Memoir Monday, April 12, 1958, 1960

Both of these entries were kind of blah so I will just stuck in two.  Not many applicable photos either. Is this project getting too b-o-r-i-n-g??? I can always stop. LOL. But how else could I invent something to post every week?  So we'll see. There are a few days in May I want to cover anyway. 

April 12, 1958 Sat

Got up about 8:00. Did the chores. Ate. Cleaned the corrals. The weather is lovely today. Went uptown and mailed some things. Came home. Ate lunch. My feet are killing me. Tina stepped on one and the other has a blister. Wrote some letters etc. Sat out in the sun some. Bill C and his mother drove by and he nearly fainted when he saw me “smoking” a rolled up gum wrapper! Rode Tina some.  Law me, I love her. She doesn’t run, she flies—floats. Did the chores, ate, messed around. Drew a picture. Adios manana, Gaye

April 12, 1960 Tues

Today wasn’t exactly a pleasant day but like most it had its nice parts if you cared to look for them. It was cloudy and rained a good deal of the time. We managed to make two trips to the pasture, do the usual chores here and tack front shoes on Frizzie. I walked uptown in the rain to go to the PO and the library. I got part 2 of The Tewksbury Feud. Charlie Mike and I are both reading it.  “Breed” Tewksbury is the hero, a big man, one of those sober, quiet, deceptively gentle and slow moving men. Went to watch The Rifleman. It was rather exciting tonight. Luke is one of those big gentle guys too. I go for that kind that talks quiet and moves easy until trouble hits and then really cuts loose. Maybe I will find a real one someday but I’d better be prepared to settle for less or I’ll end up an old maid. Oh well, I can be like Edna Ferber. I guess she never married and doesn’t seem to mind. If I can’t have the best then I’ll take zero. Adios. Gaye

Not too exciting in either case but these narratives both give a glimpse into my life and what was going on in it so very long ago.  Looking back on the first, I guess I can see why I have a very mangled and tender left foot now and the right one little better. I never wore pointy-toed high heels much so I cannot blame my bunions and twisted toes on that. Horses stepping on me? More likely since that happened many times!

I have to laugh about the one little vignette. It is still clear in  my memory.  I was sprawled on an old rusty cot, the style with the mesh hung on springs style of support. It was against the far west wall of the second house we used for an office/workshop and storage there in Clarkdale, thus out of sight of the 'home' house. No one in the family smoked so I had a little curiosity about it, and feeling silly, I  rolled an empty gum wrapper into a cylinder and pretended to hold it in a sophisticated way and 'puff' on it. Bill Christenson  was a freshman classmate at Clarkdale High. I can still see the total shock on his face when he saw me--timid little goodie-two-shoes "Margaret" (I went by that instead of Gaye for the first three years I was in school at Clarkdale)-- "smoking" right out there in broad daylight! I almost rolled off that cot laughing. He never mentioned it though I slightly feared he might!

I was head over heels in love with my mare right then. By this point she was three years old and pretty well saddle broke. Most of the time I rode her by myself and she handled well. Once in awhile she would be a bit feisty and scare me. She was a tall mare, a bit over 16 hands (a hand is 4" and a measurement used on horses that denotes the height at the withers, that crest in the spine between the body and neck, analagous to the little bump we have there.)  I was my full height then but still had to scramble a bit to mount her and it was a long way to fall if I were to do that... I wasn't the fully proficient rider and trainer yet; that took a bit more time and practice. 

By 1960 I was nearly there. I took my turn riding many of the mules we had acquired which  I was helping to train and finish so they might be sold. Frizzie was a  bay, a tall lanky female mule who was sold somewhat later. She had come in the first batch we got the previous August. She became  sore footed fairly quickly when ridden so we kept her shod. She was good about the process anyway, thank goodness. Front feet were very easy but she did not kick a lot either. That is a big plus for a mule! 

