised. I’ve been taken for a fool again, and in about the worst way this time. I am just shit-full of horses, especially sick ones, the Verde Valley and all its inhabitants, and too many other things to list. I promised Dusty I would not kill myself and promised Judy, too. But I can happen to an accident, can’t I? My promises aren’t worth a damn anyway. Especially when they are made under pressure, I might. add Well, I ain’t making any more. That is one sin I’ll quit being guilty of. If you don’t make any promises you can’t very well break them. Had to take Leo back to the vet for tubing and even with that we had to stay up all night with him.  Now at 6:45 he seems to be recovering fairly well. Do hope so. The thing that breaks me up is  Little Dusty really didn’t have a chance. I’ll admit to erring when I put him back in the pen but I was in a bind and it was the Boss’s surly temper and Mom’s carelessness that put me there.  Shauffler was out of town but had my colt been tubed and properly tranquilized I think he’d be alive today. But he was my horse, so… Well I watched the last horse I loved die.  Buzzie is okay but she's just another horse. I’ve been criticized so much about how I broke her that she’s about ruined for me. I never broke a horse by myself before--Pat and Ginger were after her--she was the first I did alone. She is gentle and safe; Charlie Mike can ride her and I can do quite a few things with her. She is far from perfect but she is no outlaw or barn sour or anything. I’m really wound up--or unwound...just not sure which. There are so many injustices in this old world. Stop the world and let me OFF!! My stomach is sick. I’ve been sick for two months I think.  I dread my next period. If it’s like the last one... something is badly out of order with my system. Well, I don’t give a damn, really. Except I think I’ll just suffer and not die. 

This one is awfully bleak. I have been lower a time or two but this was basically a real  nadir point in my life. Depression had swallowed me whole and my outlook was so darkened and poisoned by it.  The loss of my 'baby' was brutal. He was always special to me, somehow delicate and gentle, rather deer-like in many ways. He really was not fragile but fine boned and seemed little though he was not.. I did see a single backward blessing in knowledge  he now would never have to suffer any brutal treatment during training, for some small transgression that would have been inevitable, but my heart was truly broken at the time. He had been gone two days here. I always felt as if he was the last one to be sick but that was not true; several more to include Leo and Lyno followed him and were saved. 

Now having lost both Tina and Little Dusty, I might have asked to have Rico or Bravo in replacement but I probably thought I would have been laughed at. Who was I to expect the two I had somehow caused to die should be replaced?  I had already spoiled the one horse I had left and made her worthless. She got sick but did not die. How could I expect more? The fact I had trained both Patrick and Ginger and made them fit to be sold had no significance. In some ways they were also supposed to be mine and I did not get a cent from their sales nor a single word of praise for my efforts. 

As for my dismal assessment of the situation with Dusty --the big one--and myself,  it was strictly an echo of the slurs and ugly, brutal things I had been hearing. Yes, I was a filthy tramp and an immoral piece of shit.  Of course no one could possibly love me and my 'love' was a cheating lecher, anyway.  Ye Gods, but I was bitter and broken right then.  I did hear from him early in May and learned he had been sick for weeks, probably walking pneumonia which with his asthma was potentially very bad. He was worried about being take out of service (forced medically to at least take a leave of absence).  No wonder he had not written.

By the next week I had pulled myself a few yards up out of the hole. Life did go on and was mostly almost tolerable.  It had taken a colossal effort,  but we had pulled the herd through the crisis and slowly things went back to 'normal' as much as they could approach that status. 

Photos: I have posted Little Dusty before-- I can't  bear to do it again now. I had no new pictures of Big Dusty at this time either.  I think I will simply grab one I stole off line some time ago. It surely fits the mood! I present the Goddess of Depression...

Monday Memoir, April 8, 1966

 April 1966, all at once we were besieged with equine sickness again. Twinkles was Patsy's second colt, about a year old at this time. The next few weeks were an almost endless sequence of equine health problems, not all of which ended well. By the end of it I was a wreck!

April 8, 1966 Fri

A hard day’s night and a hard night’s day following one another. I slept about two hours last night on the kitchen floor between Twinkles watches. At daylight we gave her another enema (Charlie Mike and I) and got several bits of mucus and pus out of  her. She just kept getting worse, though. Finally we headed for  the pasture. Charlie Mike and I did the chores and Mom went over to Shauffler’s for some medicine. Some creep from Texas came by to 'look at the mules' and about scared me. I was so tired. I knew I’d be dead if I was any tireder. When we got home, a guy was there talking to the Boss. He wanted to buy  burro to go on a pack trip into Sycamore hunting buried treasure. He and a buddy bought Lila for $60.  In the afternoon Dad hauled them up to the tank where we released Rita and left them. Charlie Mike and I did the chores and hunted a little pottery. Twink was still worse so we took her over to Shauffler. He met us on the road and treated her in the trailer. He said he thought she had an aneurysm and might die. But anyway she had a chance.  Chief had a little distress while we did the evening chores so we had to watch him. At 10:00 we gave Twink another shot of tranquilizer and went to bed. Charlie Mike and I went down to check at 12:00. Twink was a little restless but she seemed better. Chief was not getting bad fast anyway. This has been quite an amazing day--good and bad. I had a two hour nap in mid-afternoon that saved me, more or less. 

Over the next couple of weeks I spent quite a few nights on the kitchen floor, fully dressed with maybe a pillow and a light blanket so I could get up every other hour to go check on, administer medicine or get and walk an animal in distress. I've always been a light sleeper and if needed, I could almost make myself wake up on a pre-set schedule. I used that many years later when my husband had a severe staff infection and had to have an IV antibiotic via a surgically inserted port several times in each 24 hour period for about ten days. Back in 1966, it became an ongoing near-nightmare as one after another of our herd fell ill to this peculiar ailment. There was colic, some signs of distemper and in some cases other symptoms. In some ways it almost seemed there was "something in the air"  for I knew of some other people's equines having problem about the same time. I guess I will never know. 

We took several over the the Vet Clinic and had Dr Shauffler out to Clarkdale as well . The sickness all occurred there at our corrals in the canyon, none at the pasture. Equine colic is a digestive problem--a bit like a fussy baby-- when there is pain and may be diarrhea or blockage. The biggest danger is for the animal to get down and roll in their agony, frequently twisting a gut in the process.  Surgery is usually the only way to save them and can still be very iffy. Walking them and keeping them on their feet is about the only way to deal with it. How many miles did I stumble up and down the alley in the dark...not quite sleep walking.

 Lila was a little black jenny burro we had.  The would-be-treasure-hunters returned in a day or two and we took the burro back, charging them some rent for her use. That was just one example of weird things that happened off and on. We once almost rented some mules to a Walt Disney production being filmed in the Verde Valley but the stock boss balked at what seemed to us a reasonable contract. They may have gotten some mules elsewhere.

Twinkles did recover, by the way, and was still with us some months later. Her final story will be related in 1967-8 events if I get that far. She had a sweet nature as a young mare and I am sorry I did not get to train her as I had her brother Patrick. Unfortunately, although she did recover within a few days, a number of others soon had their turns with this mysterious sickness and there were many more hard nights to get through. 

Photos: First is Patsy with new Twinkles the previous late spring. Then Charlie Mike with Twink, about the time of this situation. He had claimed her and named her for that pretty star on her face.  And finally, Lila with one of her colts. Baby burros are so darn cute!