Memoir Monday, Nov 4, 1966

 As is now customary, start with the actual day being remembered.

November 4, 1966 Friday

This was a pretty wild day in its way too. Got up and took the rollers out of my hair and dressed for breakfast.  Came back and studied my accounting a little. Actually the test was not too bad.  I could’ve made a 1, maybe. Walked to town and mailed my letters and then against my better judgment bought the Marty Robbins record. Had lunch early and then looked over my notes before History.  That test was really a good one. I may have slipped a little but I think I did okay. Got changed and went back to town. I cashed a $5.00 check so I could eat and watched trains. Got back to the dorm about 5:00 after stopping to do some grocery shopping. Had dinner and went to the pep rally, parade etc. It was really a riot--our dorm did a card thing,. I was the “S” in the bash for Bash the Buffaloes. The bonfire and all was a blast. I got back about 8:15.  They said I 'd had a phone call in the lobby and he said he’d call back. Probably Jerry Airth. No matter. Dusty would not call that number. So I settled down for a snack and turned on the phonograph. I love that Marty Robbins record! I really do. I’m not sorry even if I may miss that $3.00 real bad. It’s just sooo good.

 'Course that phone could have been Jim, but it wasn’t Dusty or the folks so no se importa. I’ll get a lot of rail watching the next two days, see the ‘Jacks stomp the Buffaloes (hopefully) and maybe get one more chapter of Cindy rewritten. I’ll have a few blue minutes no doubt. Possibly Dusty will call but I doubt it. What do I get him for Christmas? Well it is two months yet but I’ve got to start thinking. September and October sure flew by. It still doesn’t seem real, just too good to be true and too easy and all. When will I wake up?

So now to move through the preceding week: 

October 29-30, I was in Clarkdale and spent a lot of time in bed. I was using the cot so did get up and dress, but then lay on the big bed that had been mine most of Saturday. I managed to do some sewing and finished the machine part of a couple of skirts I could complete by hand later. Charlie Mike rode Saturday but I got up Sunday and did ride Chief and lead Leo. Charlie Mike saw Earl and learned they were bringing in a steel gang to lay a short spur to the old factory building up toward the dump.  I noticed they had razed the second smokestack and missed it on the horizon. Charlie Mike said they did it Thursday.  Sunday Charlie Mike got bopped in the face by the Boss, supposedly for sassing. That will never happen to me again, by Jove! My brother was furious but kept his cool though I know he will rebel, probably sooner than I did. It was very peaceful coming up in the bus by moonlight  Usually there were only one or two other passengers and sometimes none.

Monday I was still not feeling well but did go to eat and made all my classes--even though they ended up making me very sleepy! In the middle of evening study, I had "caller in the lobby". I jumped up and ran down through the halls. It was Jerry Airth. We went out for coffee . I liked Jerry and did not have to 'put on' for him at all which was easy and pleasant. I skipped the dorm Halloween party and went early to bed.

The next day started off normal but the buzzer sounded mid-morning as I had "visitors in the lobby."I almost freaked.  I had forgotten that I had to meet some Santa Fe brass as a "representative" of the Clarkdale Santa Fe Fan Club!  Mr Burroughs(caption says different and has me at ASU instead of NAU!!)  'interviewed' me and the photographer snapped several shots. I had my hair pinned up in a new style and feared I looked dorky. I suppose I did an adequate job of being a fan club rep! A brief write up finally appeared in the Santa Fe magazine the next spring! (more on that when it happened)  Then Wednesday and Thursday were fairly quiet and ordinary. In the mail I had checks for $5.00 from Grandma Witt and $25 from Uncle Dan, both welcome since funds were getting a bit thin.I scolded myself for not studying much for a few evenings but had begun to lose some of my fear I could not make better than adequate grades. And in truth, I did. The next year was my worst but there were "extenuating circumstances" and I never dropped below a 1- average. Then it was Friday, as I already covered, and looking toward another NAU weekend.

Photos: Me and Mr Burroughs as I was being interviewed. This one appeared in the Santa  Fe Magazine the next March. Then the front door of the North Quad which is where we were standing.The two years I lived there, the first was around the corner to the left in this shot and the second around to the right. Part of the same structure, they were called Morton Hall and Campbell Hall. Who Morton and Campbell were I have no idea!

A'Ho and a Story

 This is  my 'freebie', an excerpt of the first chapter of a novel inspired by my regression experience and to a small degree Hillerman's book, Thieves of Time. In this you meet the heroine a young woman of the Anasazi people  who lived about the year 1000 CE. It was written some time ago and I would change a few things now but still kind of hope to complete it one dfy. .  The photos are not quite as I visualize her home but of that period and those people.

