It was getting late in my first summer after high school. The reality that my school days were done had not quite hit me yet. When it did, it was a rather sharp wake-up call. How was my life going to be and where was it going to go now? That $64,000 question took four years to answer. At times I wish I could have those years back to put to a better use...but life has no rewind or delete keys. You only get one chance at each hour, day, or year. Some do get misspent and some are very rewarding.
Aug 16, 1962, Thursday
Greetings. I’ve really got the early rise habit now. I woke up at 5:45 and dozed until 6:15. Usual chores. A car track and human track went down the River Road ahead of me. The car I found but the guy disappeared. Was it LS? I don’t know—different tracks but the same size shoe I think. I got a long awaited letter from Jose this morning. “My Dearest Princessa,” he begins. Thank you, Querido, You have not forgotten me, have you? This afternoon I wrote Shirley and Jose, fed the boys their lunch etc. I was going to walk to town but it stormed. LS did, in thongs and half-mast levis and open shirt. Que Creepo. Dad ended up driving me up. I mailed his letter to Uncle Dan on the Texas deal and my two letters. I spent 14 cents on you, Jose. You must appreciate it! I rode Annie out. She was quite calm despite the ‘restless’ weather. This makes ten consecutive trips for me. I can’t remember last summer’s record but I think it was twelve. I must check. I spent the hours after supper playing solitaire, watching lightning and idly dreaming. I wish I had just $20.00 to spend now. No such luck though. I’ll be lucky if I get my $9.50 back, really. Maybe someday I’ll be rich… I intend to anyway. Goodnight, Jose, yo te quieres mucho.
Ah so. LS --name not recalled but I called him Larry Scary--was a geek who lived down the street from us for awhile. A few weeks prior he had waited down by the river and more or less propositioned me. I cut him short but did not pull out my sidearm or anything as I did not feel that threatened. However he did kind of stalk me and he and his pregnant wife would try to scare my mount when I rode down the alley behind their house, about a block down from us. He had a target on the back porch and threw Bowie knives at it. Yeah, pretty weird dude. I had ridden that way before they arrived and did so afterwards and one time my dad kind of told him to back off or else. I guess it went on for maybe 4-5 months total. They left and good riddance.
Jose was my favorite pen pal at that time and I looked forward very eagerly to his letters. He wrote in different colors of ink for different themes or ideas. I kind of took that for writing in my journal, actually. He was not Latino but we did use some Spanish and I am not sure now why. He was Native American, I think Northern Cree, and Polish or at least said so. We never met but wrote for 2-3 years at least.
I think the $9.50 was part of my graduation money that had gone for some family purpose as allegedly a 'loan.' At least in my case, parents --or rather Dad--were not a good risk for lending. Sigh. I am sure I had seen the last of that.
As for rich, well not ever really. I did okay once I got through school and working and have never been truly homeless or hungry and today can afford all I need and some small treats and luxuries off and on. That is as good as one can expect really. At that time I thought all writers were rich and any novel would make a million. Ha ha. Ignorance was bliss. That is hardly even marginally true. Few do more than barely eke out a living. Including me despite having several novels published and a lot of shorter work. It is more for fun than profit!
Really no good photos to illustrate so here is one of me with Mindy and the Annie I mentioned. She is the one with the saddle and I rode many miles on her. She had nice gaits and was mostly a well behaved old mule. The little dog was named Sambo (not politically correct but okay in 1962), a pup of Charley Bryant's old female dog. What was her name? Have no memory!
This shot was out at the pasture corrals--land we leased behind Tuzigoot and at the south end of Tavasci Marsh which was their dairy then. I reached it by the River Road I mentioned except when there was a big flood and the trail would be under water. My route went past a favorite fishing spot right at the end of the Tuzigoot hill. The road ended on the bank about 100 yards above the river with a footpath or in my case bridle path, down to the bank. I went on across a mesquite flat to one gate into the pasture. Wait I do have a photo of that area a few years ago, about 2015. The gate was in the grove of cottonwood trees middle upper left. And the river bottom-last shot- is very changed now and not readily accessible. The hole was just about center--right down off Tuzigoot from which I took these two photos.
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