Memoir Monday, Sept 27, 1962

 Sept 27, 1962 Thurs

Saludos, yo. I rolled out when the sun was barely up and it made my hair gold as I went down to feed. I rode Annie out and did the chores. All was okay except Taffy had cut her right forefoot. We doctored Stony’s ear and I took Prez for a lead along the highway where I picked up three pop bottles. I wasted another day. All I did was make a few paper doll things and sleep. I seem to have to sleep every afternoon. Tomorrow I must fix these Capri pants. The zipper is busting out. I rode Annie out again as it was finally beginning to clear. I do hope it is nice over the weekend so we can ride. I rearranged some of my furniture this morning for winter. After the chores and supper were done, I worked on my poems. I’ve written several new ones recently. I’ll have to make copies of them to send to Jose. I wish he’d hurry up and write but I guess he’s busy. Old LS is still up to his tricks of staring. He’s a damn smart alec. Well it’s almost 10:00 pm. Not much else to add about today. I sure wish we’d get the money deals squared away so that we could have enough to eat first and secondly be able start on our various plans and such. Oh why must things take so long??

At this time I was out of school having graduated in May. Already those days were fading into the background. In a way it was sad because the last semester of my high school days was a high point of my life for some time. I had accomplished what I set out to do and done it well, if I do say so myself. I had picked up after being out for a year and did as well or better than I had before and ended up graduating with honors. Somehow the confidence and enthusiasm that gave me faded away far too soon and I sank back into the cowboy girl rut and again thought that was really all I could do, feeling my talents and hobbies were of no value--since I often got chided harshly for 'wasting time' on them. My academic record seemed to have no value either and college was an unattainable vague dream for which I was afraid to reach.  I also worried what would happen to the animals I had invested so much time and effort in if I left.  I wish someone had kicked my butt!! But that did not happen for four years and when it finally did, I did some of the kicking myself, that and life. And several 'angels' helped me.

All the critters I mention here were mules in various stages of training and Taffy was a newer one, very light, almost palomino. I am pretty sure I have no photo of her. Prez (Presidente)  and Annie had been with us awhile and were both good reliable animals and I rode both of them often, Stony was another trained one and was due to be sold not too long after this. 

My social life was absolutely nil. I still wrote pen pals some but now in lieu of school work I continued my hobbies of writing, sewing and designing clothes, which is what the "paper doll" thing was about. It was easier to visualize how a garment or outfit would look if I drew it out, colored it and then could actually hold it up on a doll to get the effect. I did this with most of the things I made for myself or others and experimented with ideas for various fancy western outfits, very ornate and almost garish at that time. Since it was edging into the hippie grannie and pioneer style period, I also modernized historical and frontier dresses and gowns for possible contemporary applications. I sometimes wish I had tried a career in this. 

The Capri pants I had made from stripped pillow ticking--vertical slimming stripes!!--and they fit rather tight.  The zipper finally began to tear or pull out. I think they zipped in back. As for LS, I think I mentioned him before a few weeks earlier. He was a weird dude who lived down the street for awhile and kind of stalked or harassed me. I called him "Larry Scary." Finally I complained to my Dad who observed some of the guy's behavior and read him the riot act. He and his wife moved not long after that. Good riddance; he was really creepy. 

The rest refers to the endless project of trying to either fix up the land we had bought south of Bridgeport or sell it and buy a 'real ranch' somewhere to manage our livestock business much better. Unfortunately that never worked out. There were times we were operating well below the poverty level when neither Dad's writing nor the sale of various animals made the ends meet.  It was often not very pretty.

The first picture is Prez and the second is him under saddle. The third is Annie but I cannot tell for sure if it is me or Mom holding her. This was above Mescal Canyon, one ridge south  from the highway up to Jerome. Since she did not ride a lot I think it is probably me.