July, 1154 A.D.

In The Canyons, now Northern Arizona

 Change fell hard into Wind Dancer’s life, beginning the day she met the puma. It was her sixteenth summer and she well knew now what to do when the time of the blood came. She retreated obediently to the women’s hut. Normally she knew a day or two ahead of time and made ready. Things had been busy recently, and she’d lost count of the days. The sudden twist of pain in her belly warned her. She gathered the items she would need and hurried off up the path before she could meet and contaminate a warrior with her feminine energies.

 The path to the women’s place led steeply up from Red Wall Village. It climbed along the wooded hillside, then edging out around a sharp spur of cliff that jutted into the canyon. Finally the trail turned back into a steep, narrow chute to end in the hidden niche that held the women’s shelter.

 Wind Dancer walked fast, trying to ignore the stitching pain in her side. She clutched her pouch of shredded juniper bark in one hand and her new medicine pot in the other. The pot had gone through its first firing yesterday coming sound from the kiln. The shape felt smooth and right, fitting perfectly in her hand. Her work was good. All that remained to be done now was to paint the designs on the gently curved surfaces.

 Perhaps it wasn’t strictly proper, although no one had ever said it was forbidden to work on such a task at the Women’s Place. So, she’d paint while she waited there, where she had little else to do. The two small bags of white and black powder and the yucca fiber brush rested inside the pot.

As she walked out along the ledge around the jutting rocks, her thoughts centered on the patterns she intended to create. Rounding the tip, she jerked to a halt. There on the same ledge, not five bow lengths beyond her stood a puma, a huge tawny mother puma. The cat’s speckled cub paused behind, almost bumping against the mother’s rear legs. The puma turned her head just enough to see both Wind Dancer and the cub at the same time. She gave a coughing hiss. The cub mewed in distress, but it turned obediently and fled, back the way they had come.

 Wind Dancer edged over against the towering wall of red stone. She pressed so tightly against the cliff she could feel the cold through her leather tunic. Unless the sun shone directly upon it, the cliff stone was always cold.

 The great cat stood poised, one forepaw lifted so that only the front edge touched the ground. Her eyes flared green fire and her whiskers trembled. She wrinkled her nose, drawing her lip back to reveal keen white fangs. Wind Dancer’s heart banged against her ribs and bounced up to block her throat. Weak and dizzy, she slid slowly down, scraping her back against the stone until her bottom touched the ground behind her heels. She wrapped her arms around her knees and made herself as small as she could. Please, Mother Puma, I do not want to be your prey.

 The puma moved one step closer, another. She paused then, her tail making fitful lashes. She sank back on her haunches and watched Wind Dancer, just watched. Dropping again, she stretched her forelegs out before her. Lifting one great paw, she swiped her tongue across it and began to wash her face. After a moment, she changed paws and repeated the process. Wind Dancer hardly dared to breath. She wanted to shut her eyes, but when she did, it was even worse, not knowing what the puma was doing. She blinked and stared for a moment at the rim of the ledge.

 Silly human kit, I am not going to hurt you. Why are you afraid? Use your wits, child. What does the Puma mean? What is my medicine?

 Wind Dancer’s gaze snapped up from the stone in front of her moccasins. She stared at the puma. Had the great cat really spoken to her, mind to mind without a sound? There was no way to be sure for the cat simply continued her toilet as if she were all alone.

 Then Wind Dancer noticed a jagged white line running down the puma’s right shoulder to curve inward and vanish under her chest. At one time, the puma had a serious wound there, a wound that had healed with white hair instead of tan. Another scar across her face put a slight squint to one eye. This puma was a survivor, one who had endured and overcome painful injury.

 Her keen eyes held a strange calm wisdom as she gazed at Wind Dancer, scarcely blinking. You are marked for adventure, just as I am. You will see and do things none of your people have ever experienced. Your children will carry the legend of Wind Dancer and Thunder, and they will live to go forth when many die. You must be strong and have courage, for the survival of your people depends upon you.

 Again Wind Dancer was unsure whether the cat truly had spoken to her or her imagination was playing tricks on her. Surely enough time passed for the sun to travel across half the sky, although the shadows did not show it. She breathed slowly, as evenly as she could, seeking to calm her fears.

