Memoir Monday, July 4, 1963

The second summer of what in my big memoir is called "My Four Year Sentence." It was just that or maybe my indenture? I often felt like a prisoner or some kind of slave and knew no way to extricate myself once I was in the situation. Almost took a massive explosion!

July 4, 1963 Thursday

I waited until 6:30 to get up today but I finally did and I cleaned out the corrals too. We talked a lot all day but I don’t know if any conclusions have been reached. We drove out to ‘shoot’  Rita. Pepper had bitten Leo Bible’s ear and got beat up for his pains. I led Chief when we got home. Finally I came in. I spent quite awhile making lists of specifications for ranches. I only meant to rest a few minute but I fell asleep and slept for over an hour. After lunch we talked the afternoon away. I led the ponies up. They are always a double handful and tonight was no exception. We drove out and barely finished our chores before the fireworks began so we watched them before supper. They sure were pretty. I do hope we leave here. That’s nearly foremost in my mind now. If nothing has been done by my next birthday, God grant me the courage to strike out on my own. But I hope I shan’t have to. I’m lonely again tonight. It is unnatural for a girl my age not to have some sort of a boyfriend. There really isn’t anything wrong with me. I think in a new area I’d have a better chance. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking…  Oh damn, it all. I feel bad tonight period.

Sometimes we did slow down a little for holidays even if they were not marked with a lot of celebration or anything special. I must have had a hard night or not been feeling well but I had developed enough discipline and determination to do what needed to be done. So I played  "Little Red Hen"--anyone remember that little story?

The young mare Rita was fairly new. She had arrived about mid-February if memory serves. I think at this time we were having a run of distemper going thru the herd and that's what the shot was for--an antibiotic to help ease the symptoms since it was a virus and not too subject to antibiotic treatment. It kept down secondary infections at least.

Pepper was an obnoxius jack burro with a real mean streak. We had to keep him separate from the young mares and filies and he even hassled the older ones. Kicks did not see to faze him. He lunged and bit me in the back one time for no reason. I got a mesquite limb and beat him a bit more than I liked to do to any animal but I was very mad! I was lucky I had on a heavy jacket and that was all he really got hold of. Leo Bibles--some of those Quarter Horses had oldd names, the bibles probably came from her mother-line--was one of the yearlings we had taken on consignment for a bit. We did not end up keeping her. I cannot really remember her color now. Maybe light sorrel or buckskin?

The disillusionment and depression was getting harder to fight off. I did at times and could be fairly content for a bit but then something else would happen and flatten me. I really missed having any sort of social life. I was 21 this year and legally of age. I could have just told the folks, Dad especially, to shove it and gone on as I wished but the enmeshment had me trapped in a cobweb net of psychological confusion and a misplaced sense I truly must not leave as consequences would be awful and I probably could not make it on my own anyway (I had been that beaten down and lost all confidence and sense of self.). I kept setting deadlines for myself only to let them pass and slide away since I could not quite dare....  I was chronically tired. I did do a lot of work but depression can also manifest that way.

I always loved fireworks. We usually watched from our front stoop which faced out to the north with a good view east over the ridge to the Peck's Lake site where Clarkdale did their display at that time. Once or twice Charlie Mike and I had walked over to the lake but that was usually when Dad was away on a trip. 

A few pix for eye candy or interest: The first is me with Alex on that step or stoop. It was July 4 but 1961, so Alex would have been two.  Next is Rita--just another grade Quarter Horse (not purebred or registered) and finally Carolyn  Reed (Lyno), one of the fillies we did keep and a half sister of Leo Bibles--I think they looked much alike.

Memoir Monday, June 27, 1963

 Now into the second year of cowboy girlhood. The new had worn off--if there ever was any--and there were some good days, many dull ones and a few frankly bad. It was almost a dream by now that I had ever been in school, much less graduated in a brief spotlight..