Memoir Monday, Sept 20, 1961

Senior year, just coasting along in many respects. School was only the necessary hours each day plus the bus rides up to Jerome and back. The rest of each 24 allowed some meals and sleeping, occasional homework, plenty of cowboy girl chores and keeping track of my pen pals. 

Sep 20, 1961

Hello. Even today wasn’t a bad day, as days go, so I guess I’m lucky. After seeing quite a few proofs I’m still convinced mine are the best..(Senior pix) Anita’s are good (she called mine ‘suave’) Everyone  liked them though. I got away fairly early. The morning classes slipped by quickly. ‘Reen and I talked during noon as usual. We inked our abstract series. Miss Mahoney made me ruin my 4^th one. It was a pretty series of lines which I messed when I redid it adding solidness. 

I had my work cut out for me this afternoon. We had nearly all our stock in the dairy. Rounding up was a job but I  managed, with Dad’s shouted “encouragement”. I’m getting in the habit of letting evenings slip buy without my accomplishing anything. That will never do. 

I got a letter from Al. He said he thought we were “sincere, wonderful people,” and  he thought he was going to like it at Pollard’s. “Gone With the Wind" is on at the drive-in. I’d sell my saddle to go see it. Oh well, maybe I will get another chance sometime. If I was on ‘friendly’ terms with some certain characters…  Well, that’s it. I’ve got to say adios here.

I had been very unhappy with the regular school photos a couple of weeks earlier and did not buy a one but I had hopes the Senior photos would be somewhat better. I was actually delighted with mine, about the only time I really liked any of my photographs. I was often caught with my ugly glasses on and disliked how my two front teeth overlapped a bit and that was just part of the things I was displeased with. I often thought if I look like that I will just give up! But for once I could be happy. Today I still can appreciate although I looked so very young and innocent, almost unformed. In many ways I cannot identify with that girl at all. That was just one of the bright spots of my senior year and there were several more; in most ways it was my best year of school, high school for sure,  and my best year for much of my young adult life. 

My friend Maureen Jewell and I had art class together. The teacher, Miss Mahoney, was kind of an odd little person, apparently a single mom with a little boy who I think was named Max. I enjoyed the class but she gave us some weird projects at times, a few of which frustrated me. I recall this was a panel of four blocks with different type of lines and shapes, mostly done in black ink with a bit of color to highlight or elaborate. I used inks in yellow and a sort of magenta. I think I have it somewhere, probably in a large case or portfolio along with many other photos, posters etc. I admit--I kept way too much and still have an inordinate amount of souvenirs and junque!

We had an ongoing issue with many of the animals we had at the pasture,  or as Charley Bryant called it, the allotment (I think that is an old ranch/cowboy term for leased graze) getting into Tavasci's area right next door. The fence was not too bad but the cattle guard where the road crossed from one into the other was often filled in to where the dirt was almost level  with the rails. A canny mule would walk right across and many did. Tavascis  usually had a mare or two in their side and even though we had mares too, mules like to go follow or make up to mares. So off they went and we had to gather them and get them on our side. Yes, a frequent job for me. I would get torqued since Dad would be hollering directions at me but I was the one on one of the mares trying to collect the strays and drive them home. He might not see what I was seeing or agree with whatever I was doing and would yell and cuss for what he perceived as errors in my effort.  Almost the story of my life in those days. 

Al was Alfred Rydell, a pen pal who had been the Navy and just got out to go to work for Art Pollard, down at Sonoita in Santa Cruz County. Pollard had racing Quarter Horses. Al was a Texan and thought that would be cool. Turned out he did not stay long and ended up going back to the  Navy but at this point he had come to meet me briefly a couple of weeks before and returned a few days later driving one of the Pollard pickups for a short visit. I was iffy--was he Prince Charming or just another toad?   

As for "Gone With The Wind",  I did see the movie several times later on but at this point had only read the book a time or three. The family library had a hardback edition with still photos from the actual movie and I was enthralled, styled myself a modern day Scarlet O'Hara and thought Clark Gable was the epitome of cool. Had I gone to the drive in with one of my local "heroes," I would probably not have seen much of the movie. ;-) . But that was about as likely as the sun rising over Mingus the next morning. Date was a four letter word in my parents' rules and so I didn't.  

