The fall of my senior year. I was half past eighteen now and for the most part pretty serious and practical. I still had my pen pals but otherwise social life was a flat zip. School was a respite of sorts most of the time and with Maureen Jewell for my school BFF at that time, it was mostly pleasant enough. No difficult classes and most of the guys I had been bullied by were gone.
Nov 8, 1961 Wed
I woke up early with the curse, worse luck. I took my pills though and went primly off to school trying not to show my misery. The day passed rather rapidly, thank God. ‘Reen and I ate in the gym and watched a wrestling match at noon. I even got a seat only four back in the bus; luck was with me. No mail. Charlie Mike and I did the chores here and then we drove out to the pasture. The witch tree is gone—not a trace of it left. ‘Reen of course was very sympathetic when she heard of my troubles. Tomorrow I mustn’t forget that I have a mare for sale. I played cards with Charlie Mike. He taught me how to play casino and then I wrote a letter to Shirley C. And so ends another day. I’m not in much misery actually now. Its raining and I should … I guess I’ll get another vacation on Friday to go hunting. Shall I be glad or sad? I wrote a rather screwy letter to Wayne. I think I should try to get rid of him but I really don’t want to. How about HJ (Jose Cazador) He promised me a long letter. Maybe I’ll remind him. The other day I concluded that I wanted to remain a "little girl" for a bit longer. Hasta!
I suffered from severe monthly cramps from my early teens on. I later found out I had very bad endometriosis and a few other problems but at this stage I just knew I'd be miserable for about 24 hours every 26-28 days or so. I never wanted not to be female but it was a burden, especially when I needed to be active and busy every day regardless. I hated to ride near the back of the school bus--the only time I would get semi-carsick as the big old vehicle wig-wagged down the curvy road from Jerome to Clarkdale. Going up was not as bad.
The "witch tree" was a smaller mesquite that sat near the middle of one of the big pens at the pasture. We often had a jack burro chained to it. They had to be kept apart so as not to fight and also away from the mares or jennys in season. After a second animal died there in tragic accidents, Dad took a chain saw to it and cut it off at the ground. I had found one jack dead there the evening before; he got tangled in the chain and apparently had a hassle with a mustang gelding we had. Chili was one we all liked and kind of a favorite, and a mule colt he had sired died there the past June. It was a cursed tree.
I was rather cynical much of the time, and at least somber; not despondent but not often super happy. I'm not sure what triggered the "little girl" notion but I did have a slight Peter Pan complex off and on. Was "growing up" all it was cracked up to be? Likely not... "It's raining and I should? " Not sure what thought I never finished there! Maybe interrupted...
I really do not have good photos of Chili the burro or Sugarfoot the mule colt and I've featured Wayne and Jose in photos before. But did find one--this is Chili--he was a paint--and I was holding Tina. Lady II in the trailer was the one who had the mule colt he sired. She had lost colts before; just a bad luck mare. Not long afterwards, I sold her to Maureen who had her until she died, probably at about age 18-20.
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