June 27. 1963 Thursday

Dad took off quite early. I half-awoke but remained in bed, really rolling out about 6:00. Mom got up too and helped me carry down some water. I got an early start on my riding . The herd was gone but I did the usual chores. Back home, I led Chief and stopped on my way back for mail. I finally got my ‘party picks’ and the rest was mostly real estate letters. Finally the chores were done . I came in and tackled my project for the day--my ruffled blouse. I got the main part of it done. All I have to do is the sleeves. I think it will be real cute. I worked over two more chapters of Cindy Walker. It’s shaping up nicely. Charlie Mike rode his bike out with me to do the chores. All was okay and the herd was in except for Rita and Trink. We did the home chores and went to the Little League game. Charlie Mike’s pals won 3-2. It was pretty dull. Going places only makes me discontented, I should just stay home. I am awfully curious what Dad is finding out. We’ll know tomorrow I guess.

I can't recall without looking it up where Dad was going, whether another 'ranch hunt' expedition or some other business. No matter. Life at home went on as usual with mostly a slightly lower level of stress for me even if I was fully responsible for everything involving the livestock. I did not even mention which citter I rode out to the pasture. We'd had Chief since the previous December, the Appaloosa stallion we bought and kept for several years. At this time I did not have permission to ride him, not that I couldn't have done so as he was a reasonably well-behaved horse, about as managable as many geldings.  But Dad had the notion--later dropped as a matter of convenience-- that a girl should not ride a stallion. IMHO total bullcrap.

Chief was a good looking horse, bright copper with a classic 'blanket' rear pattern. He had a slightly coarse head as many Appys do but was a handsome horse. He produced good colts and almost all of them had very good dispositions. 

"Party picks"? If memory serves it was a boxtop offer sort of thing-small colored plastic skewers one might use for canapes or crudites. Since I did not entertain (LOL!) I have no idea what I planned to do with them. They were around for ages and I finally tossed them in the trash or a box for the thrift store decades later.

I do recall the ruffled blouse. I even have a photo wearing it. It was a major take-off from my usual western shirt pattern but turned out good enough and I had and wore it for several years. The fabric was polished cotton with a floral design, mostly in turquoise or aqua, always favorte shades. It made up nicely.

"Cindy Walker"--yes, that was my project for a YA novel that I worked on for quite awhile--literally years.  I still think it is a good book but now terribly out of date and I see no way to make it work in the 21st Century. The heroine was a ranch girl who's dad trained horses and she had a number of adventures, often not too different from mine, but her life was considerably different--she even had a boyfriend before it was over!  A friend and pen pal did some fine pen and ink illustrations for it and I seriously tried to sell it to a couple of places when I was in college but I was terribly naive about the whole publishing process and did not get too far. I now have only a slightly blurry photocopy of the manscript and would almost have to retype it all--about 30,000 words worth. No computers back then. Too bad...

For some years Charlie Mike and I did have free evenings in mild weather and wandered around a lot, went to games, saw friends and other stuff. We were supposed to be home by about 10:00 and normally were but we really cherished this freedom since for the most part we had very little! Despite the fact I was now 20 and he was approaching 14, we were under rather strict and solid control. Why did we allow this? The enmeshed family thing, mostly, I think. Rebellion was not easy and could get ugly.

Pictures! Me in the ruffled blouse. Chief (registered name Yavapai Chief), one illustration for "Cindy and the Challenges" and part of the color study meant for the book cover. These were done by Judy Crouch who did the painting of me on Leo I featured on my FB page recently.

Memoir Monday, June 20, 1962

 One more in the first month of my "new life." The prior-mentioned ranch hunt activity was continuing and I was really trying to start to believe (despite two years of disappointments and disillusionment already) although deep down I am sure I knew better. It was always those grandiose plans that actually had an ice cube's chance in Hades to reach reality. 

