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.  

Memoir Monday, Aug 30, 1957

 I was almost ready to start high school as a freshman in the Clarkdale High School. Life had gotten a bit complicated a few days before due to my brother's accident. I'll cover that below.

Aug 30, 1957

Not actually! Got up at 7:30 as usual. I woke up at 7:00 just like an alarm clock. Did the horse chores and made a late breakfast. Fixed up the toys in Charlie Mike’s ‘shop”. Dad left. Took VI over to Mrs Wease and talked a bit. Did horse work. Ate lunch. Cleaned the house. Played a bit. Mom got here about 4:00. Visited her a few minutes. Went to town for mail and groceries. Did chores, cooked and ate. Eve came down for a few minutes. Drove over to Cottonwood. Charlie Mike is very cheerful. He is feeling much better. Talked and laughed and I read stories. Came home, fixed Dad’s supper. See you manana. Luz de Oro Bella Dona

Although the full fledged cowboy girl routine was not yet taking place, we had three horses and a mule or two at this point. Taking care of them was one of my main duties. Usually one or more were on a pasture but some would be stabled there in Clarkdale in the arroyo behind our house. At this point it was probably my mare Tina that I had owned for a year and a half and a mule we called Louie. 

Through the summer I had watched some of the critters graze either up the canyon where the swimming pool drainage irrigated a lot of Bermuda grass or other spots where grass grew. We were a very unofficial mowing crew! On August 27, I had Tina and Louie up in the canyon and Charlie Mike was hanging out with me. I had a hobble on Tina--that is a strap to bind the animal's two front legs close together at the ankle so they cannot run. I could then trust her not to stray if I had to run up to the house for some reason. Somehow Charlie Mike got in front of her as she hopped forward. Her hoof hit his leg, the left one, and he fell down. She did not step up him but managed to swing to one side. However when I tried to help him get up I saw at once something was drastically wrong! I edged him over closer to a mesquite tree and dashed for the house. Dad and Mom came at once and before long he was headed for the hospital with a makeshift splint on his leg. It turned out to be a spiral fracture of his thigh almost into the hip joint, a very bad break.

My uncle, Dad's brother, was a surgeon and advised not to put a pin in the leg due to Charlie's age as it could restrict proper growth. In lieu of that he was in the hospital for several weeks in traction to force the bone into place as it began to heal. Mom was able to stay with him most of the time since he was not quite six years old. That left me with a lot of new things to do at home. School started before he came home in a half body cast which he lived in for nearly two months more. 

I am confused on the one sentence. "Took VI over to Mrs Wease..." I know Mrs Wease was our next door neighbor and a friend but what I took is a mystery! Maybe I  just can't read my own writing after so long but that was what it looked like in my old journal!. And I was still using my fanciful artsy nicknames. Eve of course was my friend Evelyn Graves, now Morales for many years.

Charlie Mike recovered well and Mom home schooled him enough that he was able to go back after the holidays and pick up first grade and be promoted the next spring.  That leg is slightly longer and he wears a lift in the right shoe per several chiropractors' advice. I always felt bad about it but I realize there was probably nothing I could have done to prevent it and he has never berated me over it.  At almost 70, he now has some arthritis but in many places besides that injured leg.  

A few photos:  The first is Tina with me and Charlie near the same place but a few days before the mishap. Next is Charlie in the hospital with the traction appliance on his leg. Finally near the holidays, he was learning how to walk again and build muscle back in the leg. He was a game little kid through it all.

Memoir Monday, August 23, 1961

 The summer between my Junior and Senior years. It was a long hot one in which I was back doing my full time cowboy girl gig--many hours most days out working on or with the livestock, rain or shine. Already there were too many, mostly mules but some horses as well and of course the burros.  Socializing was near zero but I still kept up with the pen pal routine since that was better than nothing. 

