Memoir Monday, June 13, 1962

Not quite two weeks from graduation. Some disillusionment set in fast but it came and went. It is hard now to explain, much less defend how or why things went so much awry and why I tolerated and suffered through them for a long four years--June 1, 1962 to September 8, 1966. This period is probably the main reason I am working now on a detailed memoir and semi-autobiography of my first quarter century. I need to try to understand and also to demonstrate that one can be mired in a pit of  psychological quicksand to the point where escape seems impossible and yet in time do so and rise above, move past  and make a new path and life. That I did so is one thing I am proud of. I had little normal human help so I have to be deeply thankful to my personal Deity and guardian angel(s) who surely watched over, protected and guided me.

June 13 1962, Wed

Damn, I’m so sick of everything. I got up at 7:00 to help Mom water and feed. Right after breakfast Dad and I took off. We stopped by the pasture to feed and then rode on down to Montezuma. We climbed all over the darn place, looking at fences etc. I was already tired . We had to change our right front tire this morning and get it fixed. While sitting in front of George’s Union Station, I saw the Bastard go by --big as life and twice as ugly. Anyway, that Montezuma ranch will sure need one hell of a lot of work to fix it up. It is awfully pretty down along Beaver Creek but that place is a mess. Dad and I drove all over out there to Rimrock Acres, Montezuma Country Club, Rimrock Ranch and finally around to Sedona on the new road and home. I’ll have to admit that Arizona , the Verde Valley in particular, is awfully pretty. Coming back I saw the Bastard again. He was laughing with one of his buddies and showing a mouthful of teeth. To hell with him. I rode Cinder out and did the usual chores. I couldn’t get the herd in. Hell--let Johnny T worry about them. They are on him, not me. Don Lee called this evening. I don’t know--maybe Dad will go down there tomorrow. All I know is I’ll stick here until September and then I either go to college or go away and get a job unless we are moved.  No ifs, ands or buts about it. I’m free, white and nineteen and my own woman. --til I see the Bastard or hear from Jose or Juen (Wayne) again!  

I've  mentioned the "ranch hunt" before and that will be a frequent theme for the next two years and even parts of the whole period. This effort was ongoing but in fits and starts. This particular summer we made a lot of trips and got high hopes which collapsed over and over again.  At this time the Montezuma area was not developed as it is now so there were many vacant tracts of land and places that had been abandoned. The one we looked at was owned by the brother of the Don Lee I mentioned who was a real estate agent.  If memory serves, it was hilly and rocky for the most part, full of tumbleweeds in the lower or more level parts and had sagging fences that would not keep much in or out. I could not find it now to save my life, but I was very unimpressed! Although I said we 'rode' I am pretty sure Dad drove down to that area as the rest of the tale indicates.

As I said last time, the Bastard was my ultimate epithet for the guy who had been my crush at one point and then became my nemesis when I finally realized what a piece of trash he was and how stupid I had been to be taken in by his flirting and increasingly blatant propositions. I was not longer 17 and legally protected jail bait so it became hazardous for me fast. I told him to disappear from my life and not to acknowledge me in any way. He did, except for staring at times still. I was not such a femme fatale--the cowboy girl in dirty jeans, manure stained boots and and never any makeup or fancy stuff. What did he see in me except one who got away?

My language had gotten rougher. There were still some words I did not use and actually did not for many years, but I cussed quite a bit though limited it around my parents and most adults--other adults I guess I should say since I was really one myself by now although most of my life style did not reflect that. I mostly kept a sense of humor anyway, often dry, wry or even sarcastic but it was there.

Riding to the pasture was a constant chore. By my usual route down the 'river road'--roughly where the Tuzigoot highway runs now-- and then down into the river bottom at the end of the tailings pond and around the corner to the gate. It was about 2 1/2 miles each way. At a lope or a hard trot I could travel it in about ten minutes.Taking a rough count out of my journal where I did document my work most days as well as the weather, for the 214 days from 1 June-31 December in 1962, I made that trip on horse or mule back 249 times. We drove around by the road thru Tuzigoot, now no longer open, to haul hay or do some work there 118 times. 

A few semi-relevant photos: Charlie Mike helping as I saddled up a mule to probably ride out.  Not Cinder that I mentioned here but probably Annie--Cinder was not that tall. All three of us sitting on the Ford pickup, looking ragged and ratty as usual--the growing boys in high water pants and all in clod hoppers or ragged tennies. Last me by the pickup, likely going somewhere since I was more dressed up than usual, wearing good jeans and one of the many shirts I made.

Memoir Monday, May 30, 1962

The last day before graduation and so the last day of my high school era that I will feature in the blog here. Time to move on. There were four difficult years ahead which at the time I did not foresee.