 Abruptly, the puma stood. She gave one sharp yowl and then in a supple twist, she turned around and loped off in the direction her cub had taken, stretching into long leaping bounds before she vanished.

 Every bit of Wind Dancer’s body shivered. She set the pot down at her side lest she drop and break it. For a long time she sat until finally the cold drove her to move. Slowly, slowly she pushed herself erect. Picking up her pot and pouch, she moved off up the trail, forcing one foot in front on the other, over and over.

 The puma had to be long gone, but Wind Dancer could not keep from peering into every shadowy hollow, behind every bush and tree and boulder. When she finally reached the hut, she staggered inside and sank to the floor, breathing as if she had run half the day.

Star Falling, one of the elders, was there to teach the two young girls who had come for their first stay. She came to Wind Dancer and knelt at her side.

 “Daughter, what ails you? You are whiter than new snow. Did a spirit cross your path?”

 Wind Dancer shook her head, striving to control her shivers. “No, wise one, but I met a mother puma on the ledge.”

 Star Falling leaned forward, keen interest on her weathered face. “Tell me,” she commanded. “Tell me everything that happened. This is a wonder, strange and terrible. I must know all that occurred in order to interpret what it means.”

 Wind Dancer told the whole tale as best she could, forcing herself to relive every terrifying instant. Her friend Morning Rain, who had come up two days before, brought a thick-furred blanket and settled it over her shoulders. Finally the fur began to drive the chill from her bones and her shivering stopped.

 After pondering for some time, Star Falling turned to Wind Dancer. “I think this beast is your spirit totem. Although your mother named you for the small quick birds that come in the summer to taste the flowers, the ones that visit in the season in which you were born, it may be that you need another beast to teach and protect you. Surely, if the puma meant you harm, you would not be here now.”

 “Aye, grandmother. That may be true. I was scared, but you are right, the puma made no move to attack or injure me. She could have done so, but she did not. If I ever see her again, I will know her, for she is strangely scarred. It even seemed that she spoke to me, although I could not be sure. I thought maybe I was dreaming of old legends with that.”

 

Star Falling smiled slightly. “Where do you think the tales comes from, Daughter? Once the animals did talk and we could understand them. Maybe they changed or maybe we did, but that link has been lost. It would be good to have it once again.”

 Thus reassured, Wind Dancer calmed enough to help with the preparation of the evening meal and getting the younger ones settled for the night. Still, when she finally slept, she dreamed of pumas and blood. She saw torn flesh, broken bones and blood splattered everywhere. They were horrible dreams. She kept waking herself from them only to fall asleep in weariness and dream yet again.

 **************

Wind Dancer awoke feeling tired and cross. She had slept badly and the gnawing pain in her belly did not subside. After eating a small portion of ground corn mush, she wandered outside and found a seat in the morning sun. It wouldn’t shine here long, so she’d enjoy the warmth and light while she could.

 Morning Rain soon joined her. “Star Falling is worried,” Morning Rain said. “I can tell by the way she’s acting, looking around as if she expects an attack or a bad storm.”

 Wind Dancer sighed. “I know. I feel something too, a trouble in the wind, maybe, or a restless spirit going by.”

 Just then Star Falling called them. “You two go down to the stream and get some willow bark. Blue Jay Girl is hurting too badly and she needs medicine to ease her pain. I used all I had for her last night.” She looked sharply at Wind Dancer. “You know how to get the right kind?”

 Wind Dancer nodded. “Yes, the inner white part, against the wood.”  She got up and went back to the hut to get her stone blade. The sharp edge of the obsidian flake would slice easily through the willow’s soft bark and peel strips of the inner bark from the wood. She could chew on a bit of it herself, which would relieve her discomfort, too.

 “I need to get more juniper bark,” Morning Rain said. “I thought I had more left from last time, but it’s almost gone.”

 Wind Dancer nodded her understanding. They shredded the soft, stringy bark of the “shag bark” juniper and put it inside a leather clout to catch their flow. When the bark became saturated, they replaced it and buried the used parts in a safe place where no one would be tainted by the blood.

 “There are junipers along the way to the creek,” she said. “We can accomplish both tasks at once.”

The sun was near the zenith when they made their way back up the steep hill from the creek. Morning Rain had a pouch full of juniper bark and Wind Dancer had enough willow bark to last for some time. She gnawed on a strip of it, tasting the bitter juice that dulled pain. Already the ache in her side had eased.

 They emerged from the bushes about ten bow lengths from the hut, at the edge of the little flat in which it sat. Wind Dancer stopped, suddenly sensing something was wrong. When Morning Rain bumped into her back, she put out a hand to stop her friend. “Shush.”