Aug 23, 1961 Wed

Today did not go along too well for me. I got up about medium, fed the  monsters etc. because Mom was ironing. After breakfast I rode Ruby out as usual, also up to the PO.I only got one letter, a dull one. I saddled up Tina and led Ritz for an hour. She is really recovering now. I’ll have to cut down on her barley some. She’s getting sassy. Dad had to go help Charley B work on a horse. When I got in I worked on clothes some, wrote on my Ransom story and just messed around. While doing the evening chores I was stung by a wasp. It was all Charlie Mike’s fault because he threw a rock at the nest and made them mad. It sure hurts like bloody hell. I put ice on it etc. but to little avail. We may or may not go to Phoenix tomorrow. No telling. I hate to leave Chip down there too long though. We’re now crowded into hurrying on the Everly place. I hope we can get them both. Actually I guess I don’t care. I’m so damn tired all the time that I find myself caring little about anything. Like Gug said, “I’m so damn busy.” Gug—how do I always get back to him? He has a terrible fascination for me. I can’t help myself.  I think of him being with Juana instead of Spooks, but it doesn’t change me any. Aw hell with the dirty whoreson.

Ruby I have mentioned before, the small red mule we had gotten in a trade deal the summer of 1959. She was one of my pets and I rode her quite a lot. She had easy gaits and could run pretty fast if I encouraged her to do so. It took awhile to convince her but by now she went across the Clarkdale Verde River bridge without a fuss. That road was the quickest and easiest way to get to the pasture out behind Tuzigoot. The only way to avoid the bridge meant going along the west bank of the river a ways, opening a gate or two and fording  the stream. Tina is familiar to my readers I know!  Ritz was the filly born to a mare we had acquired in one of the batches of mules from the Kansas dealer.She was in foal when we got her but we did not know that at once. Her colt was born in the spring of 1960 so Ritz was now a year old. I think she had been sick with distemper earlier.  Like for dogs, that is a sickness like the flu or a bad cold.  She was a pretty filly, bright coppery sorrel with flaxen mane and tail and very high spirited! She was killed in a strange sad  accident later that fall. 

For amusement I spent the hottest siesta hours in the house normally and either sewed or worked on some stories I was writing. The Ransom of Rio Del Sangre was a Zane Grey style western tale I spent a bit of time on. That manuscript of maybe 25,000 words was lost in later moves although I had a few earlier and shorter tales in steno notebooks that I kept with my journals and have to this day. I was far from becoming a commercial and professional author at that point but I was trying!

The ranch hunt which I have mentioned before was on and off for a number of years. Several times it seemed we were on the verge of making a  deal and actually being able to move to a much better place to do the livestock business but it always fell through at some point and my flickering hopes finally died completely.  The deals on the radar here were among them. 

Chip was a mule we had sold to a very picky woman in Tucson. He was the second one she had decided would not satisfy her and she had left him at a stable in Phoenix where we had to go fetch him. When we shortly did so, we found he was kind of banged up and thin--I was pretty disgusted. 

Gug was my often mentioned crush/nemesis.  Finally that actually did really die and I was fortunate not to be damaged in the interim beyond an occasional bout of 'broken heart' or disgust. Clearly I was unhappy here and dredged up an epithet from the historical novels I read so many of! A nice Shakespearean sort of slur. Juana was a woman who lived a few doors from us and had many male callers and 'dates'. Among them was a co-worker of Gug's who I called Spook. Spook also was married and used to whine that when he got home his wife was "cold," as if that excused his tom-catting around.  Living lessons of the seamy side of life, right on my block. 

Photos: Mom is feeding Ritzi some grain out of the bucket and Ruby is probably sniffing up some that dropped.  Then the bridge from the downstream side--still standing last time I was there but has not been used for a long time and probably dangerous to even go out on it. And last, where I might have crossed if taking the bridge-less route. Charlie Bryant leading the ornery mule Albert and me on  Tonalea, the little Navajo pony I had for awhile.

Memoir Monday, Aug 16, 1962

It was getting late in my first summer after high school. The reality that my school days were done had not quite hit me yet.  When it did, it was a rather sharp wake-up call. How was my life going to be and where was it going to go now?  That $64,000 question took four years to answer. At times I wish I could have those years back to put to a better use...but life has no rewind or delete keys.  You only get one chance at each hour, day, or year. Some do get misspent and some are very rewarding. 