The Tewksbury Feud was a western novel serialized in the Saturday Evening Post. Many magazines did that then, most tales condensed a bit but not to the degree Readers' Digest excerpt books did. I found many good authors that way. This one was written by an Arizona writer, Jeannie Williams, who I think was related to "One Eyed Jack", a one time governor of the state.  I encountered her later and read that book in paperback as well as some other titles she wrote. Charlie Mike was nine in 1960 and read well, just as I always had. He liked cowboy tales and stories of adventure, sports and danger. There was plenty of action in this yarn about the Pleasant Valley War, a range feud in the Tonto Basin back in the late 1800s. I liked the romance part of the plot but there was much else happening also.

I had begun to think finding the cowboy of my dreams was a long shot since I was not turning up many prospects and most of the guys I saw were clearly not long term material. This was the year I was out of school and lacking any hint of a social life. The idea of being an old maid--perhaps a school teacher like Miss Rayle who I'd idolized or one of the authors I read--did have some appeal. I could be free and independent, 'doing my own thing' as a kind of literary cowboy girl-blue stocking! In many ways that almost came to pass. I was 28 when I finally got married, an event that happened rather suddenly and much to my surprise, really. At the lofty age of 17, I had no clue!

Three shots of me with Tina in various situations--she might not have been a sleek beautiful pure bred but her spirit and our bond were special enough to overcome any other lack.  And last a shot of me at about that time, probably in 1958. I loved that jumper. It was corduroy and an odd shade of green that somehow was still pretty although that was not a favorite color. 

Memoir Monday, April 5, 1962

 April 5, 1962 Thurs

Up at 5:00 tonight (it seemed like nite!) I ate, dressed and was off.  The day up at Flagstaff was not too hot but it was worth getting out of a day of school I guess. I heard Suzie Pratt and Anita’s solos. They both did well. I guess the “All American Glee Club”  did okay. I spent some time uptown with Anita, Claudia Taylor and Diane VanCleave. I didn’t buy anything but I wanted to some. It was good to get home though. I almost hate to go back tomorrow. They say “Mr Rosie” arrived today and La Arabie is prettier than ever and learning fast. I got no mail—isn’t that insulting? I guess nobody loves me any more. Cuss them.  Of course I haven’t written any letters lately…  But by next weekend I’ll have my term paper done and then I can catch up on my correspondence. Sunday I must study my civics and read Macbeth. Damme—there is too much to do. Will I ever make it to graduation? As of right now I doubt it, but the race ain’t over. I keep thinking today is Sat but it's not. Well, I’ll hope to have a cool time tomorrow.

Ah, the spring of my senior year, the last few weeks of school. I was eager to get it over but also a bit of sadness was starting knowing commencement was often more of an end than a beginning. For me that was especially true. I had a four year detour in my life with some good but also many very rough and hard times.

So to pick up on what was going on. That year I took music and was in the Girls Glee club chorus taught and directed by John Doubek. I was no great singer but could learn and do the second soprano parts that I was performing.  I did not quite have the range to sing like some of the female opera singers I admired or even Anita Schwartz who was a good soprano. My voice was not deep or strong enough for alto but not quite high enough for regular soprano. Okay--sing harmony.  The whole music department of Mingus,both band and choral, went to the big music festival at NAU, then Arizona State College. Suzie Pratt played the trumpet or cornet and was very good. Our chorus did "The Whiffenpoof Song" and lost points since the judges said it should be male voices. Shrug!! We went back again on Friday the 6th also when the awards were given etc.  

I was still much into the pen pal efforts and always eager to open the post office box and see what was there for me. However, at this time I was working hard on the first of two term papers Jim McLarney had assigned us seniors so was behind on writing letters.  I did the first paper on Byron, Keats and Shelley since I was a big lover of poetry and their lives and styles were so different although they were essentially contemporaries. The weeks leading up to the final big day were packed with work and things to do. I did manage to get it all done but there were times I had doubts!

Anita Schwartz was kind of a friend. She was much into music and drama and even competed in the Miss Yavapai contest that spring. I had expected to be vying with her for the top spot in the Class of 1962 but it ended up being a transfer student, Judy Jaynes.  Suzie Pratt came from the Sedona area and was kind of a jovial, fun sort of girl and a very talented musician. . 