June 20, 1962 Wed

Today was the last day of spring. The calendar is a few days behind time, I think. I got up at 6:30 and fed the monsters. The folks were already up.   Dad left to go with Don Lee and I took off for the pasture at 7:30. I found Ritzi with a terrible gooey nose indicating distemper and nearly worried myself into a double stew. At least I got some mail today--letters from Shirley, Boots and Wayne. I was really hardly expecting him to write but he did. I guess I’m glad. I need some sort of beau. Saw the B driving up main this morning. Dad came back with no deal on Montezuma but preliminary papers on Buckhorn. I guess I’d really like to leave the Verde Valley. If I don’t go to college next year I’ll never hear the last of it here. This afternoon I rode over to Cottonwood to get some medicine for Ritzi. I talked to Mrs Schauffler on the phone this morning and to Dr Al this afternoon. I had just swatted Trixie across the ears for spooking at a motorcycle when Gordo (aka the B) came around the corner. Like he really stared. Guess he got a free show--my blouse was half unbuttoned in the struggle. Proves I was wearing something under it, no?  We drove out to feed and gave Ritzi her first dose of penn-strep. She seems better and Dad said for me not to worry about her.  I’ll probably get to go see Buckhorn and another ranch down there in a few days. Boy, I’m glad today is over. It has been a good few days but kinda rough on the nerves. I’m almost convinced we might do something eventually.

My memories of Don Lee, a glib and ambitious real estate guy, are of  a short, husky guy who drove a fancy car, Lincoln or Chrysler I think. I went along on one trip a few weeks later and was impressed and entertained by his tales and wild ideas. My enchantment with the pen pals and such was wearing thin and I was beginning to think I must eventually choose between the "Prince" (the suave, educated and well-heeled type) and the "Cowboy" (the rugged outdoors type man who was the modern version of the TV stars in the'westerns' I'd loved and a younger edition of old heroes Charley Bryant and Leo Greenough.) I had been avidly looking for my "hero on the white horse" of some kind since I was about twelve and now nineteen was behind me. The dream was slow in coming true!

Let's see--Shirley and Boots were girl pen pals and Wayne you  have met before. I still liked to get mail and was always a little aggrieved when I had nothing in the PO Box! I had begun to debate with myself whether or not I wanted to or even could go off to college in the fall--or not. I knew I would hear about it from many local people if I did not, but I was timid about the idea of going clear to Phoenix since my scholarships were for Grand Canyon--then College and now University. 

Even how to get there? (I could not count on my Dad driving me or at least didn't think I could because on one hand he talked how great it would be but also there was a strong hint of not just yet... ) After all, I was doing a lot of work, much of which Charlie Mike at 10-11 was really not able to take over. So who would take care of my equine and equi-assinine babies if I were gone? Serious issues at that time at least to me. I was stretched like a rubber band between wishes and doubts/fears.

Dr Al was the local veterinarian of whom we were becoming  frequent customers. Ritzi was about two years old and had been born to the mare we got, Queenie, in a batch of mules from the Kansas stock dealer, Willis Grumbein. I was planning to start training her soon but she was illness and accident prone. A plague of distemper had been going through our herd and she got it.We never lost an animal from it but had to doctor a lot. It was a rather nasty bug.

I'd ridden Trixie, who was a good little mule but a bit flighty still at times, over to Cottonwood to get the meds and a motorcycle spooked her up near the high point on the highway between the towns as we returned.  She managed to jump halfway into the road just as one of the propane company trucks came along--with my favorite SOB at the wheel. Oh dear. 

So just a typical day in the life of the Cowboy Girl in Clarkdale in June 1962...  There were to be many, many more of them. Had I  known how many perhaps I would have forced the college issue? No, probably not --I was so lacking in confidence and trust in my own ability to do anything different and new. In retrospect that is sad and  yet rather inevitable due to what I had already experienced. The enmeshed family and emotional incest issues were there and conspired to build big limits for me.

