Monday Memoir, Nov 11, 1967

 Roadblocks, detours and delays. It just kept stretching out. When will the Finale come?  The 4th and 5th I went back down, maybe just for one day. My notees were not clear, . Nick did not drive so I rode down with Louie and back with another driver I did not know. I was fighting off depression and it was hard. I still had too many things waiting to see what would happen and it had spread into my regular 'school' hours too. When I tried to back off trom the family equine stuff, I would think about Dusty and admit how much it hurt to have not heard from him for so long. I knew it would  probably be a long time and maybe never again but I  had to wonder "Why did he have to pull the pin on me now?  At this time? I need something to clng to so much!" But he could not know, I expect. Later I learned a lot more of the why and realized it was not his choice,  but fate and reality. So on...

 Nov 8, Wednesday

Here I am just wasting time when I should be doing soemthing useful but I don't have my government book with me and I don't feel like reading Marketing.  I just got a letter from Mom. She is planning to get to Prescortt this week. I hope she will make it. The hearing is to be next Tuesday. I do not know yet whether I shall go or stay this weekend.  That remains to be seen and depennds on how things work out. I may just stay, study, sew, and watch the rail and then go next weekend if she has not left by then. Perhaps she could come to Flag with me and take the train east then. We'll see.  I wrote to Jim last night; perhaps I shouldn't have but...he has not been incontact at all and with the people he knows and has to work with, the Morgan fiasco has to put a big shade on me. But I do seriously need somebody for a male friend if I cannot quite manage a lover for the time being. I should go todayand have a chest x-ray and a flu shot if the unit is still there when I go to change my sheets after lunch. I really cannot afford to get down sick this year and 50 cents is a small price to pay for an ounce of prevention. My paragraphing is atrocious. I throw together all sorts of unrealted ideas. Let's see. Tonight is Rodeo Club. I must remember to take Coleen's purse. Then ,I need to write Linda and Shirl, wash my hair and read some psych or marketing. Tomorrow morning I must finish the Govt reading and study/review on it in the evening after Mom calls. I have been in an awful mood for three days--not unusual when I am due and late. My system is really screwed up. I never know when to expect the monthlies anymore but I used to be pretty regular.  No doubt I shouid go and have a check-up but I keep putting it off along with getting work on my teeth. It is so easy to get to where you just don't give a hang so long as it is not agonizingly painful.  I am wearing the new red shirt today and just thought if it fades on my pink shell, I will be really ticked.  Had better go as it is almost time for accounting, then an hour of govt and finally lunch and "freedom.'"

The rest of the week passed unwritten. Again my memorywavers and things do not quite seem to match up and make sense. Why would Mom got to Prescott midweek unless Dad insisted to meet her? She could not leave before the hearing and whatever evolved then, anyway. She had considered going to Phoenix and taking a bus to Kentucky. I was almost admanat that she and Alex needed to take the train and was more than willing to make reservations and get the tickets, paying them myself. I know that Leo, Lyno and Buzzie were gone and I think someone had taken Chief. I must have arranged for Twinkles and Cyn  Mas as well but the details were never recorded. Charlie Mike had given Ringo to the landlord so there were no more animals to care for, at least. 

Another forgotten thing--I knew Mom had someone drive the big Green Ford to Prescott with  some stuff they still had in it but then what? The stuff was stored in the warehouse with the part they did not claim, but  I know we/they never got the truck back. Did she sell it? Did they seize it?  Charlie Mike was gone so he may not know. Alex qwould but I never thought to ask him and now he has been gone twenty years! I did go back down once more I know but that is for the last two Novermber memories. 

Phootos: A year or two earlier but memories... Charlie Mike holding Buzzie with the F750 in the background. We did get good use out of that truck after trading foer it in about 1960. And Alex on Leo, much earlier that summer. I honor both my brothers and two of the special horses. All of their lives were changed so drastically in a couple opf months. Someday and some way our male partent will have to answer for that. Perhaps he has but I want to hear it also! 

Monday Memoir, Nov 3, 1967

 Things happened in fits and stawrts. I was alternately trying to get into a normalcy of school and 'stuff'' that was still mostly familiar from September 1966 through the latter part of August but also I  was still drawn back and near-drowing in worries as the last act of the drama unfolded. I am not sure how I survived but I did. My Goddess and my Guradian Angel, who I had not yet named at this point, were there at my side, steadying hands to comfort and direct me, I think. I hardlyknew them then but did believe. So I wrote a lot on Oct 28, which I will excerpt some here and then a few more days until the next Friday, Novemer 3.

Aug 28, Saturday

I guess Charlie Mike is enjoying (?) his first  night in California now. He was really excited. He got in on Tommy Knowles' bus yesterday at 2:30. We left his baggage at the depot and then numbered the yard and everything that came through. He went down to campus to have dinner with me and then we hung out until #1 The San Francisco Chief, pulled in about 9:50. I noted the consist and then came back to my room and spent a late  evening writing letters.

Ths morning it was colder than Satan's outhouse and the furnace was off so I about froze. I studied in bed until about 9:30 and then got up. I checked my mail and my Hank Snow record had arrived. I went down to Colleen's and we went to Taco Bell for lunch and returned to my rom. I changed and we went with Ann Pollock to the barbeque in Nick King's Grand Prix.  I really like Ann. I thought her stuck up but she isn't. The BBQ was okay. June Smith, Peggy Watt's esrtwhile roomie is quite a pussycat as if Joann Hoaglund. Those Kingman girls --pretty wild. But I got  dinner for a quarter.  I decided to call the bus depot ithe next morning and see who has the Prescott local. If it is Nick I wil surprise Mom with a visit. She is probably feeling a little low.  I can show her the timetable data on rail trip to Kentucky easier than trying to explain on the phone. 

Turned out he was and I did. His eyes were much bluer than I had first thought. We again joked about my jacket.  That evening when I went back, Louie was driving.  But I was glad I had gone down because Mom was pretty blue. And we sold the three Quarter Horses for $100 each--Richie Lewis took Lyno and Leo and a gal who is going to be living near the temporary home  took Buzzie. I had to make a fast decision and I hated to do it but I am sure it was for the best. Mom got the $200 and I kept Buzzie's price.

Monday I was back and it was cold again,. Everyone was wondering when the first snow would fall. I went to an honors asselbly and got a nice little letler and certificate for 'being a good bookworm" as I said sarcastically. No one was there to see or applaud. No matter. I am beginning to hope to make a trip for Thanksgiving, either to Tucson to see Mary or to Souhtern Cal to visit Judy. I had NO wish to be in the dorm for long several days of the holiday. 