May 30, 1962

Today was a nice day, warm but a little windy. I got up and fed the monsters and Mom baked biscuits for breakfast. I loaded four bales of hay --boy were they heavy-and Dad drove out to the pasture with Charlie Mike and me for the first time in over a week. The herd was up by “Old Bill’s” campground. We fed the monsters and came home. Mom was doing the washing so I baked some cookies for lunch, fed the boys, etc. I ironed my graduation dress and my ‘umbrella dress’ for tomorrow. I rested and wrote four letters in the afternoon. When I rode Annie out the critters were down at the south end of Tavasci’s so I didn’t have to go fetch them.  I took a bath and dressed up so Dad could take some pictures of me. I sure hope they come out. He took six  with my camera and four with the Rollieflex. I hope I looked glamorous! Anyway Dad said my hair was real nice and Mom said I looked nice too. I held one of my pretty pink roses. Well, supper is now over and I guess I am as ready as I’m going to be for tomorrow.  At least I’ll have  all afternoon to get ready; I will rest and practice my speech and stuff I guess. Now for my beauty sleep. I’m anxious and excited and scared and happy and nervous and scared!

Since the Monday Holiday thing did not take effect until 1971, Memorial Day was still on May 30 at this time so it was  a holiday with no school. Thus it was an at home day with some chores and some looking ahead--with a level of anxiety!

Either Dad had been sick or on a trip, it appears. At any rate he drove out to the pasture with Charlie Mike and me that morning. "Old Bill" was Bill Nelson who camped in a shady grove just at the SE corner of a large part of Tavasci's dairy for awhile as he was homeless. He was a pretty good western artist and hocked a couple of paintings to Dad for a loan to help get back on his feet. By this time he had reclaimed them and moved on but we still referred to that spot  as his camp. The mules were either just on our side of the fence or maybe across. The cattle guard on the road was pretty filled in and they could walk it. We had a gate on it for a bit. 

Chores went on as always but I had more free time than often and used it to get ready for the last day.  My "umbrella dress" was new, a gift from Grandma Witt, in a light sort of voile fabric and the skirt had a print of umbrellas--or actually frilly parasols. Of course  my graduation dress was also hand made and I was very pleased with it although by today's standards it was very childish and would draw scorn and laughs. First communion maybe--at age 12??

Although I often felt they did not feel much positive about me, my parents did seem to be glad and proud that I was to be valedictorian and was getting some recognition in the local community for that fact. We were not taking birthday or Christmas photos by this point but Dad did get some of me dressed up for the Big Event. An older couple had come by and given me a bouquet of lovely roses from their garden the day before and I held one for a couple of the photos. I have no idea what happened to the negatives of the photos Dad took as all the ones I have now were from my little Kodak snapshot camera.

Yes, I was still quite timid and the idea of speaking before a big (to me) crowd was very intimidating. I knew I would probably talk too fast and perhaps even stumble and stammer. I guess I did not do badly when it finally came about. I had my 'visit from grandma' as we girls called our period that day and took some stronger pain pills left over from some dental work so I was about doped to the eyeballs during the ceremony. It did help to suppress my nerves!

This whole time seems so remote and unreal to me now. It almost seems like something I read or saw in a movie or TV show decades ago. Well, it is sixty years as of tomorrow so small wonder it feels very distant and almost fantasy. Now to the photo file and a small brag about  this distant person who may have been me in a prior life!! She appears in the two dresses I mentioned and the formal cap and gown--the only time I ever wore such since I did not go through either ceremony at NAU--and no regrets there!!

The first is on the steps on the art building. My friend Maureen took it and I took one of her there too. Next me in the white dress. It was sweet and girlish--perhaps very right for me as some sexy formal would have felt awkward to the cowboy girl I already was becoming. And last, the cap and gown--a requirement for the event. Graduation--commencement but also an end, a very final and slam-the-cell-door sort of end in some ways. That will come the next so many Mondays...

Memoir Monday, May 23, 1961

 Near the end of the next-to-last year of school. Nothing too exciting!!

May 23, 1961

Another day passed. Now there are only nine left. Oh yes,, I can live that long. In nine days I will have passed or failed chemistry. In nine more days I will be free. Today was a long and boring day in school. We are having an archery test in PE. Coming down the stairs I fell and twisted my ankle, sprained it really. I didn’t ride Ruby tonight. We drove out to the corral and I rode Trixie back. Had a little trouble getting things done but once I took off, I was okay. My ankle was stabbed with pain but victory was mine. She walked and fast too. Somehow then I knew we had it made. I knew I could stop worrying. Tomorrow Dad is planning to go to St John. I will have to get up early and ride out to the pasture. I don’t think that will be bad though. I was worrying about Wayne’s letter but the solution is don’t answer it. I will at least wait til school is out--that’s only two weeks--before I answer his or any other letter unless something happens to make me change my mind. Well it is early to rise in the morning so I am going to get to bed before 10:30 for once. Hasta luego.