For reader-tax--a few photos:  Trixie. that was my little saddle on her. She was small and cute. Next me. I had made that shirt and really liked it and was clearly dressed up here to go somewhere--maybe ranch hunting? And Ritzi-not a good photo of her, shaggy in a winter coat when she was normally shiny and a bright sorrel color with flaxen mane and tail. Mom was feeding her some grain in the bucket.

Memoir Monday, June 6, 1962

 Just a short week from graduation and all the 'pomp and circumstance' but it was already fading into the distance, part of history. As of June 1, I had begun a new and rather different era. 

June 6, 1962, Wed

Today we were all lazy. I didn’t get up until 8:00 am. I took off immediately after breakfast leading Prez. The herd was down so I didn’t have to go mule hunting. I fed the mules and horses and came home. No mail for me for three days straight. Nobody loves me anymore. Jose mio, donde esta usted? I put my mule up and came in out of the heat. We were talking more about our latest discovery. It sounds fabulous but I dare not get too excited about it. It might disappoint me and I simply can’t stand that again. We are all going to Phoenix tomorrow and then on over to Wickenburg to look at those two ranches near Castle Hot Springs. Then Friday  or Saturday we’ll go up to Hackberry-Valentine . I went to town for Mom to mail some letters and cashed one of my checks and bought a pair of thongs and an ice for Charlie Mike. Earlier I was out tanning my legs and watching the kids bike when the Bastard and two buddies drive by. I can still read a lot from the way he was looking at me all the time. I rode Cinder out this evening. The herd was still down so no worry there. After supper I went up to visit Evelyn for a bit. It still doesn’t seem like summer, really. I guess I’ll fall into the routine pretty quickly though. I’m not sure now whether we’ll all go or not. Actually I don’t give a nothing. If we don’t, I’ll ride to Cottonwood and scare up a little excitement over there. I am man hunting for sure.

I was still adjusting to the new schedule--no more school and for awhile it felt like just another summer vacation. Through the summer I still had some vague ideas that I would go off to college come the fall  but that did not happen and in September I realized with a shock there was no more school to return to.

I've mentioned the 'ranch hunt' stuff before. That went on and on. It was almost a carrot dangled in front of me at times--the dream we'd get a nice place and have room and good facilities to do the livestock business. I had not yet got totally cynical about the prospect, close but not totally!

I was still caught up in Jose as a favored pen pal. He was or at least seemed to be a fascinating character. Later I realized I had let myself become enamored with an imaginary vision, one that probably had little similarity to the real person behind the multi-colored incense scented letters I received and answered for close to two years. The Bastard was my final epithet for the guy who had almost gotten me into trouble and had haunted me as a nemesis for some time, actually since the summer of 1960. It kind of fit as he was really not a nice person and I had been far too naive and gullible to his blatant flirting and barely decently worded propositions for quite awhile. When I finally caught on I was furious at myself and at him and told him off.

I was always swapping mules back and forth. Prez was becoming a favorite mount along with Annie. Trixie and Cinder were smaller and also ones I liked. Going to the pasture daily, often twice, was one of the major 'chores' which were rapidly becoming a full time actual job that occupied me 12-15 hours a day for much of he next four years. Within another week or two I was fully into the cowboy girl routine and that absorbed most of my time, energy and attention for four years.

Two view of part of the pasture area--one shows the corrals and the other from the point directly across the river from Tuzigoot. The row of trees closest to the hills was in the pasture. 

Memoir Monday, June 13, 1962

Not quite two weeks from graduation. Some disillusionment set in fast but it came and went. It is hard now to explain, much less defend how or why things went so much awry and why I tolerated and suffered through them for a long four years--June 1, 1962 to September 8, 1966. This period is probably the main reason I am working now on a detailed memoir and semi-autobiography of my first quarter century. I need to try to understand and also to demonstrate that one can be mired in a pit of  psychological quicksand to the point where escape seems impossible and yet in time do so and rise above, move past  and make a new path and life. That I did so is one thing I am proud of. I had little normal human help so I have to be deeply thankful to my personal Deity and guardian angel(s) who surely watched over, protected and guided me.