Nov 2, Thursday

I got the second highest in DAPR--101. !02 was the top. I did go and talk to Mrs Johnson (Psych prof)  about her demand that all be in class on Nov 21--an afternoon class that would let out  after 2:30. How would that play with my plan to leave for the holiday? She was rather adamant though. I put my check for Buzzie in the bank. That $100 meant a lot despite my deep sadness to let her go. It was for her welfare, really. I could easily have given her away to a good hoime but I think this will be one. I liked that gal and she seemed sincere.

I did go back down the weekend of the 4th and 5th but that is part of the next week's tale.

No good photos so  my last one with Lyno and Buzzie and the twoof tehm a few days before.. I did see them again later but they would never again be mine except in memories. There was always a little empty place in my soul. So much of me went away as various animals were taken, sold or died. I will see them in the Green Pastures, though. I count on it. The Rainbow Bridge goes there too.

Lanterns to find myself...

 

This is not a memoir and it is not a diatribe. It may be a strange kind of hybrid of both although that is not really my purpose. The other day I came across a quote from Emily Dickinson. To verify, here it is

The phrase, "I am out with lanterns, looking for myself," is a famous quote by the poet Emily Dickinson. While it has a deep metaphorical meaning about self-discovery, its literal origin was a casual remark in a personal letter.

That really hit me and since I had just written part of this a day or two ago, I continued thinking. Who actually am I and why? How did I get to where and how I am today?

In short I have re-found a person or viewpoint that has been an essential part of me for close to seven decades. I have now relocated a philosophy and belief system that fits, feels right, and may clarify many things I have said in my blog, on my FB page and elsewhere. I have a ‘home’ or a ‘tribe’ again. What did I find? I call myself a Libertarian and I blend fiscal conservatism and liberal social standards. It really isn’t so hard,

Fiscal conservatism means I do not respect or honor throwing gobs of money at anything to allegedly ‘fix’ whatever is wrong. It is foolish to try to bribe a person or group of people, much less other nations or the world at large by pouring a constant stream of aid which assumes no worth because it is free--they do not have to do anything to earn it. It merely breeds contempt and a sense of entitlement. , I abhor the Nanny State and the weird idea government at every level exists to “take care of us” and basically handle every citizen like a small child who must be bundled in bubble wrap and ‘protected’ 

Socially liberal means keep out of my medicine cabinet whether I choose to use Tylenol or THC, stay out of my bedroom since who I choose to be intimate with is not your business (unless it is a minor child of any sex), and  firm belief  my body is my sole property and every aspect of its care or even misuse is NOT anyone’s concern.  Worry about exactly what equipment is contained in anyone’s knickers is also NO concern of any allegedly governing  or quasi-religious entity. In a way this is old conservative but also liberal. 

I am fiercely independent and have always resented authority but with maturity I realize there is a hazy line dividing an individual’s rights to be or do anything and where that infringes on the good of all. We are allegedly civilized and short of living off grid in a very remote place, we are constrained to live and basically get along with other folks, often in close proximity. My freedom to swing my arms vigorously must end just before my fist hits your nose.  It is that simple. Judgment and some empathy is needed.

So how did I get to this point? For my first decade, my male parent was my hero and I almost felt he could do no wrong. He was a paragon of what a male adult should be and had a ‘right’ to demand obedience and set rigid standards of behavior.  That started to crumble as puberty approached and I began to see where his standards and his “do as I say, not as I do” were not working for me. If at about age nine I had suddenly said “I think I want to be a boy,” were it possible at that time, he would have been willing. Then my brother came along when I was 8 1/2. The new child was a brief joy or pride but then seemed to become extraneou,  not even the common spare heir. He already had a ‘son’ though DTBL it happened to be female. Well, no matter; we will just ignore that, and poor Charlie got the short end of the stick from then on.  Then as I grew taller and developed feminine curves, I decided I wanted some other heroes who were not nearly as demanding and strictly patriarchic. Ooops, not in the plan.

About that time, I also realized that the Divine Entity I chose to honor, pray to and follow was not the harsh, demanding and absolute ruler (much more often as portrayed in religious text despite the “loving father’ clap trap) but was instead more of a mother than a father. From then on my “Christianity” essentially died.  I was basically pagan or heathen but in a rather amorphous way for a long time. She had many names over those years but ultimately simply The Mother. The True Mother, perhaps

I expect the changes came gradually and I realize now much later that my father had serious mental health issues but he was also a classic narcissist with the habits and traits typical of that personality disorder. He could be charming and very appealing, but he could never accept blame, fault or admit to an error. He simply could not say “Hey, I fucked up and I am to blame.” Not even “I am sorry” or simply  “this did not go as I intended.” He made up clever but nasty and rude nicknames for people and developed an ‘enemies list’ that grew geometrically as more and more plans, schemes and efforts went bad andt had to be someone’s fault, someone else's. Before long, it was often mine, also.  I watched this and slowly grew bitter, cynical and very rebellious but that mostly quietly because I was afraid. I learned the pain of emotional and verbal abuse when I ceased to be the adoring and obedient child-pet anymore. That was a hideous sin!!

Those memories, so deeply entrenched in my psyche and spirit,have been a burden for all my adult life. Gaining confidence, courage and the strength to create and build my own personal rules and trust them has been a long struggle. Too easily I became a chameleon to blend and fit and get along, especially in my relationships. In the end that was always self-defeating, but I am immensely grateful I never fell into a truly abusive or vicious relationship. My Goddess and Guardian Angel steered me toward basically decent men who may have been flawed or broken in some ways but were never cruel, brutal or even really uncaring. 

To backtrack a bit, I realize now that my father was an “influenccr” long before that term or idea was recognized as modern technology made it possible. He was a writer and a skilled one. The part I most recall was men’s outdoor adventure and sports magazines but then gradually shifted into several political subjects where words approached diatribes. Influenced by famous botanist, L.N. Goodding (**note follows) a contemporary expert on arid land flora, he turned "Green".  Picture Ayn Rand, George Orwell, Upton Sinclair and others of that era melded together and you get a vague idea. While a lot of it  leaned conservative, it also went deep into the developing progressive/environmental ethos and issues.  He was always a Democrat but at odds with the  developing liberalism at times. He especially wanted independence for himself, at least. Responsibility not so much...

 Both my grandfathers were Republicans and mom was too, though quietly. When I married, my husband and father-in-law were Republicans as well,  though all more in the traditional pattern than the new version. I did slide into the conservative agricultural camp and was active in People For the West etc. I admired Wayne Hage and Helen Chenowith Hage, Julie Smithson and many others in that group. This was a way to oppose what I felt was damaging to my family in my father’s peculiar Don Quixote complex that created real and serious enemies. Its time had not yet come.  I even steered my since deceased youngest brother to a unique woman and her law practice (Lana Marcussen ) after he got his degree and license and he did get involved in property rights issues etc.