I guess I had more trouble with Chemistry than any class I ever took. (Well except for Algebra II which I began and then after the Mule Year, never resumed again.) At this time I had a big mental barrier about math and science, especially math. I had little trouble with chemistry until we got to the formula and valance stuff--that just boggled my brain. I got a 4 (D) one grading period and scared myself spitless.  Somehow I pulled thru that and ended up with a sympathy 3 (C) for the class. Bless Mr Clark--he really was a nice guy and a good teacher if a bit crotchety at times! I had geometry with him too and that was not hard when I convinced myself the angles and shapes were really art, not math! 

I was never really a klutz ( ha ha) but I would get in too big a hurry at times and do dumb things like trip on the stairs. My poor right ankle took a beating; got a bad cut once and probably sprained it half a dozen times. Then I broke both bones just above the joint in 1999 and had a piece of metal put in to stabilize it. Not been sprained since! Dr Susini did a good job so I 'immortalized' him with a different name in my novel Hearts to Heal which also uses my accident experience for my heroine's first scene--and how she meets the hero! I will get that book reissued later this year.

Ah, the little mules that I especially liked: Ruby and Trixie. They were both smaller--just about 14 hands high, barely not pony-size, so easy to saddle and mount, Ruby was a dark Hereford red with a white star and Trixie was black with a white muzzle and a dainty dished face (I think) from her Arabian mare mom.

The mentioned trip was another of those "ranch hunting' treks. Boy did that get old after awhile and I became terminally cynical about the prospect of ever moving. And I was right--it did not happen. Wayne was an off-and-on favored pen pal. He was always planning to come down (he lived in Washington) to make a rodeo so we could meet but that never happened.  He had been calling me every 2-3 weeks and I suppose I got chewed out for that, though I am not recalling clearly. 

Oh well, the angst and aggravations of being 18 and still essentially forced into a 12 year old's life style although I did an adult's work with the animals and had adult responsibility in that regard. Socially, no way.  It has taken me over a half century to unravel all this crap--part of the process is sharing glimpses from it.  I felt so alone and alien then; now I know my odd life was not that unique or strange in a broad  sense--so many have gone through trauma growing up, many much worse than mine.

Some recycled photos: Trixie under saddle; me holding Ruby  probably the prior summer; me on Trixie on the North Point Trail, Mingus; and Wayne Wylder, rodeo cowboy and pen pal. Lastly, me in May 1999 with my denim blue cast

Memoir Monday, May 16. 1960

 Another little peek into the lost year between the two blocks of my high school. I am sure the chores got done but I did not mention that here.

May 16, 1960

It was a pretty day except that it got windy.  Dad and Mom went to Prescott and I held the fort here. I fixed up a yellow blouse with rickrack to match my squaw skirt and made a little kerchief. I did the dishes, made PB cookies etc. Went square dancing again. The Steeles, Pecks and Jacksons were there. Dr Bates came too and was my partner. I’ve already decided not to go anymore. There isn’t anyone my age there and all. There are just no decent young people here and there is nothing at all to do. I get so lonesome and discouraged that I just don’t know what to do. How I’ll ever endure two more years of high school here I don’t know. I look up at Chuck Connors picture and he just stares down with somber eyes and says nothing. Beau, Curly, Deuce, Reb and Breed don’t help me either. Oh yes, Mom and Dad brought me home a watch. She got it with trading stamps and I am tickled to death with it. I never expected to get a watch of my own. Maybe all isn’t darkness but I sure can’t see the light. Maybe somewhere there is a light that never fails and I will sight it in a few steps more. I don’t know, I just don’t. PS Mrs Steele and Mrs Peck said my dress was real pretty. They are both nice. Adios Gaye

Staying home, I would have taken care of Alex who was one day short of a year old. Kids that age still sleep a lot or have to be 'corralled' so I went ahead and did other work to. Charlie was of course in school--about 3rd or 4th grade. The outfit I was discussing was featured a couple of weeks ago too- there is that 'bad' word--it was  a **square dance** skirt! I was not ever real domestic but I often did the dishes and if I had a bit of free time, cookie making was a big deal and they always got eaten up very  fast. Our whole family were sweet-tooths!

