Memoir Monday, July 29, 1966

This July was not a hard one to say goodbye to.  It had been a bad roller-coaster ride going from almost level to way, way down... Although I was not keeping a diary or a journal, I did write notes off and on and squirreled the pages away among my paper dolls and dress designs which I was sure were safe from snooping. Once I had a new notebook safely stashed as I mentioned earlier,  I copied most of them into it and then went on as August began. I'll grab a few clips here and there and insert them in italics, some times with a date connected. 

        July 20: At least two small bits of knowledge lighten my heart. One is to know for sure tt was not my letter that brought Dusty on June 16. That one, misaddressed, came back to me finally. An answer to the re-sent letter has not come but that was because he was in the hospital. I learned yesterday he had been in LA in the hospital for about three weeks, Unfortunately that re-sent letter was probably intercepted by Blair, next down the seniority roster, who filled  in as foreman for B&B 6.That was not good, not at all... 

      July 24: Yesterday the local was late, We went over in the twilight to see it leave. Waited in the caboose while while the units (2201-2202) went up to the plant. It was dark but I felt perfectly at home. Makes you wonder about reincarnation, predestination etc. I love trains, CDW notwithstanding. Lantz (the station agent) seems to take us for granted. As if we had a right to hang around...

     It  has been a busy week but the nicest I've had for a long while. I feel so much freer without the pressure, upsets, intolerance, lectures, blow-ups  ad nauseum. Unless things change drastically I really can't stay on here after dad gets back, no matter what. But I shall do my best until then. One day at a time...

I did not specify exactly when but the Boss (aka dad) was gone for awhile. I'm sure he was over in the VA Hospital at Whipple. He was a hypochondriac, but really did have recurring problems with rectal-intestinal polyps. Of course they were always surely deadly cancer so we must all be very worried... I think it was a week or more this time and he did have surgery but never a colostomy or anything that major. While he was gone, Mom never told me anything to do or not do and the livestock management was totally left up to me. By now Charlie  Mike worked with me like a true partner or helper. I counted on him without question. I have no memory of exactly when or how but one of the last jack burros died about this time. Pepper was  such a mean and cantankerous son, I did not grieve. I think Charley Bryant helped me drag him up to the bone yard out at the pasture.

     July 26: We went to Prescott today and brought the Boss home. No upsets so far--even about the scratched door or Pepper's death.  Que milagrosa! Alex and I walked down to the depot and I got numbers on Gordon's B&B 3 and a yard full of freight cars. (Charlie Mike had collected can numbers almost forever.) Wonder if #6 has its regular foreman back yet? Maybe we'll see Earl or Thursday; Charlie Mike did not today.

     July 29: #6 doesn't and we didn't  I also got a very short scribbled note someone apparent mailed  for Dusty --postmark blurred. but his writing.  "Please do not write again for a long while."   I thought a sharp oops then and knew I would not. It hit me that Blair had probably gotten that last letter, maybe even read it--quite unethically!  Kind of oh crap. My $45 is in the bank and I now have $4.60 in change having bought this book, The rest is in 'cold storage' with no one knowing of it

I have no idea now where it came from but I had recently received $50, probably from my aunts, after they heard the college plans were at least initiated. They helped me pay PO box rent and urged I maintain a checking account. {An aside: Recently I have heard women could not do that alone until early 1970s but I had opened this one on my own back in the fall of 1965 when I was only 22 and definitely had no person cosign or authorize it. FWIW, eh? So there were exceptions for sure. Also the PO box was solely my effort and I obtained and paid.}

Well enough catch up here. By August there were journal entries again though not quite every day. Once more it was a roller coaster ride but there were starting to be a few actual highs and the lows were not quite rock bottom...

Pictures! To support my train fascination here are a couple of locomotives I pictured a bit later in Flagstaff. The two I mentioned above would have been similar but I think these were newer versions of the EMD "Geeps"(General Purpose). The ones in Clarkdale were GP-9s. The last is from my collection (not my shot) and shows the old 'zebra-stripe'  paint job once used on ATSF freight locos. before they adopted the blue and yellow. It is a flat nose GP-9; some were and some not.

Memoir Monday, July 22, 1966

 For Monday, July 22,1966

I know I have mentioned a time or two about small hints that things were gradually starting to change. I may have hopscotched a block or two when they did not fall on a date I covered  prior to the June exodus so here I'll summarize with some backtracks.