But then about the turn from the 20^th century to the  21^st, the “New Conservatives” emerged, taking what had begun with the John Birch Society and the rise of the so called Christian Right and suddenly there was a new slogan and a new face behind the Flag and Cross.  This new figurehead gave me major PTSD. Another control freak narcissist who coined ugly names and said mean and vicious things to anyone who opposed him!  This second term is really much worse with Project 2025 and it’s blatant white supremacy, quasi "Christian"Taiban doctrine and clear idolatry of the Nazi and Fascist past and brutal thoritarian methods.  I have said Charles M Morgan, my male parent who wrote mostly as Chuck Morgan, was almost a flawed prototype of DJT, just not rich, though of course he wanted to be!  

Both philosophically and emotionally there was NO WAY I could support and endure what was happening. I still can’t. But I still do not support the extreme progressive path which will never work well either. So where was I going to fit? I went back into my memories and found the tribe, the clan and the party where I had always really belonged. To my view, taking the best of both extremes and tempering the rest with the Libertarian philosophy of personal responsibility, accepting and using the valid parts of actual socialism where they made sense. Should we really do away with the post office,  the interstate highway system, law enforcement at all levels but under control and hunane rules, municipal services such as garbage, often water and sewer connections and even public schools?  Socialism is nta cuss word, deadly curse or a fast toxic slide to actual  Communism! That is such a limited and naïve a view. 

The USA has functioned almost its whole existence as a mixture of capitalist and socialist practice and patterns. As such, it has worked pretty darn well. And as a Libertarian, I not only condone but agree with this mix, not really a dichotomy. I have fought the idea of "working together"' with the current adminsitration which I find almost totally abhorent and actually evil, but realize the chasm between extremes MUST be bridged and mended if the nation is to survivce. I recently came across the Builders Movement and think perhaps that is the way. There are a fws others.  The "Youing Republican"s are NOT one!!

There is much more I could say but I think this is enough. I am who and now what I am, basically what I have always been inside. I am more emotion based than logical but always pragmatic. Will it work? So I value people much more than ideology and 'polytix'  at any level. Empathy and humanity are not sins or stupid!! We truly are all PEOPLE and we truly MUST accept this and never relegate any part of the Human Species to the trash pile for any imagined inferiority or lack of worth! No group/race/gender etc. is inherently better or worse although individuals certainly can be. This I believe. This is my bottom line and the immovable one where I will stand fast if it takes the rest of my life.A rarely mentioned hero is Ulysses Grant with whom I share a birth date despite intervening years. I too will "fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." It is a Taurus thing, perhaps.

 NOTE ! Leslie Newton Goodding (1880–1967) was an American botanist who was considered an expert in the flora of the Southwestern United States. | Show results with: LN

Photos are my motehr with L.N. Gooding and one just of him. He was an incrdible man and very wise and sincere but not yet aware of much that has happened since his day.

Memoir Monday, Oct 27, 1967

 Step by step. Progress of a sort. Hard won and no triumph. The toll of going back every weekend was weighing on me, financially and emotionally. Finally I began to play a foolish game, even perhaps a risky one, since I had little choice but to go and do what I could. And during this week I managed to write, letting some pressure off for the most part. 

Monday, Sept 23

Back again. I could kick Paul Babbitt in the shins. The horses were too thin, had little value. Damned old grump, but it was mainly Buck Snoddy's fault. with snarky remarks(A local cop who probably led the old stock dealer to the place,) I have just slammed a door on 'home' and horses for awhile. There is no way I can do more. I'm not going down again--maybe never.

 Just took the DAPR test. It was a doozy. I  hope I got a two. I'm really scared about my grades this time. LIke I mean it's so bad it hurts. I don't maybe hate the Boss as a person but I cannot help hating what he has become and done. The cruelty of it is appalling. I could cry for Charlie Mike. I don't see why he doesn't light a fuse in his rush to get out, to California. And yet, I do in way . Don't I hate to bestir myself to change? The worst routine is familiar, thus safe...

Nick looks like Jim M from the rear and like himself otherwise. Nick, stocky and solid and muy macho.Short cropped light brown hair and smoky colored eyes and an easy voice,  never at a loss for words. I had never seen him before Saturday morning. Old Louis may be my honorary Grandpa but I have a new favorite bus driver. He stuck his head in and called "Give me a call, Tommy." I was the first passenger in line, not on purpose...yet. He took and  punched my ticket. "That's a real pretty jacket you've got there." I sat in the front on the right side. Does he ever hustle that old rig down the road. Fast, but he handles it AOK. He talked over his shoulder to me about the jacket, about Elvis being in Sedona and then we were in Cottonwood. He handed me down and I almost forgot about it until Sunday night. I should know better. Doubtless he is married and has 20 kids in Casa Grande or somewhere. But I had to think of something besides seven horses with their ribs and hipbones showing and my father in the county jail. So I thought about Nick Dawson. About 30-35? What I once thought someone was about a lifetime ago. 

The evening bus pulled in a little late and there was only departing one passenger. Nick handed her down and saw me. "Where are you going this time?" "Back to Flag," I said. He punched the ticket and I climbed up,"Want to sit up front?' He indicated the seat right behind his that held his suitcase, uniform jacket and cap. "I don't want to put you to any trouble," but he moved them and made room.  Josie Almiraz, a more recent Mingus grad, was going up too. She is a quiet little mouse and couldn't respond to Nick's teasing. I picked that skill up when I was sixteen! There is another problem I haven't resolved, It has been a long time since May 15 and even July 11. I seem to recall Dusty said something about six months? . What has he done to me by disappearing? Shall I hunt him down if it takes all winter or let him go in peace? I don't know yet. 

That first bit was written in a fit of temper and pain. No, I was not going to slam any doors and I was still determined to get those horses into good homes and I did just that. I also went back down a few more weekends before everyone was gone. Eldest daughters do what they have to do--even when it is hard, taxing and costly in many ways. Today I am not sorry and feel I was right.  

Nick? Just a passing fancy of sorts. He disappeared in a few weeks. The jacket was quilted with a nylon shell and warmer lining,  tan wth dark brown stitching in a semi fleur-de-lis design. I also got a pair of Wellington style boots, a type I had always loved since having a pair as a small kid, and practical for all but deep snow. A lot of bus drvers wore them too!