 A man stood in the doorway of the hut, a huge, strange man, perhaps half bear for his face was covered with shaggy reddish hair and more hair hung down over his shoulders.  She bit her lip to still her half-formed cry of alarm.

 As she watched, he reached back inside the hut and hauled Blue Jay Girl out into the light. The girl cried out just before he slashed across her throat with a bright silvery blade. Blood gushed. With ruthless force, he jerked the string of precious turquoise beads from around the girl’s neck.

 A gust of breeze rose then, bringing to Wind Dancer the smell of blood, just like in her dreams. Hot, sharp and bitter-sweet. Morning Rain screamed, starting forward before Wind Dancer could stop her.

 “No, no! You cannot do that to my friend, my little clan-sister.”

 Wind Dancer could not move. She felt as if her feet were trapped in deep snow or quicksand. Morning Rain was going to die and she could not prevent it.

 At that instant, a tawny blur came flying over the top of the hut. Wind Dancer heard a snarl and a thud as the puma’s leap put her on the bear-man’s back. He whirled away from Morning Rain. Blue Jay Girl’s limp body slipped from his arms. He slashed at the puma, but his shiny blade could find no purchase in the animal’s thick fur. The cat’s big head whipped in an arc before she sank her fangs into the back of his neck.

More blood. A red haze dimmed Wind Dancer’s eyes. Released suddenly from stasis, she turned and ran, blindly and without goal or purpose, simply fleeing from the blood, the torn flesh and broken bones. From the dead. Unseeing, unthinking, she ran and ran and ran until she could not run any more.

She bent to put her hands on her trembling knees, gulping air in great painful gasps. Her heart hammered against her ribs until she thought it might burst free. A red haze still dimmed her eyes, as if her face had been splattered with blood, clouding her vision.

 With a broken sob, she sank to her knees and then fell forward onto the ground. Had she been a coward, not going to aid her friends or had she been wise to flee and at least save herself? Her question brought no answer, and she was too exhausted to think about it.

 She curled into a ball, her knees almost under her chin, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as if she could close out the horrible scenes she had witnessed, and thus will them not to have happened.

 *********

Three photos are mine in Verde Valley, Tuzigoot and Montezuma Castle; last is borrowed but more the scenery I visualized

 

Memoir Monday, Oct 28, 1966

First the actual day. It was going to be another weekend down in the valley this time. I was fairly sure there were no more lurking catastrophes waiting for me but being sick forestalled it anyway.  

Oct 28, 1966 Friday

I knew I was sick but I managed to stagger to two classes anyway and to pretend to eat breakfast and lunch. I walked uptown and ran into the Boss, telepathed or maybe teleported to him that I was there. We ran a few errands and by then I was really ill. Went by the infirmary on campus. I had a fever of 102 and the doctor wanted to keep me but finally released me with a shot of penicillin  and some big capsules to take. Then it was home and to bed for yours truly. Sick again with a different medal. Maybe this one was in LA, you reckon? Yes, of course it was. 

So now back to the interim week. Not much to discuss--or was there? Oh yes, there actually was. First the weekend, October 22-23.

Saturday I had a donut and coffee in the CU (Campus Union--same bldg as cafeteria)and then dressed for the Honors Convocation. Of course they did this for Parent's Weekend. Well, I had no parents who wished to be there and no desire to have them there so I went by myself and got nice little certificates of Honors at Entrance and my scholarship. Back by 11:00,  I changed and took off to escape the confusion but came back to change again and go to the game with a few of the other 'parentless' girls. It was even better than homecoming and the 'Jacks won 32-12. I felt a little lonely and neglected that evening. Where was Dusty? And where was Jim McL? I really wished I'd have a "caller in the lobby!"

The next day I managed to get out and train watch, walk, then came back as it got windy. I worked on homework and on my Cindy and the Challenges book that had sat semi-complete for months. Later I found the little bridge up near the Chamber of Commerce building across Beaver from the depot and watched the trains and traffic. Back in the room after a snack, I was working on Cindy when I had a phone call. Finally! Very soon I was slipping into a little blue VW bug for the first time. We drove out to the west and off the highway to park near someone's big shipping corral right beside the tracks.Talk flowed easily as if it had just been days and not months, partly catch up and partly just reconnecting. (I spoke of none of the home crap.)  Then we had to touch. The magic was still there too. I would have stayed in that embrace 'til doomsday but the 11:00 curfew came too soon so we went back. Dusty said work was a bearcat and he might not get back real soon but he would,  and although he felt he ought to "set me free" to pursue some college men, he wanted more to keep me. I did not disagree with that.  He was very protective and possessive of me which I appreciated. He said "Give it (us?) another year." I was not sure the full import of that but trusted it meant good things. For now the reunion was all I could have hoped for. There was still an 'us' and we will go on. We traded medals for the first time in many months which by now had become a kind of odd little ritual.