I also had lots of life outside of school  since my cowboy girl stuff was still basically 24/7/365. We had bought and trained a smaller red mule named Rosie the past year. A guy come over from California to ride and then buy her.  He was a geek and I did not like him at all so he became "Mr Rosie" to me rather than a name--which I do not clearly remember anyway. Guy? Gary? Gene? Shrug!! No le hace!! La Arabie was a reference to a new mare we'd just acquired. She was silver-white and looked Arabian. We shortly named her Cleopatra or Patsy for short. She was not broke but was fairly docile.  Always pretty, she later had two nice colts. 

Odd photos:  The mare Patsy--probably not too long before foaling. Anita Schwartz spring 1962.   Gaye with her "dressed up Cowboy Girl" look. I had made the shirt and liked the style and how it fit. I took a men's pattern and altered it for my versions. The Morgan kids: Gaye, Alex and Charlie-Mike. I would be about 19 so Charlie was 11 and Alex was 4. Not dressed up there but in chore clothes. Charlie and Alex were both growing like weeds and usually had high water pants! I'd probably already shrunk a tiny bit from my tallest of 5'7 3/4"

Memoir Monday, March 29, 1959

 

March 29 , 1959  Sun

Got up early of course to get our Easter stuff out. Went out to Ray's to feed the critters. Stella is going to be more of a pet than Lil and Lou were. We actually caught Dinah. I sawed wood and worked a lot. I just felt restless. I reckon I am going to be the world’s biggest cynic. We cooked steaks down in the canyon. I had the most fun after supper reading poems etc. Dad asked me if I had one about Buster. Oh golly! I had to read it but I about died. By the way, Dale Robertson’s big horse looks like Rusty. Darn, I don’t want to go back to school tomorrow. Adios, Gaye

Back in the Dark Ages here --long ago and far away. I was almost sixteen and Charlie Mike was seven and a half. Alex was two months away from being born.  By this point I was taking on most of the holiday stuff having surrendered any pretense that Santa, the Bunny etc were 'real' but hoping the kids could have that fun for awhile. So I had colored eggs and put some treats in a basket for Charlie Mike to find. Mom may have helped--or not. 

We had sold the five miles I mentioned in earlier posts two weeks prior and had acquired two big sorrel Tennessee Walkers in part payment for the time we  had fed the five sold ones before they were picked up. I can't remember if the horses were already named or we did it but the two were Rusty and Tall Gal. We still had mules Stella and Dinah (Dynamite) and the mares Tina and Lady II plus the new mare and gelding. They were pastured out along the airport road at a PD property where Milt Ray was the caretaker so I called it Ray's. Buster was the foreman for the chap who had bought the mules, one good looking cowboy on whom I had gotten a large crush! And yes, I honored him with a couple of poems. Maybe I can find one.  (The original is longer, about 24 lines but this is the first stanza.)

The Throwback

Shoulders squared, you turn to meet life

Whatever they hand out, you'll take it .

Saddle in hand, spurs on your heels

Whatever they lead out, you'll break it. 

Face stern yet calm, eyes unafraid

Whatever may happen you'll face it..

Rope spinning high, horse on the run.

Whatever may take off, you'll chase it. 

The steaks were probably deer meat. That was our main staple for several years there and cooked outside they were a treat.  When you 'ranch' horses, mules and burros you do not have critters to butcher and eat! And what I meant by the 'cynic' remark I no longer recall but yes, I was getting much less prone to taking anything at face value and seeing only the good; I had learned not to trust too much--sometimes not any at all. 

I cannot recall Dale Robertson's series but it was a western although one I did not follow much. Still I had probably written and gotten a 'fan' photo and the horse was a big sorrel or chestnut with tall white socks and probably a blaze face. 

So the photos. The first is definitely Dinah. For some reason I was not happy; not sure why but that happened often enough. The second shot, I may have been riding Stella--not sure. So many of he smaller mules looked very similar! It is Louie's head anyway on the left. And the third is the deer I had shot in the fall 1958 hunting season so those steaks may have come from it. 