Oct 26, Thurs

Damn,, I am not getting anywhere fast tonight. I came down here (libray) at 6:00 and it is 7:30 and all I have done is read some books. I've got the fidgets. Tomorrow night I will see Charlie Mike off to California even as I was once seen off 100,000 years ago. Only two? I doubt he will come on Nick's bus as it would be too tight on the time.  Got to take a test in marketing tomorrow. Can't say I am too enthused about it or really too concerned. I'll study some before I go back to my room. I started to say "home" but I really don't have a home now. I've said that for awhile but is more true than ever now. Damn, I muss Dusty. Still want him. I am crazy for that but it's true. Maybe in time someone else could take his place but I still wear an invisible "Private, no tresspassing" sign that most guys shy off from. With Dusty it was not just physical, as we were as much or more friends as lovers. We always had so much to talk about. It is going to be a long and cold winter. Jim M has ditched me--no surprise given the politics.  I've got to study. My grades will be really bad; I've got to DO something. 

Oct 27, Friday

I'm real rocky this morning and not where it's at. Two No-Doze and cofffee=caffeine shock, I guess. Plus an allergy pill. I'm real woozie. I am pretty confident that I did okay on the marketing exam. There were about eight of the fifty multiple choice that I was doubtful of but I am a fairly good guesser. I am beginning to like Dapr too. Computers are more interesting than the more routine machines. Just two more classes to stagger through and then lunch and up to the bus depot to meet Charlie Mike. If it were not for the Rodeo Club barbeque I'd go as far as Barstow with him just for fun but I really cannot afford to. Maybe I'll go see Judy over Thanksgiving. Have to check the cost and see if it is okay with her. Have to check on the Tucson trip first. I have not heard back from Mary about that yet. I am high and sleepy at the same time; that is a hell of a state to be in. Glad I have my accounting assignment done. Mainly I just have to read govt for the weekend. and then sew. But I must not miss Charlie Mike's bus. It won't be here before 2:30, I don't think, so I've got some leeway. 

Photos?  Two obvious choices from this very day. First me and then Charlie Mike at the Depot, then ATSF, of course, on October 27, 1967.  Just over two months later, I was to board the San Francisco Chief,  once again in the snow, as I headed to Sacramento again. I think the jacket I am holding is the one mentioned. Shirt I had made and jeans were from Goodwill. Charlie Mike was getting tall and his jeans were a little highwater. He had a number book (for railroad car numbers) in his hand, a steno pad like I used so much. That hobby was a major interest of his for many years. He got a lot that afternoon as we walked in the yard. His train was not due until about 9:00. It was on time that evening, though.

Monday Memoir, Oct 20, 1967

Still having problems unraveling the mess in the Verde Valley. There were days I felt like it would never end. I still had basically a long month to go before I could finally close the door on most of it.This week I was able to write on the 18th and the 20th, 

18 Oct, Wednesday

I went down 'home' Saturday. Mom and Alex met me at the bus depot (Lillian's  ice cream shop, main street Cottonwood).We talked things over as we walked up to Clemenceau. It is quite a bad scene. I'd say suspended sentence or probation would be the best we could possibly hope for and more likely some 'hard time' or confinement in 24th and Van Buren since Uncle spoke to Dr Joe  Hudson at the Fort Whipple VA Hospital and an insanity plea was considered.  Sunday Charlie Mike and I rode down to get the three young mares. Chief and Buzzie were pretty high having had no riding or exercise for awhile.  I am not sure now if  we brought them back to join the others at the rental house or put them somewhere else. That afternoon Uncle Dan showed up, full of orders and ideas. He went up to try to get Roxie's deposit for the house up in the canyon below Jerome and I guess cussed Mr Gray up one side and down the the other. Bet that man never heard of a family like the Morgan bunch before!  Anyway I got a free ride back to Flagstaff and a steak dinner at Senor Bob's. It was the second time I had eaten there and a total of four nice dinners bought for me in a year by three 'handsome" (?) fellows. (Jim McM, Dusty and Uncle) two steaks, one Chinese and one pork chops Oh, and the one at Sedona too.Maybe Mr Nuanez or ??? I'm getting so cosmopolitan!

Back to classes, I got 37/42 on my psych test, and 80/100 on Accounting. That is not so bad for a start under the circumstances. Last night I studied Government for four hours so I hope to do adequately on that one today.  I located a sewing machine at Harper's Used Furniture. I just may buy it. I got some fabric at Goodwill and three skirts for $1.00, one which perfectly matches my green sweater set. Charlie Mike said he'd heard from Harry (the Clarkdale section foreman) that Dusty was going to get back on as a foreman. That was welcome news to me; then maye I will see him sometime! I wrote a letter to Paul Babbitt (from whom we'd bought the Quarter Horese) I hope Al Nuanez will be able to work out a deal, when and how the hearing comes out, etc. It is enough to drive a person really batshit.  Got the color film in my camera and took pix of the Peaks, Maybe I will get one of the front entrance of Campbell this morning

Oct 20, Friday

Hmm, hardly worth coming to class for Marketing the morning but maybe one gets a few brownie points. I have this creepy feeling I blew the bottom out of the Govt test Wendsday although I studied all Tueday evening at the library. I had gotten too far behind on the reading which was bad,  Charkie Mike called last night. The Boss apparently has to stand trial and has a bunch of wild schemes dreamed up which he thinks will get him out. That is really whacky. I guess I'll run down again. They still have not heard from Nuanez so I hope that deal has not gotten screwed up. I do not know if my letter even got to Paul Babbitt. The horses are a BIG problem. I wish I wasn't so attached to them. I am getting the sewing machine for $25. That's too much to pay but I think I will be glad to have it. Will probably go fetch it this afternoon, I hope it isn't too heavy to carry back but I will stagger along some way. I have to come back on the early bus Sunday if possible so I can study for the Data Processing test Monday. I rather dread that one. And I still have that screwy project to finish. It's only 1/4 done. I'll have to haunt the place until I finish it using the machines. It's not a homework thing! 

I've now worn all three of the new skirts from Goodwill. I'm wearing the lavender plaid today. It is so pretty. I got a call from Mama Witt last night. She was so worried and I could not bring myself to tell her all the bad news so I just said I thought there would be some changes soon. What else could I say? I think Mom may well go back there. I'll have to see what happens at home and catch up on the news. 

Little to explain. Pretty much  clear as staed. 

Pictures, such as they are. First, Uncle Dan with Mom and the boys at the Clemenceau house. Charlie Mike was getting tall. He was  seventeen or close to it. He looked very sullen here. He and Uncle did not get along too well. This next was earlier, spring 1966, but I held Puani and Cyn Mas who were three during the  meltdown time. The area where the family camped was about 50 yards to the right of this spot. The corrals were behind the photographer here.  Last semi-aerial view of corrals at another time--thus the snow. The bare central area with plain snow was about where I stood in the prior one and the camp was off to the left from there. I have never again set foot there since September 14 when we left, but have looked down from the highway. Have taken a photo or two, hardly relevent.