The next four days passed with no fanfare. Classes and a few walks to town and the rail yard. I got letters from Jim and from Mom with no real news from home, got a bad grade on a Philosophy quiz but did better elsewhere. Went to the Rodeo Club and looked for some of Peggy Watt's friends Dusty had told me about. Not sure I really identified them but thought they looked buckle bunny cheap! I had also learned her boyfriend was a pre-law student, two years ahead of me. Whoa! There was a dorm meeting Thursday evening which I felt was a pointless nuisance; that made me late to bed, by then not feeling too good. Friday came then and another descent into the Valley as I already described. October was close to over, and almost two months as a coed were behind me.

Photos: Not "the" Little Bluebird but a very similar looking car I soon became very familiar with.  Then the new version of the little bridge I hung out near often; so many trees now in that arroyo. Next a view from 1966- same bridge-then this was a spur track leading  somewhere for freight to be dropped. It is now a foot and bike bridge with no rails. Last the Forestry Building where the Rodeo Club met in one room. I never had a class there. Kind of wish I had gone more that way. Different career and life? Too late now.

Memoir Monday, Oct 21, 1966

 Approaching another weekend to spend in Flagstaff. After the last one in Clarkdale, it was a welcome relief. to stay!  I was glad I'd had some distractions after I got back from that one. First, the entry for the day. 

Oct 21, 1966  Friday

 TGIF. Got up a bit reluctantly and trotted off obediently to accounting 157. When I got back I sketched fashion ideas for awhile . I barely made it to class in time after hemming up my green jumper. Thought I’d go uptown but didn’t. After lunch it was off to History and then freedom at last. I changed and went to town to cash a check. I bought some tape and green eye shadow and then stopped at the Goodwill Store. I got a little Kodak camera for Charlie Mike--like mine--and sorted through the dresses for myself. Finally picked out two nice ones, a pretty striped one for 60 cents and one neat black corduroy for 80. I thought they were pretty sharp bargains. There are two more totaling 70 cents that I wanted too.  Maybe later. Got back about 4:00 and fixed our door decoration panel. Had dinner and then came back to study like a good girl. I worked on the big accounting assignment for over two hours and got it all right except the final trial balance. Carol went out so I visited up and down the hall with the other girls who were decorating for Parent's Weekend and hemmed up the new black dress and pressed them both. By then it was a late bedtime. 

Now time to go back and fill in the week a bit. The weekend of Oct 15 and 16 was memorable but not in a pleasant way. Charlie Mike and I rode Saturday morning. Buzzie did not look good so I rode Chief and he rode Lyno. Later we went to look for Prez and Peachy--belatedly --since we were told they were back in the dairy. We found Prez, just outside the old pasture corral. He had a bullet hole in his side and had come back looking for help. We put him inside and went to look for the law. Sam Slaughter came and saw him but there was no proof... as to who had done it.  We went back twice later but there was nothing we could do for him now. We bade him farewell about 11:30. Then next day we went out and did a messy autopsy. There were two wounds, small caliber like a .22 long rifle. One had torn his intestines and the other had clipped an artery in the chest. I was kind if numb but also deeply pained. We had failed him and it should never have gone that way. I wanted to scream "mule murderer" at my father  but did not. Yet he had neglected trying to find them. This cut a final strand in me; Prez had been a good mule and I had ridden him many hours. It was an ugly way to die. We never did find Peachy but assumed she had died somewhere and was never found. I didn't care greatly about her as I had not worked with her much, but it was still wrong.

Back to Flag on Monday feeling a bit broken, I stumbled through a couple of days. Made my classes and studied haphazardly. By Wednesday I had basically found my footing again and Thursday I rearranged our room. Moving furniture around was another outlet for my excess energy off and on for a long time. Carol did not mind although it was a bit strange. She was always such a sweet, docile person, really.  I sure lucked out. I actually wore capris to a class--Science--that afternoon. Before long I was wearing dressy pants a lot. I had some nice riders in several colors with the wide flare legs in style then and plenty of tops to go with them..Glad they did not have a dress code! That evening I went to see "The Music Man" with some of the other girls. It was put on by the Music and Drama Departments and was cute if a bit amateurish. And then it was Friday again. I 'd planned to stay up that weekend. and did although it was a bit of a zoo with people coming and going. 

