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 was left behind but it 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 part 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--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.

Memoir Monday, August 25, 1967

 I do not recall and did not note whether the folks came up on August 25 or 26 and got me or I took the bus down.  Suffice that I went and was present and 'on duty' for the duration. I found what it was like to be actually homeless and how grim and ugly life can be when there are few to no friends and many--maybe well deserved but still almost implacable--enemies standing against you.  Even when compared to many bad times in the revious couple of years, September and October 1967 were among the hardest times I ever experienced. Nobody died, not even the animals that were still a big concern of mine anyway. And I did make it back to Flagstaff in the nick of time to register and go on with my schooling. I thank my Divinity--The Source as I  now term them--and my guardian angel for that. It was a close thing.

The one entry, made that Friday evening:

Aug 25, 1967

I'm pretty thoroughly po'ed about everything. I was really dumb not to take off for California while it was easy. But if things don't turn up PDQ I will still do it. I haven't heard from JJM; I think he is a little unreliable but perhaps he had to return to Tucson. I may call him in a day or two just to investigate. Of course I could take off without his help but I'd kind of like to have somebody see me off.  I'm really proud of myself for not coming absolutely unscrewed. I've kept my temper beautifully, really. But actually it does not reach me. I'm outside of it all and just not afraid. Most of my stuff is absolutely safe, my scholarship is all in order for fall etc. If "they" (** note) tried to get that screwed up, I could really turn the tables so I am not too worried about it now. All I have to do is keep my cool for three weeks--or maybe less. 

**The 'They" above may have referred to either  my parents and those 'enemies', even very possibly both. I almost recall that dad basically threatened without him to support me and fight, those "enemies" could revoke my scholarship or bring some kind of charges that would prevent me from going to college at all. That was total bullshit and I knew it but still the old emotional blackmail and abuse had impact. 

Of course when I wrote that passage, I knew precisely what I was upset about and why, not that I would not recall the gory details some 58 years later. I am sure the folks had either written or called and laid a very heavy trip on me like I had better come down right away and that my future was at risk and all could be snatched away without warning by those evil enemies that were hounding them to the brink of disaster. I was urgently going to need their help. (Ha ha--what help could they provide??) I expect they did have an eviction notice now and not sure what other threats or actions they faced. It was definitely ugly,  nasty, very bad. I was still mad they had let matters get to that point while they kept thinking. pretendng  or trusting they could wave some magic wand and win. That was total insanity but who could tell them anything at that point, especially Dad? He was bonafide off his rocker. So I believe I did take the bus down Saturday morning or even that evening.  That's all she wrote, you might say. There were no more written words until September 17 when I was back at NAU, breathng a huge sigh of relief that I had gotten there. The dreaded drama was not over but I was partly free of it again. and only had to ago back weekends to try to fix things where it was necessary. I was still imprisoned by that damned Eldest Daughter geas.  (That is an ancient word for a spell or magical control but fits perfectly.) So much seemed to be resting on me and I had to make things happen when no one else would or could.. It was duty, it was somehow demanded and necessary. 

This final crash and burn had been building, perking and developing for so very long. I had seen it coming although not understood how and when it would hit.  I had actually known since probably even before I graduated from high school. It was all so incredible, impossible and the whole enterprise a drug-type bad trip dream. All those loans and 'ranch hunts' and endless whines to the relatives for just one more "help" that would make The Big Difference. Yes, I am still bitter. Charlie Mike and I both are. I never got quite into discussing it much with Alex before his death but he harbored a mass of anger, sorrow, and perhaps a little guilt although this went down when he was just eight years old. I am sure it marked him for life. How could parents, especially a father, actually do this to his family, his children? Someday on the other side I will sit him down and tell him in detail exactly what damage he did and ask him WHY. He owes me--all of us--that. He has been gone for well over 30 years now. Long enough I hope to see and regret and vow never to repeat those mistakes again.  If we truly are here to learn and grow---well, please, may that be so.

Picture: I just searched and found a royalty free image that fits. I did not look like that but I certainly felt that way! I wanted to cuss and kick and throw a toddler level tantrum! But I knew that was useless. I slid mostly into a zombie autopilot mode instead and recall very little detail as a result. 