   

  

Memoir Monday, Oct 13, 1967

There seemed to be no end of trouble, and not good trouble either. However, perhaps the end result was positive because it did write a finale to the immediate fiasco and foolishness of the Morgan Meltdown situation.  Before it was over I would be totally alone in Arizona for a good year and never really part of the family again, a visitor or sometimes assisting briefly but never a real resident.  I have to call that a blessing, although the first months were very difficult in some ways. It was hard to learn to stand on my own and be self-sufficient despite the fact I had always been 'alone', but as the Eldest Daughter in an enmeshed family, taking an active part on so much.  Even the lectures and bawling outs were "familiar." and thus not safe but  well, familiar.

cat 13, Friday

For a Friday the 13th it wasn't bad. Actually not my big superstition. Got the monthly miseries late--like 36 days! Probably due to being upset so much. I'm on the HD front desk from 9:00 to 11:00. In the morning I'm going down on the bus. If I had not gotten the $50 from Uncle Dan, I'd really resent spending the bus fare. The old man is in jail again, according to Mom and Charlie Mike's calls Wednesday and Thursday. The specific details are not clear to me at present. Another assault probably. At least I have $300 to take them, and if they don't get out of there with it, I think I'll quit going down. I am so fed up on the whole lousy situation that I could scream and roll on the floor.

I deposited $30 of Uncle's $50 which puts my VNB (Valley National Bank) account back up to $60. I bought a Montovani record, a piece of fabric for a dress and a roll of color film since the leaves are turning so prettily around here. I'll try to use the b&w in the camera this weekend and then get color shots on Monday. Coming down from town, I was startled when a blue VW passed me with two girls in it. The license looked like JSW-800. Was it the Bluebird? Maybe Peggy now has that car since I got the impression Dusty had an old pickup at the mine. But what if? I could just cry because I'll be gone all weekend. We have to move the three young mares Sunday so I will have to come back on the late bus, not midday. After that  I wanted toat least call Winslow but what would I learn? I even thought about borrowing Colleen's car to--what? But what could I do? Nothing, really nothing.

I chickened out on a study date with Vern Erb who sits next to me in Accounting. I told him my father was sick and I had to haunt the phone--that is just a little bit of a white lie. Vern is 'friendly' to all the girls but especially to me and I am not all that impressed. Gee, I feel pretty rough. It is going to be a long sit the way my middle feels. I guess I would be poor comany tonight anyway. I feel about knee-high to a bowlegged centipede . Oh well, no point in feeling sorry for myself. The homecoming weekend was nice and Sunday was just beautiful. There is another home game tomorrorw but I will not be here. Too bad.

To clarify: By the time I got back Sunday, I knew more of the situation. The Boss had taken several shots at a car that drove by early in the morning, to him too close and too often. It was just a guy delivering newspapers! Nobody was hit but there were bullet holes in the car door and of course the guy freaked out and went to the cops. That was such a foolish, deranged thing to do!! I was sure even before this event that my male parent was literally out of his tree. It put a perspective on the whole goofy, grim and ghoulish mess. I am not sure where the $300 came from and I never said. I hardly had that much if I gathered every cent from my small stash and the two bank accounts I had (Why two? I'd had the VNB one since 1965 and then opened another in Arizona Bank the prior year for just my school stuff. I think.) I almost feel I remember Uncle Dan sent it--a check to mom or one I was to cash and take to her at the same time he sent another just to me. I honestly do not know.There are so many things I did not write and so much I just walled off in a dingy mental closet. and slammed the door tight. I doubt hypnosis would get that all out and back even now! Not that I'd want to. It was erased on purpose. 

Pictures. What the heck for?  Okay, a view of the house with the old F750 truck in the back yard.. The next had to be later in the year or the next spring as it did not snow in Oct/Nov but this was in that area. Finally two horses--probably two of the young mares in the yard there. I think it is Twinkles on the right and Cyn Mas to her left.by the markings. I believe we brought them back from the pasture to there for awhile but Puani may have been sold or traded to settle the grazing cost.. She ended up with Louis Dunn, at any rate.  He never got her papers though she was a registered QH.  I  did not have them in hand right then and later would not.

Memoir Monday, October 6, 1967

This week finally saw some changes, actually the previous weekend of September 30-October 1. It seems I did go back down after all. And at least a few things did get accomplished.  I did not note if they came up for me or I decided to take the bus down. Changed plans were not too rare at this point. Anyway, from my entry on October 5, here is the low down. 

October 5, Thursday

 As I wrote on Monday: "Saludos amigo. Another dreary Flagstaff Monday." I rode the bus up from Sedona last night after going to see Al Nuanez and leaving Junior, poor little battered burro, there. He got dragged about fifty yards and wore some nasty sores, poor baby. Most donkeys I would not mind so much but I felt so sorry for him because he has always been sweet. Puani, Cyn Mas and Twinkles are on a pasture and the other four are on the lot in Clemanceau at what is the family's new, probably temporary, home. It is so weird to know Dusty lived arond there and worked on those little shacks about twenty years ago, probably his first stop in Arizona after leaving the navy and moving west.  He might have lived in that very one and most certainly did something on it at some time. Of course it is not permanaent, but it is a damn sight better than a tent or a barn.

But that is behind me until next weekend at least. I hope longer as I have literally heaps and scads of things to do.  So back to today. It is Thursday right now. I have a bunch of new clothes and have taken up lots of hems etc. Classes have rolled along. I got a letter from Mary, a box and a letter from Mama Witt and a new record in the mail so far. I mailed off the affidavit on Tuesday morning so it should have gotten to them okay. This evening I struggled with accounting for awhile and then wrote a couple of letters on the typewriter. I turned my Appaloosa/Nez Perce paper in for Adv Comp on Tuesday. Everybody is all excited about homecoming events. I'm not terribly enthused biut I hope i can stay here this weekend anyway. There is always a chance that Dusty will be in town or passing through for one thing. I wonder how the hearing came out today, I probably won't hear until I go down unless they come up for me tomorrow and I'll have a small fit if they do.

I got a new gold kilt skirt to wear with  my navy sweater and socks to the game, I'm afraid my boots won't fit over the heavy socks though. So I don't know what shoes I'll wear. Maybe I'll just wear nylons. It is almost 11:30. I didn't take much of a nap having gone to Colleen's Stanley Party this afternoon and been busy the rest of the day. So I'll be about half dead in the morning again. Maybe I'll really sleep late on Saturday and Sunday. Have to see the parade at 10:30 and the game at 2:00 on Saturday and get some RR car numbers for Charlie Mike with a walk in the rail yard on Sunday. Except for that, I'm free as a bird. Okay, more homework to do...but I won't worry about that now. So long then. Off to the showers with me.