Aug 16, 1962, Thursday

Greetings. I’ve really got the early rise habit now. I woke up at 5:45 and dozed until 6:15. Usual chores. A car track and human track went down the River Road ahead of me. The car I found but the guy disappeared. Was it LS?  I don’t know—different tracks but the same size shoe I think. I got a long awaited letter from Jose this morning. “My Dearest Princessa,” he begins. Thank you, Querido, You have not forgotten me, have you? This afternoon I wrote Shirley and Jose, fed the boys their lunch etc. I was going to walk to town but it stormed. LS did, in thongs and half-mast levis and open shirt. Que Creepo. Dad ended up driving me up. I mailed his letter to Uncle Dan on the Texas deal and my two letters. I spent 14 cents on you, Jose. You must appreciate it! I rode Annie out. She was quite calm despite the ‘restless’ weather. This makes ten consecutive trips for me. I can’t remember last summer’s record but I think it was twelve. I must check. I spent the hours after supper playing solitaire, watching lightning and idly dreaming. I wish I had just $20.00 to spend now. No such luck though. I’ll be lucky if I get my $9.50 back, really. Maybe someday I’ll be rich… I intend to anyway. Goodnight, Jose, yo te quieres mucho.

Ah so. LS --name not recalled but I called him Larry Scary--was a geek who lived down the street from us for awhile. A few weeks prior he had waited down by the river and more or less propositioned me. I cut him short but did not pull out my sidearm or anything as I did not feel that threatened. However he did kind of stalk me and he and his pregnant wife would try to scare my mount when I rode down the alley behind their house, about a block down from us. He had a target on the back porch and threw Bowie knives at it. Yeah, pretty weird dude. I had ridden that way before they arrived and did so afterwards and one time my dad kind of told him to back off or else. I guess it went on for maybe 4-5 months total. They left and good riddance. 

Jose was my favorite pen pal at that time and I looked forward very eagerly to his letters. He wrote in different colors of ink for different themes or ideas. I kind of took that for writing in my journal, actually.  He was not Latino but we did use some Spanish and I am not sure now why. He was Native American, I think Northern Cree, and Polish or at least said so. We never met but wrote for 2-3 years at least.

I think the $9.50 was part of my graduation money that had gone for some family purpose as allegedly a 'loan.' At least in my case, parents --or rather Dad--were not a good risk for lending. Sigh. I am sure I had seen the last of that. 

As for rich, well not ever really. I did okay once I got through school and working and have never been truly homeless or hungry and today can afford all I need and some small treats and luxuries off and on. That is as good as one can expect really. At that time I thought all writers were rich and any novel would make a million. Ha ha. Ignorance was bliss. That is hardly even marginally true.  Few do more than barely eke out a living. Including me despite having several novels published and a lot of shorter work. It is more for fun than profit! 

Really no good photos to illustrate so here is one of me with Mindy and the Annie I mentioned. She is the one with the saddle and I rode many miles on her. She had nice gaits and was mostly a well behaved old mule. The little dog was named Sambo (not politically correct but okay in 1962), a  pup of Charley Bryant's old female dog. What was her name? Have no memory!

This shot was out at the pasture corrals--land we leased behind Tuzigoot and at the south end of Tavasci Marsh which was their dairy then. I reached it by the River Road I mentioned except when there was a big flood and the trail would be under water.  My route went past a favorite fishing spot right at the end of the Tuzigoot hill. The road ended on the bank about 100 yards above the river with a footpath or in my case bridle path, down to the bank.  I went on across a mesquite flat to one gate into the pasture.  Wait I do have a photo of that area a few years ago, about 2015.  The gate was in the grove of cottonwood trees middle upper left. And the river bottom-last shot- is very changed now and not readily accessible. The hole was just about center--right down off Tuzigoot from which I took these two photos. 

Memoir Monday--Aug 9, 1961

This was the summer between  my last two years of high school, sliding to a close. Not too much excitement right then so I was going on about guys--heck, what teenager does not have males on her mind? I always picked 'different' ones to moon over being the odd-ball that I am (LOL). Still doing the cowboy girl gig of course which by this point was very routine and almost habitual in many ways.  Ride, feed, clean up, fix stuff and repeat. Over and over and over...

