The momentuous year of 1964 was nearing its end even as 2022 is today. Life was so complicated for me at that point. This was before Dusty's existence and presence in my life became a major family issue --I think for the time being they assumed he was gone, out of sight and mind, and I'd soon find a new crush as I had for many years. But this was so very different. Oh, the family rows would shake me up for a time and the enmeshment issues would jumble my private thoughts and assurances for a few days yet I always went back to being and thinking mostly "me" for the most part.
Dec 5, 1964
I got up at 7:00 or so and did the chores. We weren’t in a great hurry today, The folks went up to get mail and groceries and Charlie Mike and I got the truck ready to roll. I got a letter from Baird, a reply to my long letter, which I read and reread over and over again. It was a very kind, touching and understanding letter. He said it would be best to let Dusty go; yes, that is basically true and I’ve known it all along but actually doing it is something else again. Not sure how to respond. So we went to the pasture and did those chores and then went on to Camp Verde. That old Gemlin is a fink. He made us weigh the truck and then gave us all the moldy bales he could find. We felt like throwing a fit but couldn’t then. He doesn’t know what he is in for, though. Got home about 12:30. The folks took Alex to the parade while Charlie Mike and I unloaded the hay. That was a brutal chore and I was exhausted when we were through. We had to cut some wood and then did the evening chores, getting done early for a change. Then I wrote a letter to Dusty, the rough draft. I will wait for the reply to my last two before I finish and mail it. I am going on the theory that if you ask for the best in people, you will get it. I shall see if that works. So far he has never failed or disappointed me and I don’t think that he will now either. I am going to chance it, anyway. This is as close as I can come to doing the “right” thing. Then we got into a large family row and it was a doozy. But perhaps something was accomplished. I was all ready to take off and leave this very afternoon but I can never do that. So unless I find someone who will fit in, I shall be waiting forever. I do not know if they could ever accept Dusty for that matter. Norm? Possibly, maybe even probably--if I can. That no doubt remains to be seen. I love Dusty sincerely but perhaps I am too complex a person to belong wholly to any one. I certainly feel a real affection for LBC (Baird) and a considerable liking for Norm too. No, I am in no hurry. That is best beyond a doubt. Tomorrow I may go to Maureen’s and must write at least a note to Baird. It is now 1:00 am and I truly must be off to bed.
All the usual 'stuff' went on of course. I had eight or more hours nearly every day of work that had to be accomplished. Though in school, Charlie Mike worked right with me all the free time he had. Getting hay at affordable prices was a big and constant concern. I despised this man in Camp Verde and considered him a nasty, chisling old codger, which he was, but there were not that many small farms selling hay as winter approached. Beggars could not always be choosers. I agonized over feeding inferior fodder so many times.
On December 3 I had gotten a second letter from Dusty, this one signed "All my Love, Dusty. It was the first time he used the L word and I was elated but also still a bit troubled, especially with the matter of Baird and Norm still "in the running" so to speak. The awareness that I really could not in clear conscience simply walk away from the folks and all the agonizing troubles sat heavy on my mind and heart. The eldest daughter's need to do what was right and required was an exacting master.
Exactly what I said to Dusty I cannot recall but I was not willing to go anywhere close to a dear John letter. Yes, the fact he was still legally married weighed heavily but I did not feel I was becoming a home wrecker or really doing wrong to care for him. The strict and unbending standards I had been hammered with for twenty one years would not release their influence yet but more and more I saw the fallacies and disconnects in what I was told to believe and do and what I saw happening everywhere I looked. My Dad had double standards out the gazoo! (Sadly both Charlie Mike and I find so many uncomfortable parallels in his behavior and that of certain political figures today.)
Photos that fit this time are scarce. I will see if I can find something not yet used more than once! Okay so Charlie Mike gets featured this time. He was my right hand helper and for a kid just 13 or so was responsible and worked very hard. Lord knows I appreciated all he did. His aid let me survive. The first one is with a donkey foal and probably in January 1964. The next he is holding Buzzie, my little sorrel QH mare with our big stock and hay truck in the background, probably '64 also. Then he is posed with the puppy we named Ringo--actually always his dog--but with the family until the early fall of 1967. I would guess this was maybe '63 --not sure. Looking back, this poor kid was almost treated like a step child from about the time he got over the broken leg until he left home years later. I do not understand why at all. We both endured a lot but I know now he more than me in many ways. Thus the ragged and outgrown clothes etc. No wonder he is bitter today, but not at me, for which I am very thankful.
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