Memoir Monday, August 18, 1967

August 18, 1967

At this point, the end was coming, like a runaway train full of hazmat down a rough track with a bridge out at the bottom of the steep grade. I had been semi-wired at the end of May, but I guess one could say "You ain't seen/felt nothin' yet.."  The first time was almost all about Dusty but this next time it was very much up close and personal and I was in the middle of it.  

Aug 16, 1967 Wed

I hate to hurry this way. Forgot to set my alarm so I got up at 6:40 or later and just ran beacsue I wanted some breakfast for sure. Made it to Math class. Right after that I left Danny Downing's four shirts in the lobby and  went to get some boxes at Foodtown. I said I'd buy them if I had to because I really need a couple more. Then I called to see how much more it would be if the warehouse sent a triuck down for my stuff rather than me bringing it up.  Kinda steep. I was tempted to cut Econ but didn't think I'd better. Both classes were getting hairy now. Colleen has sure made a mess of her packing so far. But then I am the "methodical Taurus" who goes about things "the efficient way." A few more boxes and I will have it 'whupped.' And I have a dinner date at 6:00 this evening. As if I didn't have enough to do!  Yes,  Jim finally resurfaced. 

When I woke up I was dreaming that I had just seen Moonspinner disappear around a corner and I was frantically searching and it suddenly got dark. There were trucks running everywhere and I was lost, carrying my suitcase. And I 'd left my ironing board up Leroux somewhere, where I had been ironing when I saw the old Plymie. That sounds crazy and felt so! (Leroux was a Flagstaff street, up town.) So now I'm afraid he'll call or come through this evening while I am gone but that's the chance I have to take. I don't think I'll hear from him for awhile, really. Maybe October, maybe never... But at least he called me in mid July and he had not been pushed or prompted in any way. That man can be unpredictable--but I love him anyway, maybe even partly because of it.

Aug 17, 1967 Thurs

Well, I  made it to class even if I was still awake at 1:40 am. Two no-doze pills and a cup of coffee ought to keep me awake through the first one anyway. So I went out with Jim M last night. He came about 6:10. We went out to dinner at the Afton House where I consumed $3.95 in Chinese chow. At least we didn't sit at the same table Dusty and I had but the same little Chinese man hovered around to see we were satisfied. It almost got on my nerves but the food was delish. Then we went to the "auto movie" and listened to tapes until the show started. We saw "The Secret of My Success" and "The Russians Are coming." The latter was good, both comic and serious, in a way. It was 1:00 when we left. At the dorm, he walked me to the door and then departed without even a goodnight kiss. I really can't figure that bit. He's taken me out enough now to feel he deserves a bit more than just the pleasure of my sweet company, no? So I search for a reason--shyness? He "respects me and awaits for me to make the first move"? I'm not atractive? He is afraid of 1) me 2) himself 3) getting hooked 4)public opinion or ???? I am getting to feel fairly much at ease with him, not like Dusty yet,  but I have to  admit that would likely follow an incrased degree of physical intimacy. In some ways they are quite a bit alike. If Dusty was 30 and really single, he'd probably be more like Jim, especially with an equivalent education and not just an HKU PHD!  If only he was. I guess he didn't call, perhaps tonight? It is almost the last chance but I don'texpect it at this late stage of the game.  Except for the birthday card, I am going to leave the worthy chap alone and let him take his own time about it. There is no use getting frantic.  I've got to get my stuff  'shipped out' today. Guess I'll put up a sign or two asking for help.

Aug 18, 1967 Fri

Well, my stuff is at the warehouse signed, sealed and delivered. I hauled it upthere in a Mustang, lent me by a friend of Carolyn's The math test wasn't bad, really. I may have gotten 100%, certainly not below 90% unless I am badly mistaken. I'm really unprepared on Econ--hope I do not flub up too badly. I don't feel very well and hauling that junk downstairs didn't help much. But I am just so thankful it is done. Uncle Dan called last night--don't know what will come of that but I'll let Charlie Mike go instead of me if it comes to that. It will take awhile for the excedrins to take hold. Why didn't Dusty call? 