Pictures. All I can do this time is commemorate and remember Prez. He was a good mule, really a noble beast and served me well. Sadly I only have one photo of me with him and none of riding him. Not sure how or why that happened. Anyway, here in the spring of 1962, one that was almost part of my "modern style senior photo spread." Odd to be holding the big guy in my school clothes. He really was a big animal--see the size of his head! Then I do have photos of him with Charlie Mike and also with Dusty aboard. We all loved him. He was not over-friendly but enjoyed a good scratch and a treat now and then, like a carrot, apple or just a clean flake of alfalfa. Green pastures, old boy, until we meet again. I hope you knew you were loved. 

Memoir Monday, Oct 14, 1966

 October 14, 1966 Friday

First the journal entry for the date. 

Oct 14, 1966

Another day. I even made a "1" on my accounting test--what a miracle! Just one point above the bottom limit but so what?  At noon I got a card from Charlie Mike that the Boss would be up to get me. I fretted through the day, paid my meal ticket, fought the wind and was at the courthouse at 3:00. We went right down home. Charlie Mike and I went to the Mingus homecoming game and saw Mingus beat 32-19. That was terrible! I saw Jim but didn't talk to him. Did talk briefly to the Crawfords. It was sure cold. I about froze even with my new coat. This is some weather. 

Now for the fill in, nothing too critical. As for the 8th, Dusty didn't show up and I did stew. Well he had said maybe, not promised! I went to the game with some of the other girls in the dorm and it was a good one,  The Lumberjacks won 32-16, over the aptly named Missouri Mules--they were big and used rough tactics. It was a "band day" and I noted Mingus was there, band, twirlers and pompom girls.  "Now that I have my check",  I complained. "there is nothing else to look forward to." (There was really but I was feeling down.)  The next day I took a very ambitious hike, out to East Flag to "outfit alley"and the main ATSF rail yard there. I got some blisters and very tired! 

Monday there was a History test--and I was not sure how well I did on it.  I was scared stiff of the the first major test in General Science class--I felt it was mostly way over my head! Despite my good high school record, I was not very confident at this point. Tuesday I got a theme for English back with a "2" and Mr Goar (the prof) read one from another class that had me cringe with shame as it was so much better. I wrote "I often feel so inferior here and it is not very pleasant!" I also said I was not very good at studying. That was ironic to a degree but true. Most things I either get at once with no problem or tended just to blow them off.  That plagued me the whole time of my schooling  and I gradually drifted more toward things I could do well. I am still 'lazy' that way, I admit.

Rodeo Club Wednesday night with Joann Kendall who was becoming a friend. I had so little in common with many of the girls.  My spirits were lifted the next day in History Class when Dr McFarlane read my essay aloud (he usually gave essay type tests) and said it was a fine example! I got 97/106 for a sound "1". Thursday afternoon I talked briefly to Mr Swenson after I found I got 88/100 on the Science test. I admitted I was beginning to see a bit of light there and that I was starting to find Science topics such as atomic theory very interesting.  I was not flattering him or angling for anything although he was rather cute! But not my type. Then all it once it was Friday again. 

Minor explains. Mr Crawford had been my teacher in history and government at Mingus and we always got along well. His wife also taught but I think in middle school. They had two sons, one older and one in my old class who I saw at times at NAU. They were nice and seemed glad I was finally in college. Since there were now only the home chores, we'd had plenty of time to go to the game as we had started doing the previous year. Charlie Mike was now a sophomore and had a few friends, mostly the "fringe element" kids, as he was. That was partly due to the family 'reputation' and partly his own rebellious nature. At least he had a lot more freedom than I'd ever had, being a boy and 'safe' of course since boys don't get pregnant and loss of virginity is not significant! I was finally exempt from the 'rules' and most control, thank heaven! At times I was almost amazed!

Photos:  First is that East Flag rail yard area. It may have been snapped the very day I describe. Next is Mt Eldon, a less imposing peak but adjacent to the San Francisco Peaks and from the same volcanic action. This was taken from about the same area to the east as the railroad yard photo.  Last is the old student union building just north of the North quad. The cafeteria was on the left side and it also held a lobby/lounge area and a large auditorium where many events took place.  I am not sure what its purpose is on the campus now, like 200X and on! It is still in use though as I saw a photo where it looks much the same, at this fall's homecoming gathering of alumni. Old Kodak snapshot photos do not hold up real well after all this time  so often dark or dim but I am glad to have them. 