June 13 1962, Wed

Damn, I’m so sick of everything. I got up at 7:00 to help Mom water and feed. Right after breakfast Dad and I took off. We stopped by the pasture to feed and then rode on down to Montezuma. We climbed all over the darn place, looking at fences etc. I was already tired . We had to change our right front tire this morning and get it fixed. While sitting in front of George’s Union Station, I saw the Bastard go by --big as life and twice as ugly. Anyway, that Montezuma ranch will sure need one hell of a lot of work to fix it up. It is awfully pretty down along Beaver Creek but that place is a mess. Dad and I drove all over out there to Rimrock Acres, Montezuma Country Club, Rimrock Ranch and finally around to Sedona on the new road and home. I’ll have to admit that Arizona , the Verde Valley in particular, is awfully pretty. Coming back I saw the Bastard again. He was laughing with one of his buddies and showing a mouthful of teeth. To hell with him. I rode Cinder out and did the usual chores. I couldn’t get the herd in. Hell--let Johnny T worry about them. They are on him, not me. Don Lee called this evening. I don’t know--maybe Dad will go down there tomorrow. All I know is I’ll stick here until September and then I either go to college or go away and get a job unless we are moved.  No ifs, ands or buts about it. I’m free, white and nineteen and my own woman. --til I see the Bastard or hear from Jose or Juen (Wayne) again!  

I've  mentioned the "ranch hunt" before and that will be a frequent theme for the next two years and even parts of the whole period. This effort was ongoing but in fits and starts. This particular summer we made a lot of trips and got high hopes which collapsed over and over again.  At this time the Montezuma area was not developed as it is now so there were many vacant tracts of land and places that had been abandoned. The one we looked at was owned by the brother of the Don Lee I mentioned who was a real estate agent.  If memory serves, it was hilly and rocky for the most part, full of tumbleweeds in the lower or more level parts and had sagging fences that would not keep much in or out. I could not find it now to save my life, but I was very unimpressed! Although I said we 'rode' I am pretty sure Dad drove down to that area as the rest of the tale indicates.

As I said last time, the Bastard was my ultimate epithet for the guy who had been my crush at one point and then became my nemesis when I finally realized what a piece of trash he was and how stupid I had been to be taken in by his flirting and increasingly blatant propositions. I was not longer 17 and legally protected jail bait so it became hazardous for me fast. I told him to disappear from my life and not to acknowledge me in any way. He did, except for staring at times still. I was not such a femme fatale--the cowboy girl in dirty jeans, manure stained boots and and never any makeup or fancy stuff. What did he see in me except one who got away?

My language had gotten rougher. There were still some words I did not use and actually did not for many years, but I cussed quite a bit though limited it around my parents and most adults--other adults I guess I should say since I was really one myself by now although most of my life style did not reflect that. I mostly kept a sense of humor anyway, often dry, wry or even sarcastic but it was there.

Riding to the pasture was a constant chore. By my usual route down the 'river road'--roughly where the Tuzigoot highway runs now-- and then down into the river bottom at the end of the tailings pond and around the corner to the gate. It was about 2 1/2 miles each way. At a lope or a hard trot I could travel it in about ten minutes.Taking a rough count out of my journal where I did document my work most days as well as the weather, for the 214 days from 1 June-31 December in 1962, I made that trip on horse or mule back 249 times. We drove around by the road thru Tuzigoot, now no longer open, to haul hay or do some work there 118 times. 

A few semi-relevant photos: Charlie Mike helping as I saddled up a mule to probably ride out.  Not Cinder that I mentioned here but probably Annie--Cinder was not that tall. All three of us sitting on the Ford pickup, looking ragged and ratty as usual--the growing boys in high water pants and all in clod hoppers or ragged tennies. Last me by the pickup, likely going somewhere since I was more dressed up than usual, wearing good jeans and one of the many shirts I made.