Not to explain but a closing comment. For a long time I was too embarrassed to even mention this event but I know now none of it was my fault. The mixture of my parents' foolishness with some people who were probably justifiably angry and vengeful, resulted in situations and events which are not shameful. They are re-enacted in different ways frequently today. In today's environment they've become too common to be shocking. I did learn to feel some empathy for unplanned hardships and an ability to understand things I see, hear and read about now from real experience.  That was a key part of learning and growth which  I expect my energy-self needed.  I actually ended up going to Clarkdale, on August 26th if memory serves but I did not write it. This last week I wrote a few times, then once more on the 22nd. Then for three weeks, not one single word.  I'll have to reconstruct that from memory and notes I wrote after I was back in Flagstaff in  mid-September. Three weeks almost out of time, out of life, out of --just OUT. 

Pictures? My internal turmoil is hard to portray. Worry and dread were hard, cold knots in my middle, not quite a pain but almost. Like I swallowed a half dozen ice cubes or drained a big bottle of very cold water too fast. How do I symbolize that?  Seeing a storm and not knowing where it will go or when it will hit--that is the feeling! I found this long ago to symbolize a scene in a story I was writing but it fits.

Memoir Monday, August 11, 1967

And yet more of the same, a bright spot or two I guess. Again I was only in Flagstaff. Apparently I did not go down to the valley again after all. I cannot remember what Mom had said in a letter but it was not good. Had they gotten the eviction notice by then? Anyway I wrote about two days. 

August 7, 1967 Monday

Monday, Monday. It wasn't bad as weekends go--but they had the  QH show and the Rodeonand I didn't go to eitehr. The rodeo cost $2.00 a day and I wasn't up to walking out to Tuthill--the usual grounds for such. So all I saw of the 'festivites' was the parade on Saturday which wasn't really much. I did $2.50 of ironing and spent most of Sunday railbirding and got quite a bunch of numbers and even saw an outfit car--the kitchen/dining of Unit 96 it said. I felt kind of lonesome and sorry for myself but didn't break down. Last nigth I did my hair with New Dawn. It sure left my mop greasy and stringy. I'll probably have to wash it several times before it wil look decdent again. I have it in frumpy tails this morning. It's a damp and foggy morning, the sort that gives me the glooms, as a rule. But since i have quite alot to do today maybe I'll  make it until the sun shines again.

Somewhat later:  Got a b'day card for Dusty over the weekend and while ago I got it all redy to send  except for typing the address on the envelope.  This will be from Campbell Associates in Albuquerque. I am probably getting too smart for my own good but hopefully it will reach him with getting undue notice wherever it may go. No mail so far today but perhaps it wasn't up yet? I'll chcek again later when I exchange my sheets. At last look Colleen was still asleep. I rather like her but she is so untidy!  I'd never think of coming in from a date, no matter how late, and dump my clothes in a heap on the floor. But so long as she keeps the mess on her side of the room I can't complain. Maybe I'll give her a complex? Yes, I am almost too fussy I guess.  Rewashed my hair and it is not so bad now. I will never use that coloring again though but maybe one more wash will do the job. I may try a real dark brown or deep auburn rinse that will wash out next I think.  I would like to be a redhead but not a carrot-top. Or possibly a real brunette. I remember one succinct remark Dusty made about some 'beauty treatment':  "And look like a jackass like a lot of other girls ..." He really does not like a lot of fancy or fake.stuff. So I guess that is good since I am not going there much. 

August 11, 1967 Friday

Have the Friday sickness again. I almost didn't go to Math but was glad I did because we had a quiz and I think I did faiiy well on it. I'm now at the library nad have been studying Econ. I ithink I have the essay question down pat. It is all written out and I have almost memorized it. I'm going to get the mail before I go to class. That way I won't be wondering, at least. I'll know the best, the worst or no-news-is-good-news. If I don't leave I have a date tonight with a buddy if Colleen's Dave. Might be better than sitting and stewng, Gives me a diversion. We are doublinjg, probably to the movie. I hope he isn't the "Romen hands and Russian fingers" type because I don't feel like fighting but would rather fight than switch (lovers). Then I might have to get up at 7:30 too catch the bus home. Gee what a life! I had all sorts of bad dreams last night so I sort of dread to go down. But I will. I may not go 'home' for the vacation though. Living without water for a month etc. Why the hell don't they get out of there? I just get in a boiling fit everytime I think of it so I'd better change the subject Like get back to my Econ. 