Memoir Monday, Oct 7, 1966

First the journal entry for that day. 

 Oct 7, 1966

 It was raining when I awoke but cleared by mid-morning into a pretty nice day. I only had one class all day and then freedom for the rest of the hours.  I went uptown and bought a radio at McClellan's. I think I’ll enjoy it the $4.15 worth all right. It’s a cute little beast. After lunch I went down and took the written part of the driver’s license test. Have to find a car by next Friday to take the driving part. Only missed two questions and I got in with the examiner. Got rained on coming back. I rather thought Dusty might call but if he did I was out. Carol and I ate early and went for a long hike. I took a nap when we got back and then we went to Yiya’s with another girl named Frances. She is 23 and a junior now but spent some time in nurses’ training in Phoenix. She cusses awfully but it’s just a pose. I drove out east with her to get a motel reservation for her folks for Mom and Dad’s Day. The ditcher work train is back by the freight depot so I’ll have to run up early in the morning to get the numbers. I sure hope Dusty shows up tomorrow. If not, I’ll stew all day long.

 Next a few bits of fill-in to catch up:

The weekend of Oct 1-2 flew by. As Charlie Mike and I rode, it hit me what a relief it was to skip the pasture chores. They had been a slave collar on me for so long. We rode up the track to mile and bridge #368 (# seems wrong but I wrote that) and found a small rock slide which we reported to Agent Lantz. The next day got hay, met and argued a bit with a local rancher and the brand inspector over Prez and Peachy being where they were not supposed to be. Of course the Boss just told them off and then made no effort to go find the two mules. Well, where would we put them? The pens at Clarkdale were full. I worried but  really did not have time to do anything anyway.  The local never got thru on Saturday but came in early Sunday morning. I was going back early Monday as the Old Man was driving me up. Back to time and space travel again to stay up for a couple of weeks.

 I was thinking  of asking Jim M to come up for homecoming; we were writing often now and developing a sort of friendship. But that did not happen. I ran my heels off Monday (Oct 3rd) barely making it to my first class--had to dash into the dorm and change when we got to Flag.  I was still hopeful of getting that driver’s license. Then it was Oct 4. I got a reply from Rollins (an ATSF Official in Winslow who’d passed the fan club stuff up channels.) I was studying in the room after supper when Joanne fetched me for a long distance call. There were two JoAnn(e)s. JoAnn Kendall, who was in rodeo club and a class with me and an "outdoorsy girl" while the other, Joanne Armstrong, had a room close to me in the dorm. This old dorm only had a few pay phones. 

I had to tell the operator who I was and then a familiar voice said “Guess who?” or “Do you know who this is?” Instantly I knew: Dusty!! He said he’d tried several times and always missed me. B&B 6 was at Drake, way out in the boonies. He was on a pay phone, I think in Williams, and it was very noisy. He really wants to see and talk to me but work is difficult lately so he was not sure when but he will be in touch. I was weak with relief, just to hear his voice after so long. June 16 to October 4 had felt.almost like forever.

 It rained again the next day; seemed it would never stop that fall. I still had not gotten my second check and worried about getting my coat and boots out of layaway before winter really hit. Then Oct 6 I got a letter from another Santa Fe official who wanted  an appointment to meet a “Clarkdale Santa Fe Fan Club officer” about November 1. And I finally got that illusive check, signed and sent it off at once to be deposited and went to pay off the boots and coat. I still loved them. I was also still using my checking account in the Verde. It was getting awkward and I would change it before long. I still remember that little radio--a transistor. It was round and blue! After I paid the next cafeteria bill, I would  have about $95.  I even read the original of Antigone along with Pygmalion which was assigned in a class. The former becomes pertinent before long. This jumping back and forth between two totally different lives can be hard at times. But still no deep regrets.As a much later friend once said, "You are always where you're meant to be." Could that be true?

A couple more NAU photos. Not much else to share. The first is how the Liberal Arts building looks now, taken off an alumni website. (Still LA!)  Then the second as it was then--it was probably where I had the most classes really. And last, another homecoming parade shot along the main drag in Flagstaff. Probably 1967 but not sure. 