Memoir Monday, May 30, 1962

The last day before graduation and so the last day of my high school era that I will feature in the blog here. Time to move on. There were four difficult years ahead which at the time I did not foresee.

May 30, 1962

Today was a nice day, warm but a little windy. I got up and fed the monsters and Mom baked biscuits for breakfast. I loaded four bales of hay --boy were they heavy-and Dad drove out to the pasture with Charlie Mike and me for the first time in over a week. The herd was up by “Old Bill’s” campground. We fed the monsters and came home. Mom was doing the washing so I baked some cookies for lunch, fed the boys, etc. I ironed my graduation dress and my ‘umbrella dress’ for tomorrow. I rested and wrote four letters in the afternoon. When I rode Annie out the critters were down at the south end of Tavasci’s so I didn’t have to go fetch them.  I took a bath and dressed up so Dad could take some pictures of me. I sure hope they come out. He took six  with my camera and four with the Rollieflex. I hope I looked glamorous! Anyway Dad said my hair was real nice and Mom said I looked nice too. I held one of my pretty pink roses. Well, supper is now over and I guess I am as ready as I’m going to be for tomorrow.  At least I’ll have  all afternoon to get ready; I will rest and practice my speech and stuff I guess. Now for my beauty sleep. I’m anxious and excited and scared and happy and nervous and scared!

Since the Monday Holiday thing did not take effect until 1971, Memorial Day was still on May 30 at this time so it was  a holiday with no school. Thus it was an at home day with some chores and some looking ahead--with a level of anxiety!

Either Dad had been sick or on a trip, it appears. At any rate he drove out to the pasture with Charlie Mike and me that morning. "Old Bill" was Bill Nelson who camped in a shady grove just at the SE corner of a large part of Tavasci's dairy for awhile as he was homeless. He was a pretty good western artist and hocked a couple of paintings to Dad for a loan to help get back on his feet. By this time he had reclaimed them and moved on but we still referred to that spot  as his camp. The mules were either just on our side of the fence or maybe across. The cattle guard on the road was pretty filled in and they could walk it. We had a gate on it for a bit. 

Chores went on as always but I had more free time than often and used it to get ready for the last day.  My "umbrella dress" was new, a gift from Grandma Witt, in a light sort of voile fabric and the skirt had a print of umbrellas--or actually frilly parasols. Of course  my graduation dress was also hand made and I was very pleased with it although by today's standards it was very childish and would draw scorn and laughs. First communion maybe--at age 12??

Although I often felt they did not feel much positive about me, my parents did seem to be glad and proud that I was to be valedictorian and was getting some recognition in the local community for that fact. We were not taking birthday or Christmas photos by this point but Dad did get some of me dressed up for the Big Event. An older couple had come by and given me a bouquet of lovely roses from their garden the day before and I held one for a couple of the photos. I have no idea what happened to the negatives of the photos Dad took as all the ones I have now were from my little Kodak snapshot camera.

Yes, I was still quite timid and the idea of speaking before a big (to me) crowd was very intimidating. I knew I would probably talk too fast and perhaps even stumble and stammer. I guess I did not do badly when it finally came about. I had my 'visit from grandma' as we girls called our period that day and took some stronger pain pills left over from some dental work so I was about doped to the eyeballs during the ceremony. It did help to suppress my nerves!

This whole time seems so remote and unreal to me now. It almost seems like something I read or saw in a movie or TV show decades ago. Well, it is sixty years as of tomorrow so small wonder it feels very distant and almost fantasy. Now to the photo file and a small brag about  this distant person who may have been me in a prior life!! She appears in the two dresses I mentioned and the formal cap and gown--the only time I ever wore such since I did not go through either ceremony at NAU--and no regrets there!!