No photos so just grabbed a few off the NAU site and share for how it was in the summer. I did love summers up there. First a view up one main street toward town, Next anotherview with the Peaks clear and bright and finally Old Main as it is these days. My dorm for the two years was just out of view to the right here. The old campus was really pretty and had a traditional feel. The new south and west part feels alien to me. Much more modern and probably 'better' to the feelings of most. Again you can't go 'home'

 

Memoir Monday, August 4, 1967

Continuing with another week in Flagstaff. I guess it was a blessing that I knew little about events down in the valley even if I did worry. Had I known I would definitely have arranged NOT to go down for those three weeks. Yikes. No, that is not true. In the end it was very critical that I be there I am sure. At least for the sake of those seven horses and  maybe more

.July 31, 1967  Monday

Glad the weekend is over. It was literally a drag. I went window shopping on Saturday and spent most of the rest of the day reading a book by Kathleen Winsor, much juicer than Forever Amber. The letter from Mom on Saturday was not exactly conducive to peace of mind. I kept debating what, if anything, I should do and came up with no answer. Then I got this longing for Dusty which even a ten mile hike could not have cured.  The color analysis bit really bugs me. I am afraid the turquoise fits too well and it is rather disturbing because I really don't want to be that type of person. An aside-Tte only way that going to Dusty was a mistake is that now I want to be with him all the time and it drives me wild. I am almost driven to the street but the idea of any and everybody gives me the shudders and except for an occasional fantasy, I really don't want anyone else. And even with him, I freeze up when I don't even mean to. That's the narcissism probably or emotionally hot and physically frigid, What a mess!! (Note--it was mostly just companionship and contact,  not sex that I was needing.)

August 1, 1967 Tuesday

It is chilly today. I wore my blue peasant outfit to math and practically froze. so changed to my turquoise riders and striped seersucker shirt, During the break I worked on Pony of Fantasia. I started on it last night and rough finished it while ago. I think I'll send it to Linda and see if I can get her to do some illustrations. I might ever try it myself but doubt that I'd be satisfied with whatever I'd create. But I may try anyway. Watercolor wash with India Ink sketching would be best. Rough it in with pencil and then put the wash on and finally do the ink. I can see what I want but doing it is something else. Next I am going to start on Pony and the Dark Horse. I already have begun chapter 1. I think it could be almost as good as Cindy and possibly even more commercial. 

August 4, 1967 Friday

Another Friday. I doubt anyone will be up to get me byaut one never knows. Yesterday I turned back the rest of my ironing jobsand also got the monthly $5.00 from Mama Witt so I went on a small shopping spree. I bought another multi-skirt hanger, a door closet extender, some paper, a teasing comb, some pop tarts, and the August Western Horseman.  Then I did some more sorting and packing. Two weeks from today I've got to be moving out. I'll call two storage warehouses for comparison next week to find out how much it wil cost me. Maybe I'll go through my winter clothes another time today and I may buy another trunk at Sprouse Reitz.  They have some for $7.44 now. I should've waited a little. Maybe I'll get a metal suitcase instead, like Dusty's. I will go look at luggage Saturday morning. Colleen and I will probably go to the rodeo Saturday afternoon.  We didn't go to bed until 2:00 last night and I really thought I'd die trying to get up at 6:30. It took some wiil power!  I got 11/11 on my last math quiz. We're going into stats now so I shouldn't have a bit of trouble. I believe I might make a 1. That would give me only one 2 on my lower division Gen Ed and also only one on my major courses too. Hope so!!  This morning I've got to go to the library and study Econ. We have a 35 question test coming. 

Pictures? Like what??   Oh, about those two books I was working on! Two if my illustration efforts--it was a kiddie fantasy about a pitiful pony that inspired a frail princess to improve and live to help it. These were not what I hoped for but... And a clipping that inspired Pony and The Dark Horse which got lost in the following months and years and never has been completed. Probably OBE too long now.