It was probably April or maybe early May when I went to one of the Family/Mental Health clinic interviews, probably pretty upset over the horse sicknesses and all. Anyway, Mr Peckham, the counselor, told me to call Mrs. Fitzgerald. A day or two later, I did. I have no memory of what was said but I believe she sounded me out on whether I really would like to go to college, mentioned it could still be possible. I said, "Yes," emphatically. I know there may have been some room for doubt since I had abandoned my scholarships fairly firmly after I graduated, though I did not promptly get married as the salutatorian did or go in the military. As I've already said, the forfeiture was done under pressure of the enmeshed family situation, my huge lack of confidence and my devotion to the critters, Now there was no question with too much handwriting on the wall.

I am not sure how Mr Peckham and Mrs Fitzgerald were acquainted but since she was the counselor at Mingus, it was not very peculiar. To backtrack a little, I always liked and admired her. She was my PE teacher my last two years and as counselor had talked with me quite a bit on grades, college plans and similar things,. I felt she cared about me as a person and a student and was probably concerned about my future. I had to look it up in my final yearbook--what was her first name? She was just Mrs Fitzgerald to me. It was Elizabeth. Anyway, I was glad to have her on "my team."

Actually little was done that I knew of until early to mid August but I am sure now a number of people were at least slightly involved from the git-go in what became a 'project' to get Margaret (Gaye) Morgan into college albeit belatedly. I know several of my former teachers put in a good word or two. Dr Joseph Pecharich, a family friend and our dentist, Dr Joseph Hudson over at the VA hospital and goodness knows who else had a small hand in it. As soon as I mentioned the possibility, my three aunts in California, all teachers/ administrators, also played a part. Aunt Ruth had done some summer classes  at NAU while it was still ASC and had been to UofA for seminars etc. so she had some pertinent contacts. 

There at the end of July I had only the slightest glimmer of hope this might actually happen. I truly did not dare to believe it was possible, much less that events would actually unfold as they did. In retrospect today, I can only most gratefully say "Thank You!"  to the Powers- that-Be, which I now name The Sourced and The Force, and to my guardian angel who worked behind the scenes through a number of good people to make this happen for me. In some ways. I still paid a further price and had to 'sacrifice' for this boon but I now call them offered willingly. It was meant to happen, just as it did. 

A few photos for 'tax'. First most of my Mingus senior year faculty including Mrs Fitzgerald, then the  cowboy girl as she worked those four long years and finally the  "sweet" girl graduate who had her brief moment of fame as Mingus's class of 62 valedictorian. So young and naive that day.  

Memoir Monday, July 15, 1966

For Monday, July 15, 1966--Interim Events

This didn't happen on the actual date but is relevant and kind of a fill-in on the time when no journal was kept. I know I had mentioned Dusty being ill before so I will pick up some more on that situation. I was expecting a letter after his surprise visit in June but one never came. I did not believe he had abandoned me but I did get worried. I was stumbling along after I made it through the betrayals and staggered on through the rest of that summer. It was awhile l before I found out what the cause of the silence was.  This is mostly extracted from my book-length memoir.

I had expected a letter not too long after the mid-June surprise visit, but one never came. I worried and fretted but could not believe he had abandoned me. It was awhile before I learned why. On July 20, Charlie Mike and I talked to Earl Ragsdale and learned that B&B 6 had a temporary foreman because Mr Watt was in the Coast Lines Hospital in Los Angeles. He had apparently collapsed on the job and been rushed out there, a very sick man. I do not think the borderline pneumonia had ever gone away and the combined stresses of some problems on the job, the situation with Johnny and worry about me triggered a very severe asthma attack. He was in the hospital for the better part of a month.

The same day, I had lost my gold chain bracelet. I am not sure if it broke or somehow came off but it was lost and I never found it again. This was traumatic to me because I had known I should take it off and put it away but I could not bear to. It had been on my right wrist constantly since Dusty put it there the morning of December 1. I finally said it was not truly gone because I could still ‘feel’ it there but it was now invisible.

Charlie Mike and I really appreciated Earl Ragsdale. He was the local track inspector who took a motor car over the whole route before the Local came in each time to ensure the track was safe. He was an older fellow and we'd made friends with him earlier that summer. He was a good source of the latest news and often gossip for that part of the Winslow division of ATSF be it the train crews, maintenance of way or others associated with the railroad in whatever way. He knew "Mr Watt", as he spoke of Dusty, clearly with respect and regard, was a friend of ours though perhaps not why, how or to what degree. Still I blessed him for giving us this information. I realized there was probably no way I could safely communicate with Dusty under the circumstances so all I could do was hope and pray and wait. Those several weeks were interminable and there were few bright spots to see me through although some progress toward my getting to go to college that fall was starting to take shape. I dared not really hope and certainly not to count on it but positive little hints and glimpses sustained me. 