The first is on the steps on the art building. My friend Maureen took it and I took one of her there too. Next me in the white dress. It was sweet and girlish--perhaps very right for me as some sexy formal would have felt awkward to the cowboy girl I already was becoming. And last, the cap and gown--a requirement for the event. Graduation--commencement but also an end, a very final and slam-the-cell-door sort of end in some ways. That will come the next so many Mondays...

Memoir Monday, May 23, 1961

 Near the end of the next-to-last year of school. Nothing too exciting!!

May 23, 1961

Another day passed. Now there are only nine left. Oh yes,, I can live that long. In nine days I will have passed or failed chemistry. In nine more days I will be free. Today was a long and boring day in school. We are having an archery test in PE. Coming down the stairs I fell and twisted my ankle, sprained it really. I didn’t ride Ruby tonight. We drove out to the corral and I rode Trixie back. Had a little trouble getting things done but once I took off, I was okay. My ankle was stabbed with pain but victory was mine. She walked and fast too. Somehow then I knew we had it made. I knew I could stop worrying. Tomorrow Dad is planning to go to St John. I will have to get up early and ride out to the pasture. I don’t think that will be bad though. I was worrying about Wayne’s letter but the solution is don’t answer it. I will at least wait til school is out--that’s only two weeks--before I answer his or any other letter unless something happens to make me change my mind. Well it is early to rise in the morning so I am going to get to bed before 10:30 for once. Hasta luego.

I guess I had more trouble with Chemistry than any class I ever took. (Well except for Algebra II which I began and then after the Mule Year, never resumed again.) At this time I had a big mental barrier about math and science, especially math. I had little trouble with chemistry until we got to the formula and valance stuff--that just boggled my brain. I got a 4 (D) one grading period and scared myself spitless.  Somehow I pulled thru that and ended up with a sympathy 3 (C) for the class. Bless Mr Clark--he really was a nice guy and a good teacher if a bit crotchety at times! I had geometry with him too and that was not hard when I convinced myself the angles and shapes were really art, not math! 

I was never really a klutz ( ha ha) but I would get in too big a hurry at times and do dumb things like trip on the stairs. My poor right ankle took a beating; got a bad cut once and probably sprained it half a dozen times. Then I broke both bones just above the joint in 1999 and had a piece of metal put in to stabilize it. Not been sprained since! Dr Susini did a good job so I 'immortalized' him with a different name in my novel Hearts to Heal which also uses my accident experience for my heroine's first scene--and how she meets the hero! I will get that book reissued later this year.

Ah, the little mules that I especially liked: Ruby and Trixie. They were both smaller--just about 14 hands high, barely not pony-size, so easy to saddle and mount, Ruby was a dark Hereford red with a white star and Trixie was black with a white muzzle and a dainty dished face (I think) from her Arabian mare mom.

The mentioned trip was another of those "ranch hunting' treks. Boy did that get old after awhile and I became terminally cynical about the prospect of ever moving. And I was right--it did not happen. Wayne was an off-and-on favored pen pal. He was always planning to come down (he lived in Washington) to make a rodeo so we could meet but that never happened.  He had been calling me every 2-3 weeks and I suppose I got chewed out for that, though I am not recalling clearly. 

Oh well, the angst and aggravations of being 18 and still essentially forced into a 12 year old's life style although I did an adult's work with the animals and had adult responsibility in that regard. Socially, no way.  It has taken me over a half century to unravel all this crap--part of the process is sharing glimpses from it.  I felt so alone and alien then; now I know my odd life was not that unique or strange in a broad  sense--so many have gone through trauma growing up, many much worse than mine.

Some recycled photos: Trixie under saddle; me holding Ruby  probably the prior summer; me on Trixie on the North Point Trail, Mingus; and Wayne Wylder, rodeo cowboy and pen pal. Lastly, me in May 1999 with my denim blue cast