Memoir Monday, March 22, 1961

 March 22, 1961  Thursday

It started out to be a perfectly lovely day so I wore my peasant blouse and a full skirt. School went by quickly. I gave my book report in English and got a ‘one’ on it (as I expected) (Dig my conceit.) I didn’t feel so hot this afternoon. Maybe I am getting this flu. I played volleyball without much interest. Maureen and I rode the Bluebird down as usual. I got letters from Wayne, Shane, Jerry and Judy G. Wayne’s was on the bottom but I knew it would be there. My cards told me last night. Out to the pasture as usual but tonight I rode Stella home. I was really feeling kind of sick by then. Dad and I had a little set-to about catching Chip which did not help me much. I did the chores, came in, and played cards with Charlie Mike. Dad and I got our little argument settled. Wayne says he might come down muy pronto. I hope he will but I am afraid too. Oh well, he ain’t here yet. I kind of laid around all evening and didn’t study a bit. See ya tomorrow, “Doll”

Back in school for the spring term of my junior year. I was still not totally happy with it but in a way found myself between a rock and a hard place. It was either work very much full time as I had done most of the previous year or go to school--and still have quite a bit of work to do also.  I did know I would need that diploma to ever do anything with my life except fall into an ultimately miserable marriage to one of those "young and restless" guys I flirted with. That was fire from frying pan, I  knew. 

I'm trying to remember what peasant blouse that was. I loved the style and eventually made a number of them but I do not think I had yet gotten the pattern from a penpal friend in California. So I am drawing a blank--I don't remember ever getting one as a gift or buying one. It wasn't the sort of style Grandma Witt would have made. Full skirts she did make, often pleated and sometimes gathered. At that stage I loved full skirts and really did not like narrow or straight ones. I had my own ideas of style and what was 'cool' to me. And by this point, I had made several tiered full skirts--the 'squaw skirt' style--before that term became politically incorrect.  I guess we'll call them square dance style instead. Three tiers, and usually lots of ric rac or trim to add some flash. 

Pen pals were my main substitute for social life.  At that time Wayne, the Washington state rodeo cowboy, was my favorite of the several guys I was writing. "Doll" was his nickname for me which I thought was neat. Jerry was a neighbor of my grandparents in Kentucky and we corresponded for a bit. Shane was a bit older and had epilepsy or muscular dystrophy or something, basically disabled but a huge fan of 'fast draw' and western stuff.  I had several friends named Judy over the years--not sure who Judy G was. It was Judy C from whom I got the peasant blouse pattern. 

I played at fortune telling with a deck of playing cards and cannot now remember the pattern that would indicate yes or no etc. Was it colors, suits or specific cards?  So long ago--memory is hazy! Anyway I had an evening ritual of asking a few questions and 'predicting' what would happen. Probably it was wrong as often as right!

Disagreements with my dad were common. He was always on my case about how I was doing some of the chores and working with various horses and mules. He'd bawl me out; I'd get mad and sulky and do what I was ordered to but with ill grace. I was not always convinced his way was the best or right one! At that point I would usually apologize or make nice later though. After a few more months and years, that got much harder to do and did not always happen. He was not an easy boss to work for. 

A few photos; First is me holding two of the mules, Mindy on my rightr and Annie on my left. roughly the same time as this entry, Second is a shot from a play put on at Mingus--either '61 or '62. Anita Schwartz with Bennie Lovell and Jon Sollenberger. Third is Judy C (Couch) with a horse she was taking care of. And four, a couple of years later but shows a two piece outfit I had made with a peasant blouse and tiered skirt. This style was a big favorite of mine. 

Memoir Monday, March 15, 1962

 March 15, 1962 Thursday!