Few relevant photos but here is what I can offer.: First is the bracelet--it is the one on the right.  In making jewelry while in Alamogordo I got some chains mostly for pendants and one day thought of that long lost bracelet.  I had a brief flash of a delicate gold chain that somehow reminded me of a watch chain but much more fine and fragile. Voila--there was a chain somewhat similar so I made it. I do wear it off and on but not all the time.  Next is the Santa Fe Coast Lines Hospital in Los Angeles. The Railroad sold it in the 90s when more employees then used the mandated insurance instead,  but this is how it looked. I can visualize Dusty in one of those rooms while he was dosed with antibiotics and asthma meds until he recovered. The last is a summer scene taken by my friend July Carter with one of her windmills but those dark clouds seemed to represent the dark days I was living through that summer. But was there a bit of light reflected from a tenuous hope? 

Memoir Monday, July 8, 1966

July 8+1 1966 

This actually happened on July 9, 1966 but in the absence of anything for the proper day, here it is. This was kind of fun! We had gone to the Appaloosa Show in Flagstaff that weekend, which was for both business and pleasure. Few of the names mean anything to me now but I do remember the incident well. It was early afternoon, broken clouds but no storms close, and pretty hot. The mare was one of the 'roany looking' Appaloosa type, red and white in a "merle" blend (to misuse a herding dog term) that looked almost wine or muted dark red. I do not recall her being unduly spirited or difficult; in fact she did very well. No idea why no one else would ride her. I had never formally ridden in a show of this level before but had watched this class often. Doing it out in 'Big World' public' was something else so placing was a huge surprise! I had never been near that mare before I approached and mounted her. She accepted me, apparently knowing I was a horse person.

BTW I wrote this originally on a plain sheet of paper, not in a journal, and later copied it into a steno notebook I began to use shortly as I think I mentioned last time.  

July 9, 1966

Well, I've done it--I rode in a show and placed, even. I rode Mr Cochran’s mare Greola D in the Trail Class. It was quite sudden and a surprise, so much so that I hardly had time to be scared. I goofed up badly on the gate but still got a 6^th place beating Claire Johnson, Betsy Wallbridge, etc. There were about sixteen entries in the class. I wore my Wrangler tans, my 'circle-cross' shirt and used Betty Parish’s  saddle and chaps. I was really surprised that I placed. Long ago I wrote a poem, My First Ribbon”. I’ll have to see how closely it fits! Only of course I didn’t get it for it is the horse’s possession  or the owners, actually.  The horses, not the riders per se were judged. But no one else wanted to ride the mare--not sure why--so I did. I may ride her again in Western Pleasure tomorrow   But we did not ago back the next day, it seems.

I cannot recall if anything was ever said after the day. No surprise, really. It was a validation for me, anyway. The mare had never seen me before yet she accepted me without hesitation. I recognized then that I really was a horsewoman and a trainer, because I was able to be calm and confident. She had done the course before and only needed minimal cues but paid attention to me as her rider. and I did not mess her up. 

Actually this was the last chance I had to do something like this. Sixty days saw me ending that opportunity forever due to fate and a choice I had no options but to make. That life would have been cut off within just over a year anyway, although I did not know either of those future outcomes on this day. Regrets? Some, but mostly over the fact  so much was beyond my control. I had came to a fork where only one direction was possible. Beware of what you wish for? There is much I still and will always miss  but I have to trust everything happened as it was somehow meant to to bring me to where I sit today. I can cherish many good memories to veil over and temper the bad. 

Pictures:  The first shows colors and patterns of Appaloosas. The mare  was similar to the second in top row although more red. Our stallion, Yavapai Chief, was the 4th there, classic chestnut blanket. Then there is a scrap of the red plaid fabric from which I had made matching shirts for Dusty and me. I was wearing mine that day. Sadly I never got a photo of it. And lastly my verse; not quite what happened but an odd coincidence!

My First Ribbon

There it hangs in all its glory-- 

Would you like to hear the story?

It’s not a red, much less a blue,

But I’m real proud, I’m telling you 

Of that green ribbon, new and bright

That I won one long-passed  night.

It was just a little show,

But the judge was hard, you know.

He was watching everything

When we rode around the ring;

He looked at me with narrow eyes

So it was a great surprise

When I heard them call my name.

I walked on clouds as out I came

To get that old green ribbon there,

At the horse show, at the fair.

My old pony looked so proud

Standing there before the crowd

With that ribbon by his ear

Gently fluttering, bright and clear.

Someday perhaps we’ll win a blue

Or even a silver trophy, too,

But none of them can ever mean      

More than that little bow of green.

GM, 1963