Explains needed? Some. I did go down and had a part in the folks moving to the little house they rented in Clemenceau. How they swung or found that I do not know or recall. The animals got moved and how or why the one little burro went to the Verde Valley School, I draw a blank, even how he got dragged. Trying to lead him or move him behind the truck? Or load him or ???  Was I the one who dealt with Mr Nuanez? Again no memory. I dimly recall having dinner in Sedona while waiting for the bus but with whom I have no idea. So much is still a vague, fogged jumble at this point.  For the moment, the horses were covered and that was a relief. I do not recall where the three young mares went but a pasture around Cottonwood somewhere.  Chief may have been staked to a hitching post at times but  Leo ran loose in the yard by the small house. Buzzie and Lyno were there also. Of course The Boss was totally obcessed with his wild "legal stuff" so I guess Charlie Mike and Mom feed the four anyway and saw they had water. There was room for them to walk around enough that exercise was not a big issue. And I did get a typewriter. It was a small portable I found at a pawn shop or second hand store in Flagstaff  and got for a very moderate cost. It served me well for a long time. I invested in easy-erase bond--a ream?-- and used a bit of wite-out at times as I was not a great typist but did get better over time. Summer roommate Colleen was now engaged or even just married to her on-and-off boyfriend and had the Stanley Party to help  get her household set up. She may have been libing in the little stone cottages of married housing?  Most of my new clothes came from Goodwill. I got a lot of nice things there for a year or two and some were ready to wear while others needed to be remade. I was not a fashionista but I did love clothes!

Pictures? Here are a few from that site, anyway. I did get some B&W and color there. First I am holding Buzz and  Lyno in the dirt street in front of the place. Next shows Leo, Chief and Ringo, the little dog, in the yard and then Mom holding Chief with the land lord's house in the background. Theirs was to the other side, smaller and more delapidated. 

Monday Memoir, September 29, 1967

 For several weeks I still rather felt like I was doing the old Roman Riding with a foot in two vastly different lives or worlds. It was stressful and tiring. I also still seethed at the stupidity and non-necessity of it all. It was just so wrong, so foolish, so really pointless!! I worried about the horses and my brothers. I figured whatever the parents suffered, it was their own damn fault and totally deserved. I can now feel more sympathy for Mom than I did then but still see she allowed it to happen when she could have gotten up and left several times previously which would have changed everything. But she would or could not. As for my male parent, it is almost a case of forgiveness is in the dictionary! Even after all these years, about 58,  my wrath is mostly for the animals and Charlie Mike and Alex because although I did not go scott free, it damaged me personally much less than the boys.

I managed to write only once during this week but dumped a lot of thoughts and some events in that sole entry in my neglected journal. Oddly I had basically left the daily diary practice and moved to a simple journal where more thoughts and impressions were recorded than a recitation of events. It was a gradual evolution begun in the 65-66 era..

Sept 27, Wed

I don't find much time even to think, much less write. I have been awfully busy since I got back here. Sixteen semester hours and nineteen are different animals entirely, no mistake about it. And as you get into the upper level 200 and 300 courses, there is a difference too. 

Went down 'home' for the weekend --bad scene. I don't think this place at Bridgeport will work. I wish there was a safe place for the horses for awhile so they could just leave. It rained like hell on Sunday and we drove up Oak Creek over rock slides in the evening. Probably good it was the big truck. Mostly I just try not to think of what is going on down there. I'd blow a tube if I did.

I was just sitting here writing  and waiting to go to Rodeo Club when Colleen came so I had to talk to her and then we went over. Lots of new faces--hope some of them stay and sort of hope I can find an unattached male...maybe. I really have to organize my time better. I'm running around frantically and not getting much done. Of course I have been rather sick for nearly a week now which doesn't help and I do have a pack of troubles on my mind.  I got lots of mail Monday, nothing yesterday and a letter from Judy today. I finally got an answer written and mailed to Mary's letter that came at home. She is staying in Tucson at UofA to be near her parents. I am really going to miss her. She has an awful lot of common sense and understanding. I really counted on her being around. Like I told her, it leaves a hole in my life. 

However it is kind of cool to have a room to myself too. In a year's time I have accumulated a bunch of things and am pretty well set up. Just now I am not sure what more I need besides dry cleaning for some clothes and maybe buying a few smaller things.  I'll give that some though the next few days and maybe go shopping on Friday or Saturday. I'm going to work on the Rodeo Club Homecoming float probably. I might really have some fun and hopefully they'll have refreshments. So it could save my buying a meal.. I still have only a five day meal ticket, not the best idea. It's now 9:30. I've cleaned my room and am now listening to records and bothered by a stomach ache. Must have some kind of flu bug. 

Last weekend was kind of bad news. Of course I wonder what's gone on since, but "I really don't want to know." I bet Roxie is still mad as a wet hen. Trouble and problems! If they have to leave there at least they don't have too much to take, no problem really except the horses. But how it will ever end, I do  not know, I am so sick of it all, anyway. Because I'm convinced that it was NOT necesasry or ineveitable

I'm going to make a schedule . I never do stick with them for long, but I can try, can't I? And maybe someday I will. Phoo. it's no use trying to keep a diary or journal anymore. Have I just outgrown it? At least I have all my old ones here now but there was a box of my old toys, souvenirs and clothes etc.that we forgot in Charlie Mike's and my shed. I wish I could have Buzzie up here. I could keep her at the Powwow Grounds for free, just feed and take care of her. I wonder if I could swing the feed? I think I could, getting pellets at $3.00 per 80 pound bag. Feed her about 5-6 bags a month, no grain because they're complete nutrition. Maybe I'll try to work something out with Joann. It's an idea anyway.  I think several rodeo club members have horses out there. 

Again photos are not really available but I'll put something in just to break up the dullness of nothing but text.  First the powwow grounds as seen the next summer,. Not visible were some barns or stable buildings near by.  Then Lyno and Buzzie near that time. They were not real plump but not too bad. They were never denied feed at least but the quality wasn't always the best.

Monday Memoir, September 22, 1967

Back at NAU, I fwlt like I had been zapped from one world to another. The change and the shock was so abrupt and complete. I had plenty to worry about still too, with much concern for my brothers and the horses for which I knew something must be done soon. I was frustrated not to have two of myself. I was also exhausted and staggered by the combined effects of stress and hopping life to life.  I could hardly think, much less write. But I did some on Septermber 17 and 19 which follow. 