Aug 9, 1961

Today dawned bright and clear and promised to become hot. I, as usual, rode Ruby out to see to the monsters who were naturally o.k. I returned and rode up to get the mail. I got a letter from Wayne, as I knew I would. I always do if I make a real dire threat. Then I was off to Cottonwood. A couple of birds in an old bus kept bothering me. At last I picked up a rock but did not get to use it. I saw a real cute CTI driver who looked like Bert. I saw “Sandy” and one of Stan Allen’s brothers. This one is a livin’ doll. He looked at me real shy like. Sheesh! I bought my stuff (like this ink?) and came home. Charlie Mike and Clarence gave Mrs Walker back 50 cents on the yard and spent 50 cents more for ‘treats’ uptown. How dumb can those kids get? Wasting their money. Well this afternoon it rained—and how. Like in the old days. Dad got back earlier than we had expected and had rather discouraging reports. The land is not worth much etc. Too bad, but I had not counted on it much. If we get to Colorado it will be entirely due to our own efforts. I wish Wayne was here—a stormy night like this is no time to be alone. Maybe I am a naughty girl but I think I could sleep easier in someone’s arms. I didn’t see Gug this morning, only Sus and the truck, also Kewlman and the slob. Aw hell. I should stay AWAY from Gug anyway. If I had about $20 to spend on supplies etc for school, then I‘d wish school would start. This is my last year and I am going to have fun. Oh, I’ll work but not slave like I did last year. Of course I was pretty wild from Aug31 to October 30 but after that I just worked. I wish Wayne would make it down before school starts but then I’d have the problem of getting the folks to accept him. If it were Ray or Al I think that part would be easier. Well, adios, amigos.

I have mentioned Ruby before. She was a cute little red mule, a very pretty color similar to a dark Hereford cow and not a real common hue for mules and horses. She was a good little mule most of the time and barely big enough for me! A larger man looked ridiculous on her. I am pretty sure she was under fourteen hands--a hand being 4 inches--at the withers where equines are measured.  The withers is that 'bump' in the spine where the neck melds into the body. We have a bit of a bump there too. 

Besides eyeing local blue collar guys that I referred to as "the Young and Restless" I was writing pen pals. Right then my fave was Wayne, the rodeo cowboy who lived in Washington.  Ray was in the serivice and I think came from northern New Mexico and Al was about to get out of the Navy for a bit and go to work for Art Pollard, the racing Quarter Horse man based at Sonoita (to which I had not yet been here in southern Arizona. Made it ten years later.)

Bert was another semi-HH and Sandy was a cement truck driver for CTI who hauled linestone out of the newish plant. Stan Allen was my freind Maureen's step-father. Gug was one of many names for my nemisis who worked for the propane company. Bad news and I knew it but was still fascinated.... Wicked girl!! That almost blew up in my face a bit later. 

Charlie Mike and a friend had been doing yard work--a short-lived project! I was a bit miffed since I really did not have time to take on something like that to make some moola!! Did not seem fair. Charlie Mike did help me but it was not his full time job. Well, he was just near ten than. 

The "ranch hunt" still went on--in retrospect  such a huge waste of time and energy  but that was not yet really clear. And of courses there was never enouugh money and my share of what came in was always pretty slim. It helped that my grandmother sent me a dollar or two every month and I was always finding pop bottles on my rides which could be redeemed for a few cents. The ink I mentioned was a dark marooon or deep red with a touch of purple. I was hand-writing my journal of course and liked to use fancy colors. I either wrote with an old fashioned point-pen or used Lindies which came in many colors. 

Not many pix--I have had them posted before but here is Ruby and then Wayne, and a portrait I drew of one of the HH crew. (HH stood for "Handsome Hero", my semi-tongue-in-cheek term for my various crushes. Few were really handsome and most were more anti-heroes!)