Memoir Monday, Sept 30, 66

When you read today's entry, it is soon clear a lot had happened. That is almost an understatement!! In some ways I guess it could be termed the beginning of the end but the finale was still long in coming--a year and some, actually. Instead of explaining I will pick up and cover bits of a few intervening days to give this day a context. right after this journal page. 

Sept 30, 1966

I managed to keep busy.  To Accounting at 9:00 and then caught up on my homework so I’d have nothing to take home. Lunch and off to History. It began to rain. When I got back to the dorm I checked my message box and found a note from Dad. I guess I am psychic because something told me to check. I got my photos back  but they gave me credit for bad ones instead of film as it was most of the roll. I was a little peeved. At 3:00 I got restless and left with my purse, little blue overnight case and little blue umbrella. It had really rained and hailed uptown and it was a mess. I slogged along. We missed but the Boss finally came back to the courthouse and found me so we left.  Went to the bank to sign an affidavit (more of those damn things) and I saw another “Dusty look alike” but this guy wore engineer boots, a non-western shirt, and had a roman nose and a beer belly. But he sure looked at me strangely. We went home via the Montezuma Stable to see the animals and I got all the details of the past two weeks. It is really something. It had rained and rained and rained. But I was glad to be home for a bit anyway.

 I  mentioned the storm on the 19th and clearly it went on for some time. Must have been one of those tropical storms that came inland. As I said in last entry, the folks went out and struggled to get the pasture fences back up but that was a futile and wasted effort. Midweek, I think the 27th, I got letters from Mom and Charlie Mike and learned that all the pasture stock have been rounded up, loaded into a big stock or cattle type truck and hauled away to be impounded about Thursday the 22nd   Only Prez and Peachy were not found, probably off somewhere on the river. This becomes significant before long, like next time.  The only animals left in our control were those kept in Clarkdale, seven equines and one donkey.

I was really not shocked because we'd had conflicts over trespass issues and such for so long and the lease payments on the pasture had not been made for several months. It was inevitable. The odd thing really was it had not happened sooner. I felt guilty and sorry about it for awhile but came to realize my presence or absence would have made no difference.  It might have actually been worse if I were there and did something stupid. 

In some ways I was very mad; the Old Man should have seen this coming and taken some action like disposing of some of the animals, relocating them or ??? But he was too blind, stubborn and/or defiant, and too wrapped up in the effing lawsuits! I was glad at that point Tina was gone and Little Dusty although I was sad for Rico and Bravo and some of the mares and favorite mules but I knew in my heart they would be better off. From my departure on, they would not have gotten the care they deserved and needed. Charlie Mike could not do it on his own and had to go to school. Still that was several thousand dollars basically pissed down the drain. Even at slaughter rates. those 25-30 head were worth a significant amount. I have no accurate count but estimate that number. So very foolish and so  damned typical. . 

On to a few other things. I spent the weekend of 24-25 in Flag, walked a lot, and saw Maureen (Jewell--old Mingus friend) at the depot. She was going to Albuquerque and promised to write but it seems she never did; she just vanished. I think I have found her on FB but no response. I skipped the rodeo club picnic/barbecue as it was raining.  Sunday I actually got dressed and went to church, to the pretty one up Beaver. It was Methodist so not unfamiliar but everyone was 60 or more it seemed and I knew I would not go back although they were very nice. I think that was the last time I stepped into a church except for a few required funerals and weddings. What I was needing or trying to find did not seem to be there. I knew little about Pagan beliefs then but eventually found them and knew it was right for me. 

 Monday the 26th I saw Jerry Airth, another old Mingus alum.  He had been part of my Mingus Spirit staff in 1962.  He was now doing graduate work and a TA in the English Department. We went and had coffee and visited a few times. So much of the day-to-day was now even more routine than it had been as a cowboy girl. Nearly a month into my coed life, I said I cannot regret it. It was a choice I had to make, a fork to be taken. I will miss some things for the rest of my life but everything has to be bought in some way or another. 

The first weekend of October at home will keep until next week but I will mention I soon finally heard from Dusty after I was back at Flag! More on that next time. No, I an not trying to create cliff hangers! 

A few more scattered photos, looking back in the dusty vaults. First two of the family working on the flooded fence. Mom and the boys and then Charlie Mike--maybe posed as he cannot recall dad letting him use the chain saw. Next looking down on a familiar scene really never to be visited again. And two more from NAU. First at Homecoming with some of the guys pulling the old Lumberjack Wheels in the parade. (football players or foresters? Not sure!) and a view from the NE corner of the North Quad toward the SF Peaks. There are many more buildings around there now.