September 17, Sunday

Looking back it all seems incredible. That was the wildest, weirdest 'vacation' I ever had, actually the weirdest three weeks I ever spent. Yesterday I was both crazy busy and in a state of mental and emotional exhaustion so I could not think, much less write, I ran all over town to get my loyalty oath notorized, shop etc. But I am here and registered. My schedule is not quite to  my liking but I  was lucky to get all my classes at the last minute that way. I can't believe they've upped me to $800 a semester but maybe...what about summer school? I wish I knew because then I'd know how much to spend. But I wil put $200 in Arizona Bank in savings where I will only touch it in dire mergiencies. Then I really may get a typewriter and/or a sewing machine. Think I wil like having a single room. It is quite pretty with light green walls to set off my pink rugs, pink and green dresser scarves, comforter with pink and green spring flowers and new print curtains. Isn't privacy worth $25 more and a little loneliness?  I wonder where Mary is. I haven't seen her yet. I do hope she is here. I'm also anxious to see Joann Kendall and a bunch of my other "good buddies." I have already written to Jim and the folks (at the Cottonwood  PO box) and plan to write several more letters to mail in the morning. Also have to do some ironing this evening but I plan to go uptown again soon and look at some clothes. I am a little restless today and feel expensivve (ha ha)

I am not sure what that loyalty oath thing was about. Something for the folks in their ongoing legal efforts to try to get redress and compensation for all they had suffered?  I do not think it had anything to do with the college. I was not getting a NDSL loan at this point but that should hardly require an oath! It stays a blank spot, one of many that will crop up. Maybe traumatic brain injury and amnesia?!?

September 19 Tuesday

Well here I am watching the front desk in the Honor Dorm. A task we all had to share. There was a Head Resident but no assistants. so duty rotated. I had bolted my supper to get back by 6:30. No sign of Mary. Can't understand. And no sign of Forester Ray either although his sister and most of his old gang was there. So far everyone in HD is friendly but I still get rather lonesome. I almost wish I had a roommate but this is really best for now. It's been frantic as hell every day. I guess the slowest day was Sunday. I got a bunch of letters off yesterday and also got my new campus mailbox. They are busy sorting and havenn't got mine yet. Nothing still? Ha, be patient! Now I have been to all my classes except the one I am changing. They said I had no business taking  Gen Biz 100 so I am changing to Data Processing, I'll complete the switch tomorrow. This semester I am taking Intermediate Accounting, Advanced Composition, Intro to Psychology, American Government, Basic Marketing Management and Intro to Data Processing. It was a pretty serious course load. I now have all my checks but still have to pay my $156 registratiion fee. And I really do need to get a typewriter. I'd love to get a sewing machine but... They have an old wreck of a typewriter at Goodwill but I think I can do better. I may post some signs and check in stores uptown. However my finances are somewhat limited as I'll have about $164 after the reg fee but I plan to bank part of that for future and my insurance and record bill will take $35.  My project tomorrow will be the typewriter search. 

I have been so exhausted. I woke at 7:45 this morning and had to be in Adv Comp (English) by 8:00 so skipped breakfast of course. I did snatch a couple of hours of nap today and cut down on the running around. Maybe I can be a little more energetic now.  I have a lot of studying to do. I really should hike down to the library because if I stay in the rtoom I will mope more than study.  I need to wash some clothes and do some other things but maybe that should wait. No news from "home" of course.  I reckon they aee doing "ok".  Of course teh backlash of the strain is what has hit me the last couple of days.  One does run down after awhile. But my strength will build back soon I think. I need to get my teeth worked on. They ached and kept me awake last night. It ws pretty miserable so I slept very poorly. I wonder if the Rodeo Club meets tomorrow. Maybe they will have some posters up. I should try to find Colleen and  see if she'd like to go and I also want to see Joann. I still can't understand what has become of Mary. If only Dusty hasn't pulled the pin on me. I wrote him--maybe shouldn't have but I did. I don't think anyone will read it becasue it looks like a bill or something from J. D.Martin, Four Star Services. (tee hee). I am too clever for my own good sometimes and I will surely come to a no good end!

Pictures are scarce and hard to find. I did have one of my room but it was lost in the crash of my hard drive in 2018 along with a bunch of others  I had recently scanned and then pitched, DTBL. So here are two not very good with old color film in my little Kodak that faded badly. Approps as "through a glass darkly" was how I was still seeing things. It took a couiple of months to get back near semi-normal. View from my room, I think it was #151, and the front of Campbell Hall. 

Memoir Monday, September 15, 1967

 It really feels like something I read or saw on a screen somewhere. Was it a real experience, a hallucination, a nightmare or just a 'bad trip' for me, although  I never tried recreational drugs until I was frankly old. Who knows?

Again from my post-event notes, about September 17, 1967

Did we really ‘camp’ there in the canyon for two weeks or was there some interim place? I draw a blank. I have a few photos but they give no time frame. I do recollect almost constant harassment. We were “trespassing,” the health department was worried about sanitation; the boys were required to start school, at least Alex, and Charlie Mike was not eager or willing to quit yet. The horses were scrutinized daily for proper care and signs of neglect or abuse. I dimly recall arguing fiercely they were indeed cared for with feed, water and exercise daily and did not need to be impounded for their welfare. There was a lot of harrassment and many official and private citizens came by with comments, threats and some demands. A few offered help, a very few. We could not stay there indefinitely!

Aunt Roxie came during the interim, loudly and profanely furious. She negotiated for a house up in Mescal Canyon below Jerome, but it had no place for the horses so Dad would not consider it. Everything was still unsettled when she had to go back and start her school term. Arguments raged. Finally on September 14 we began trooping down to Bridgeport, first moving the animals, by my count seven equines and one small burro. The family would then “move” into a barn at a place where Charley Bryant was or had stayed. I guess there was some space for the horses on the small farm. But we had two studs and five mares, all bunched together. Luckily no mares were in season. 

The next day Roxie drove me back to Flagstaff since the final deadline for registration was getting very close. I was so grateful for her help because I had begun to worry how I would get there. I did not even have bus fare. If I did not register on time, my aid would disappear and a year would be wasted. I was also very thankful most of my things were safely stored in Flagstaff and took a few more personal items back with me. Later I remembered a box in the shed Charlie Mike and I had used for private storage. It was left behind but was just old souvenirs, clothes and some old writing. I missed a few things, but no great loss. Of course the drama was far from over although I was removed from the center of it again and only had to put one foot back down there two out of the seven days each week at the most.

On September 16 and 17 I ran around frantically to organize the second year of my higher education. I moved into Campbell Hall and had my stored things delivered; I got my next group of classes approved—thank you, Dr Downum—and registered, collecting my checks without any problem. I was amazed my stipend had been raised to $800 a semester. 

Photo: Campbell Hall, the south side of North Quad,  which became my new home starting on September 15 when Aunt Roxie delivered me there. Really the whole 67-68  school year it was the only home I had because the Morgan family--my immediate family--was soon scattered east and west. Only I was still in Arizona--I and the horses I was involved in finding homes for.  That tale will emerge in the next few weeks.