Memoir Monday, August 2, 1960

Back to the interim year betwen the two halves of my high school career.  This seems to have been one of the dry years, and yes, they happened even then before "Climate Change" was such a huge issue.   My "mule year" was winding down, though it never actually 'ended' for another six years, but I would return to school a month later. 

Aug 2, 1960 Tuesday

I don’t believe it’s ever really going to rain. It is hot and drier than ever. I rode Tina out to do the chores and then rode Trix to get mail. I got a long and quite interesting letter from Linda Bush. She sounds like a real nice girl and is interested in many things I am. I spent the afternoon over at the shop working on Charlie Mike’s stuff. We reduced it to three boxes. Got to start planning our move, you know. Evelyn is back and had to tell me all about her trip. She brought me a pretty necklace. She sounded like she had a pretty nice time. I’m glad we're leaving; I can’t say that enough times. Oh of course I’ll miss some things and people. I just missed seeing BlonG today. He drove in over at Cottonwood just as I rode out. Saw “Slaunchy Raunchy Kewlman” who stared as usual. Also Dale Graves. He’s got a car—an Olds no less. Man, he’s my pal, (Not really) Also saw “Wes” and “Johnny.” I guess I’ll miss my HH’s for awhile but I’m sure to find some new ones. We’ve got our land up for sale now. I can’t believe it is all real. I don’t tell anyone for fear it will fail. Anyway, it’s going to be a surprise. “One of these days and it won’t be long, you’ll call my name and I’ll be gone.” Maybe I’ll let them give me a goodbye party though. I don’t know whether or not I’ll tell “Wes” that we’re going. Maybe I could get him to kiss me goodbye. Quien sabe? Now I’m being silly, no? Haven’t really seen BlonG for quite awhile but I believe I’m getting over him. At least I did not remember I’d forgotten something when I saw him drive up; I just kept right on travelin’. He’s no damn good anyway. Poor old Lady is awfully thin but her milk is drying up so we can put her on the grass pretty soon. Then she’ll pick up. JB and Jenny are thin too. They all need some freedom. They are rebels like me. Adios.

By now my regular readers know who Tina is and probably Trixie. I rode several hours most days and usally divided that time among two or more mounts so they all got exercise, training or both. 

By this time I was starting into the pen pal adventure, mostly girls to begin with. Linda Pflug (nee Bush) was an early one. She had a letter and a drawing in the Junior Horseman column of Western Horseman magazine weeks before I did and I wrote her which started a freindship which has lasted until this day.  We were both near the end of high school when we began to correspond and have probably exchanged a novel or two worth of letters over the years. She is now in a care center in Washingrton (state--near Spokane) due to some major health issues but is on FB and we are still in touch. BFFs in the finest sense of that idea--sharing our love of horses, marriages, her kids and my step kids, and many other events. We have actually been face to face just a few times over those many years. 

At this point our family was really trying to find and buy a ranch to move to so we could do a much better job of our livestock business. Sadly that never happened for a number of reasons. I cover it all much more in my book-length memoir, still a work in progress. At this point I still had hope and faith it would happen. We were "going to" move over to Wickiup in Mojave County at this point and I was planning ahead--fruitlessly as it turned out. 

I used lots of nicks and aliases for my ill-assorted  "Handsome Heroes" and "Former Fancies." Some I have mentioned before. One was my nemisis and I came very close to getting into a serious mess there. Thank goodness I survived intact. Enough said!!

Lady was Lady II. She had borne a mule colt in May and he was killed in late June in a very sad accident. We had to feed her light for a time to get lactation to stop and the whole thing was very hard on her. JB and Jenny were burros. 

Now for photos. Linda's high school senior picture. She had naturally curly blonde hair--really cute! Then Linda and me in about 1998 when she was able to spend a week with me at Whetstone. We had so much fun!! Next is Jenny (Jennifur) and one of her babies. She was allegedly Charlie Mike's and had come from Sam Steiger's ( a livestock dealer over near Prescott) in about 1958 or so and had several colts over the years. Baby burros are so adorable! Then another shot of Jenny and another female burro named Lila and their babies. Again, so cute!