For spits and giggles,  a snapshot of Al with his sister's little boy and my senior portrait.  He as nice looking--about 6'2" or so with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile but actually really a stuffy sort of guy. After the visit I walked out to the truck with him and he shook hands in saying goodbye?!?

Memoir Monday, Sept 13, 1957

 Oh that was a trip!! I'll share a long ago "fun" day with all of you.

Sep 13, 1957

Here I sit on my frosh initiation day. Shaking so I can hardly write. Mercy me. See you later… I really look fit to kill-- I wore my short dress, one high and one low shoe, hair bow, baby doll etc. I went and rounded up Marty, Evelyn, Arlene and Vickie. Went up. At the first got marked with lipstick and had to crawl the length of the hall saying, “Hail almighty seniors.” Morning classes proceeded in a clumsy fashion. I got my hair starched and came home for lunch. Back up and the fun started. Frosh were divided into three teams. One member of each team was chained up and the others had to go to the ball field, the train depot and Crose’s to get the combinations for the locks. I was the one chained up for our team. Eddie Jacques was my ‘guard”. Arlene and some others came to talk to me. I was chained to the ‘hitching post’ but the senior girls made them leave. Jan came over some too. At last my teammates got back. Ed knew the combination and had already unlocked me but he with Jan’s help put it back so they could unlock it. Later I took a paper of Jan’s over to him. I washed up some with Tracy’s assistance and got my cake and punch. I watched them swim a bit. Tyce went in when he wasn’t supposed to as he had a cold and he had to get out again. He (Tyce) is great fun. He has a funny laugh and an infectious grin. He is also a good sport. Between Jan and Tyce I am really all shook up. Came home, showered and went over to the hospital to stay with Charlie Mike while Mom and Dad worked. By the way, we got $300 from good old Field and Stream. Tyce is not nearly as tall as I am but then neither was Jan last year. He is lots taller now. Dale is taller too but give Tyce time to grow.  As I said, blond, brown eyes and or brown haired boys just ‘send’ me. They are cool, man. I really was painted but most of it came off. All went well at the hospital. See you manana, Gaye

This one goes back a l-o-n-g way! Does anyone else remember their Freshman initiation at high school? Yes, I was pretty nervous and not ever being a fan of slapstick or practical jokes etc. dreaded it. It was mostly goofy but none of it was as bad as I had halfway feared.  There were not that many students because this was the year before Clarkdale and Cottonwood consolidated to become Mingus which three years later added the far eastern part of the county to become Mingus Union. It was just Clarkdale High and a rather small school. My freshman class totaled seventeen and there were only ten seniors! Our 'big' faculty totaled only ten including the principal, Mr Ensign.

At that time the seniors seemed so old and grown up! I was pretty intimidated. This was only my second year at a medium sized school after doing grades 2-7 in one room rural schools, Camp Wood where there were only eight kids in all 8 grades and Willard (Bridgeport) where the student body was about  twenty five. In both my father was the teacher.  I was in awe of Billie Jean Crose, Vincent Randall and the other 'BM/WOCs.' 

This was one day when my horse stuff did not have a big role. but Charlie Mike was still in the hospital with his broken leg. It was several more days before he could come home in a half body cast which he wore until close to Thanksgiving.

The prior spring I had a mild crush on Jan Nobles and this year very quickly added the new boy, Tyce Miller to my special faves. We never 'went steady' or anything, did not even hold hands in the hall and such (PDAs were seriously frowned on at that time!) but were a harrassing-each-other kind of couple. What else can you really do at the grand age of 14 or so--at least back then in the dark ages!? The girls I mentioned were generally a bit younger, 7th and 8th grade mostly, and my gal-pal group in lower town. 