Monday memoir Sept 8, 1967

 A blank week, really. What happened? From all I can find and have memories slightly wakened, we stayed there camping in the canyon foir almost two weeks and existed under those far from ideal circumstances. Charlie Mike and I cared for the horses and he and Alex did start school. We tried to keep semi-sanitary and washed in water hauled in and maybe sometimes heated on the propane camp stove. We cooked on it was well and I think used up most of the frozen or refrigerated food, maybe getting some ice to maintain the ice chests which had used cooling packs obtained during some of Dad's advertising projects in past years, mostly before the equine epic.  Little Ringo got table scraps which had already been his diet for as long as he was with us. We may have hitched rides with a few friends as I think the big F750 was not moved although it was of course capable to drive.

I cannot remember who friends might have been beyond Charley Bryant and a few more folks we knew who were not part of the now-very-focused and concentrarted group that clearly want to abolish the Morgan Problem forever and ever. Collateral damage be damned. But there were some who helped us haul water, sympathized and were looking for a place we could land with scant funds to pay for a lease or rent and where the animals could be safe also.  

At some point, probably this first week, Aunt Roxie arrived from California--she was the only one of dad's sibs able to come as Grace and Ruth had just lost their home when it was destroyed by fire and Uncle Dan was traveling around semi-incognito after some major conflicts with Wendell Robie and others and the start of a very untidy divorce situation.  I always respected Aunt Roxie although she could be very abrasive, didactic and just generally tough. She could cuss like a sailer crossed with a muleskinner and had very strong ideas about most things. She was unabashed about proclaiming them, too. I undestood her and although I was still very quiet, almost mousy then, I had that same kind of iron core and had just begun to learn how to express and use it. She and I were genuinely kin, both blood and spirit.  However she was unable to budge her brother an inch and got madder as time went on. Talk about immoveable objects. She called him everything but a gentleman more than once and he took it but did not move an iota. 

It seems we stayed there well into the second week of September. About when Roxie was needing to go back to California to start her school year, we finally got a place to go--basically free and temporary but 'something'.  I am not sure now if Charley and Elvie still lived there but they once had, on a small farm down near Bridgeport. The family was able to 'live' in the large barn and there was a pasture of several acres where the horses could stay. It was not a huge step up from camping out but they had a roof over their heads, I think an outhouse, water sources and the insulation of a fenced property where the officials were not able to harrass them as much. Charlie Mike and I moved the horses down there about the 14th, riding and leading them. I think the burro was leadable also. One trip or two? I do not recall at all.

Again most of this is a restructure of very scattered and broken memories and a few notes later so the chronology and actual events are by no means concrete. I was and am thankful for the small ways in which we were able to exist and take a tiny step forward and up but it felt close to hopeless then though I was still only part of it for awhile. The rest of the fall saw the finale. 

These are the only pertinent photos I have, both at an earlier time but this was the place. The barn would have been behind the photographer here. In one, I see one of the Jeep pickups so that would have been several years prior. I do recall the horse, a palomino Charley was breaking and training for someone.  The peaked roof behind the Jeep might have been the barn--or not. Or maybe structures in the background in the other one. I doubt I could even find the place now if it still exists--too many years. Probably where Mingus Ave crosses the river on the bridge, maybe just below that? No matter. 

Memoir Monday,, Sept 1, 1967

And so it began. I have no record and almost no recollection of August 26-31, 1967. They obviously happened, and I imagine Charlie Mike and I watered the horses at the river and maybe started collecting things we wanted to be sure we kept.  I suspect I was moving along pretty much on auto-pilot, the lights barely on and I was surely not 'home' or all there. The following came from my after-the-fact notes.

Sept 1, 1967 Friday

On September 1, a platoon of law enforcement people arrived early in the afternoon with a big Mayflower van and several stout stevedore types. Dad had gone to Phoenix in Big Green for what purpose I no longer remember, so Mom, the boys and I stood by and watched them take everything out of both houses. We gathered camp gear, firearms and cameras, some horse gear, a bunch of supposedly valuable papers key to ongoing legal efforts, and several ice chests full of food. We stacked them across the alley. I was ordered to keep an inventory on the loading and did so as best I could.

Since some personal property is exempt from seizure for debt or bankruptcy, there was some effort to separate the categories. ”Ours” would be stored in Prescott until we could reclaim it and the rest sold with proceeds going against the unpaid rent. In reality, the storage items were not reclaimed for twenty two years.That was done in the fall of 1989, another odd part of this almost endless tale. Dad had passed away close to a year before my husband and I finally helped Mom and Alex collect this property.

A Note, aside: Long before then, after I was married, I had tried to get permission to take and store it in our home to save the monthly cost but Dad threatened to sue us and threw huge fits. Why? I have no idea!! Loss of control, I suppose. By this time, Jim and I were deemed untrustworthy and actually featured on the “enemies list” most of the time. Mom had faithfully paid the bill all those years although I had taken care of it a number of times since there were some things I hoped to reclaim eventually,

We probably had some warning, even an eviction notice before the actual event. We may have already packed some things to keep with us. Again I do not recall. At any rate, the family of five and one small dog were now actually homeless. Charlie Mike still had Ringo. When Dad got back in the evening, we loaded all we had kept into the truck and drove it down to the canyon near the corrals. There we set up camp. Tarps over the high rack on the truck made a shelter and we also put up the old 8x10 wall tent. Maybe another one too? We had already hauled down what hay we had and stacked it, brought other key horse stuff along, etc.  As I say, it is all a hazy nightmare. But that was how it began..

A few other facts. The white Ford pickup had been repossesseed after they quit paying on it since it was still not clear of the lien. That left the big old F750 their only transportation. I was really furious that Dad left when we knew the actual eviction was going to happen. I am sure he had some allegedly valid and critical business to handle.  In retrospect, it may have been wise or best  as he could have gotten into a physical or even armed fight with the officers. But to me it felt so typical of his shrugging off the hard and dirty parts and letting the family face them. I have a very dim memory of standing out in the sun near the loading ramp of the moving van and trying to annotate a list I was keeping of items as they were loaded. It was hot but not terrible that day.  To even begin to think of what was to be kept for us makes my head ache. We had some furniture and perosonal things--toys and books that belonged to us kids--and much of that we did get back with the final reclaiming, in 1989. Much of my stuff I had gradually taken up to Flagstaff even though I knew I had too much to manage well,  so other than one or two boxes stuck in the shed Charlie Mike and I had claimed and forgot about in the rush, I lost very little. In a way that is almost miraculous. I am so thankful I had that level of foresight.

A couple of photos--stark and now feeling unreal. Alex, looking lost and unsure and a general view of our "camp" The corrals were in the area above the table there.