Yes, I should put an exclamation point after today. It began early, ended late, and was exciting in between. We rolled out before sunup and were on the road by 7:30. It was rather chilly for awhile but soon warmed up. We had to do some shuffling but were able to park close and get a go view of the parade. We saw it from start to finish, one and a half hours of bands, floats, riding units and prancing, strutting horses. I have now seen close up real parade horses with silver decked saddles and all the “pretties”. I think I like the Arabians best. The Phoenix JayCee parade is not the Rose Bowl but it’s sure a long shot from the Cottonwood Sheriff Posse. I saw the rodeo queen, Miss Rodeo America, a blonde trick rider whose name I forget, Art Miller, etc. etc. It was fabulous, wonderful, pathetic, ridiculous and ??? We drove down to the Utah horse dealer’s place and almost bought a pretty sorrel Quarter Horse type mare. I rode her some and she handled pretty good but we decided against her. There was a real pretty Quarter Horse colt, too. We did our other shopping and at last loaded hay. We got home about 7:30, did the regular chores etc. Give us about two years and we’ll have an entry of mules. That would be a cool ball. Darn, I can’t go to college next year.  I’ll miss out on too much. What the parade needs is novelty and authenticity, more than the Bill Williams Mountain Men. There is our opening. Well back to my cage tomorrow. Hells Bells. Maybe I’ll get a letter from Jose. I hope so. I think I’ll ditch school.

By this time I was back in school and  varied from enjoying to hating it. I'd gone through a serious rebellion in the fall of 1960 but had recognized I was going to hurt myself way more than any damage or grief I could cause mom and dad so I was pretty straight by now and planning to graduate college-eligible and with honors. . No social life--but I had hopes that would change after I finished high school. It didn't--that took four more years. 

I actually 'ditched' very, very seldom but did take some days away with family permission such as this one. We had to get hay, cheaper and better down in the Phoenix suburban area. That meant  a full load in the big flatbed Ford F-800 we had gotten the previous fall or between 3 and 4 tons pilled as high as was safe and legal. We made that trip to coincide with the Phoenix JC's annual rodeo parade. Yeah, to a backwoods cowboy girl that was pretty impressive!

Art Miller had a flashy palomino horse and about the most decorated outfit I ever saw--a mint worth of silver!!. He was a major parade regular and I had a photo of him for awhile. I think we had met him a time or two but cannot recall the circumstances. Not a crush for some weird reason but anyway...

We carried the idea of a parade entry with a couple or several of our flashiest mules 'someday' but like many rather over-the-top dreams that never came to pass. "Back in my cage" came from one of Jim McLarney's pet sayings. Although I actually dated  him a bit some years later, 1966-67, at that time he was one of my English teachers and I was maybe one of his and Ernest Gabrielson's pets since I could write and spell and even mostly punctuate decently and was not rowdy, dull or inattentive. They both mostly gave me good grades. 

Jose was my current favorite pen pal. I think I  have mentioned him before.

Hard to find pictures, at least new ones. I'll try.  Another pose of a photo posted previously from that season and a shot of Charlie Mike on Prez but showing the big Ford truck in the background. It was dark green and dad had built most of the rack on it to haul animals but it also did many other tasks like hay.

Memoir Monday March 8, 1959

 

March 8, 1959  Sun

Another day spent mostly in the saddle. We rode the mares over to Mickle’s to check on the mules. I’m sure glad that the shoes helped Lady so much. In the afternoon we went up to Ray’s to pull Lizzie’s shoes. I caught her and stopped the old heifer from running off. She nearly tore my hands off but I held her. All and all this has been a nice weekend. I guess I’m a man’s girl in a way because you see I like sports etc.  Guess I must go, Gaye

1959--I was a sophomore at Mingus that spring, basically bored with school and to some degree with life. I tended to live for weekends and getting out to ride . "Heifer" was a word I had adapted to describe some terms that were frowned upon at home if I spoke them aloud like slut and bitch. Charlie Mike and I were getting skilled at adapting words and making up some of our own. We both knew how to cuss fluently by this time but also knew very well that doing so in the hearing of our parents would bring sharp retribution. So we came up with place holders!

At that time we had animals farmed out at different locations and visited often to check on them and give any care needed. Within a couple of weeks we would see five mules sold and gone, Lizzie being one of them. We'd had her a year and she was generally well behaved but still had a few mulish tricks that you had to watch for. I had learned a lot about how to handle the equine and related critters since I got Tina, my special mare, in February of 1956. I was well on the way to becoming pretty much an expert horsewoman. Lady was actually Lady II, a mare we had acquired some months earlier from Bob Reeves. We named her in honor of our earlier mare, Lady I, although that might have already been her name. That I do not recall. Apparently she had gotten sore footed or lame and shoes helped. The mares would have been her and Tina. "We" I am sure was my dad and me. Mom was not a big horsewoman and also about seven months pregnant with our baby brother who was born that May and Charlie Mike was only eight at that time. 