No longer teaching, Dad was trying to write for a living and had a number of articles and stories in many outdoor magazines for awhile. Field and Stream and Sports Afield were probably the main ones. It was a rather feast or famine existence and that went on and worsened as the years passed from 1956 to 1966 when I finally left home for good. 

A few faces from that old yearbook--the last Hilltopper of Clarkdale High. Tyce, Jan, Dale (Evelyn's brother and my classmate), Evelyn and Arlene. We were all SOOOOO young!!!

Memoir Monday, Sept 6, 1961

 

Sep 6, 1961

Well day #2 of school has come and gone. Except for being rather boring, I don’t think school will be so bad this year. I may drop either chorus or journalism, but I don’t know. Oh, they took pictures today, which was a dirty cheat since they didn’t let us know beforehand. I tried as many of my ‘glamour’ tricks as I could remember, but I have a sneaky feeling that my picture is going to be lousy as usual. Maureen was back today and we talked all noon hour and still didn’t catch up on all the news. She’s my best friend in school with the possible exception of Evelyn. I helped E on her geometry this evening. I remember it pretty well—better than algebra anyway. I put in a busy afternoon, helped unload hay and then rode Tina out and led Donna back. Boy is she ever stubborn. The more I think of it, young George really does look like his dad. His hair grows the same way etc. If he’s seventeen I guess George Sr could be as young as 37 to 40--no matter.   I still haven’t seen Gug but that is just as well I’m sure. Gotta blow.

Just starting my final year of high school. I was both a bit cynical and somewhat laid-back in my approach to it. I had decided to be basically calm, cool and collected, no flaming love affairs, no overt rebellion, and simply treat it as a different sort of "job" but as significant as my cowboy girl gig. I was determined to keep a good grade average and maybe graduate with honors.

I'd been chatting mostly about mules off and on with an older guy who drove a big truck for CTI,  hauling materials down from the cement plant to be loaded on rail cars for shipment either to the CTI plant at Marana or the Glenn Canyon damsite. (The spur track up to the plant had not been built yet.) I'd learned his  name was George Evans--no big crush or anything but just a nice man I thought of as a friend. Imagine my surprise when his son of the same name cropped up in my class. Younger George was actually in my journalism class and maybe another one or two. Never got to know him well but he seemed nice. 

I was furious about the 'surprise' annual pictures but my senior pictures turned out far better than I had even dared to hope so I just didn't bother to buy any of the regular ones. As usual I looked dorky!

By now Evelyn Morales (nee Graves) was a sophomore and my friend from the previous year, Maureen Jewell,  was also. Evelyn was getting involved with Albert who she married a few years later but we still often walked to the bus stop together and at school I chummed around with Maureen with whom I had PE and Art Class. I had not seen much of her all summer so we had catching up to do. 

Of course the livestock work went on; there was never any real respite in that from late 1959 until I finally left home for college in 1966. From about 1957-59 they grew a bit but the big change came with the arrival of the first of the mule year bunches in August of 1959. Tina was still my top favorite and stayed so until her sad death in March 1966. She was such an exceptional mare. Donna was one of the newer mules, a hard headed and not-easily trained one!

Gug was still my nemesis. A bit later he got a DWI  ticket and lost his licence so had to quit his job at the propane company. After which I saw very little of him and called it no loss. By then the stupid infatuation had died to ashes and good riddance. Not one of my finer efforts, that. But we all have to be young and stupid at times, no? 

Two photos just for 'tax' LOL. The first is either Dyna(mite) or Donna. They looked very much alike, short legged and stocky built, a light almost buckskin color. Neither one was any good in the long run! The next is with Tina out in the hills east of the river. That was some rough country as the eroded and weathered limestone was very ragged and harsh. If you rode there you needed your mount to have good shoes or it wore their feet sore in no time. And a rider needed heavy chaps to turn those thorns like the ocotillo in the foreground. Not sure what the work was that day--maybe helping Charley Bryant find someone's stray cattle.