I'd share more of the earlier time, say 55-57, except most of my entries were pretty sparse at that time and I was not discussing a lot of things. Journal keeping was still a new effort and I was thinking in terms of more traditional diaries where maybe three lines were provided for each day. It wasn't that nothing happened or I had no thoughts or emotional reactions, but rather than I did not write them down. 

Actually there were lots of fun things during that time when I was going to school at Willard Grade School in Bridgeport with my dad as my teacher. I started fourth grade there in the fall of 1953 when it was a two room school but it went to one room two years later when I as in 6th grade.  I liked the country school where jeans and even bringing a horse to school was okay! In my main memoir, a work in progress, I do go into that more. 

Photos: Dad riding Lizzie and working with Albert. They both were 'rejects' from the Grand Canyon herd that we got in the spring of 1958. This was probably mid-1958. Next I am riding Lady II and looking over the first large batch of mules we got at the end of August, 1959. And last, mom on Chindy (Tchindi) and me on Lady I in the winter of 53/54. My posture was much more relaxed than mom's even then.

Memoir Monday March 1, 1960

March 1, 1960, Tuesday 

Another day of this will drive us all insane. It wasn’t as bad outside as yesterday but the scattered showers kept us from getting outside and working. I kept busy on odds and ends and I did the usual chores. Charlie Mike and I went up to the library. I got to watch “The Rifleman. It was a good show tonight and reminded me just how much I’d like to meet a man like Lucas McCain. I was just born seventy five years too late but that can’t be helped I guess. Didn’t see Blondie today. He is a poor substitute for the kind of man I want but you’ve got to have somebody. Adios, Gaye 

This was the spring when I was out of school. I came to hate days when the weather was ugly and I could not get out and ride--that was a chance to be by myself, maybe see someone "interesting" (as in male over 15 and under 75!) and  avoid any lectures or boring long "talks" generally about what I should and should not do and how to do it and all that. My dad was a master of overkill on this! Ugh!! The regular feeding and stock care chores did have to be done every day and in cold, wet, muddy or windy times were not at all pleasant. 

I was certainly suffering with my "addiction to romance"  at this point and was frustrated with having little to no social life or even much in the way of substitutes. So I watched TV westerns, started writing to pen pals and read lots of novels! Hobbies like sewing, drawing and writing my early efforts at fiction and poetry helped fill the time. A prior essay on the 'addiction' is here: https://deirdre-fourds.blogspot.com/2019/01/memoir-monday-addicted-to-romance.html

Being a "cowboy girl" was fun in some ways but it was so far out of step with where the rest of the world was going at this point. That made it easy to feel like a misfit, often sorry for myself, and a bit mistreated by life in general. Of course that is a typical teenage thing, but from about eighth grade on, I was just not anything like my schoolmates and contemporaries and felt I had so little in common with them. Our family was basically poor and our lifestyle miles away from anything 'average' or typical. I often felt friendless, ignored or invisible, and believed for sure those in my age group were mostly laughing at me. 

In reality most were not, if they even thought of me at all, but at that time I'd heard or overheard just enough snarky comments to make me somewhat standoffish. I was always very shy anyway and the situation exacerbated that. You have to be a friend to have one; I did have a few but with many people I had no idea how to approach them or really why I might need or want to. Because of that, any boyfriends were mostly a bit older and girlfriends younger. "Blondie" was another nickname for one of my crushes at the time. 

Some pix from the era:  First is me, probably fall 59 before I quit school. Next is me as the typical cowboy girl I was most of the time at home and when not in school.  Three is the first batch of mules we got that were the ultimate cause of my quitting school. Fourth is Charlie Mike, then about nine, showing how gentle Beano was, one of the mules we acquired in the 59-60 period. Beano was sold to a trail riding lady in Louisiana and shipped there by rail!