A mild little giggle. Dr Bates lived in Bridgeport and his son had been in 4th grade with me but had later gone off to NMMI (New Mexico Military Institute). I recall nothing about Mrs Bates at all but do remember a small scandal when the good doctor "ran off" with a teacher from the Verde Valley School.

I was sad no other teenagers came to the square dancing--well, what did I expect. It was "Square" and that was not a compliment at this time, quite the opposite. I was getting a bit tired of and impatient with boys or guys near my age--they seemed awfully immature and goofy! So I had my "heroes" to include the celebrity crushes (Chuck Connors) and the guys I knew locally--Beau, Curly, Deuce, Reb and. Breed were some of them. I  had drawn them and put up some of the portraits on my wall. They were part of the crowd I called "The Young  and Restless." No, not the soap opera; I do not think I had even heard of it yet. But to me this fit the blue collar guys in the 20-30 age bracket which I had some faves among and most of them were happy to flirt any time. Being out of school for a year, I felt even more dissociated from my peers and sensed I would "fit in" even less when I went back. Since I'd been doing an adult's work the past months and interacting with adult customers, I felt I was quite grown up! (Parents did NOT agree!!)

At the time I did not realize fully but Mom put a lot of effort into getting things that Charlie Mike and I wanted despite us being in poverty.  I did help at times to paste the S&H Green Stamps and Safeway's Gold Bond Stamps into the books but she kept track of how many were required and saved aside the little bit of cash to order things. This watch was one such and later I got a camera and a small record player. They were all cherished but I am sure I did not thank her enough. 

Oh my, those days. Not a lot of photos were taken and I did not have that camera yet--it was Christmas 1961. So I'll find a few at least somewhat pertinent. The first is Alex, probably spring 1961. The next is Charlie's 3rd grade school picture and the last is me, setting up  a post  in a fresh dug hole, probably at "the ranch"--our 20 acres down south of Bridgeport. I had just gotten that black hat--and loved it! And I think I have the watch on my left wrist though it is not clear.

Memoir Monday, May 9, 1962

Winding down the last month of high school. This was the day I got the word. It was a shock, a thrill and really not expected.

May 9, 1962

Today began early as they all seem to. The folks went out to do the chores early and I got up and did the home chores. I hemmed a dress up but I made it too short so I couldn’t wear it. I must get something done with my hair. It’s a fright. I worked on my paper in study hall. In English I was sitting in the library when Mr McLarney came in and told me I was selected valedictorian. I nearly fainted dead away on the spot. I had hoped so hard and now, I’m not sure I want the honor! But I got it, anyway. Judy Jaynes is salutatorian. Three weeks from tomorrow--por los santos! I’m nearly through with the “Adventures of Banana Annie." It’s rather cute if I do say so myself. In journalism we’re still working on the senior edition of the Verde Independent. Imagine me as valedictorian. Well, Moose, I beat you, didn’t I? I saddled Cinder and got the herd out of Tavasci’s and did the usual chores. The folks and I returned almost the same time. They went to see the Lizotte Place, Sasser’s again etc. and seem to have high hopes for the future. Everything is so impossible. I know I will wake up pretty soon. I’m bound to but the dream is swell. Tomorrow Sasser comes over. I start on my speech on Monday so I’ve got to hurry up on my paper. I’ve put some hours in on it tonight. Mrs Wease has given me my first graduation gift--a nice box of stationery.  I got cards from her and Shirl C.  I guess it’s real but I really can’t believe it yet. The seniors are throwing a big party at Montezuma Country Club June 1. Maybe I’ll go; it all depends.

The word? Who was going to be valedictorian of the class of 1962! I had an idea I might graduate with honors but what place I might be was not assured at all. I did not even know who my top competition was. Actually I kind of thought I was competing with Anita Schwartz. Was being the #1 a long term ambition or goal? Not really. In 1959 when I was a sophomore, I was at that graduation and my old crush and frenemy, Marvin Kallsen, by then known mostly as "Moose," was a co-salutatorian. I think Ruth Ann Chilton was the valedictorian. I made a reckless vow to myself at that time that I would beat him. I had not forgotten but it was not a huge thing to me when the actual day approached. Then suddenly it was a reality. I was thrilled until I realized, "Oh snap! I'll have to make a speech!!" I also found that Judy Jaynes, a new transfer that year or the prior one was just a point or two behind me, not Anita after all..

"Banana Annie" was a project for art class.. It was nearly a final assignment that Ms Mahoney had given us: to write and illustrate a children's book. My story concerned a brother and sister who lived in Central America and their Papa's mule named Annie who hauled a cart load of bananas to the port to ship away. It was one of the few projects I was happy with and I thought I did a good job. I still have it, actually. Heck, maybe I should try to publish it!

Mom and Dad were still caught up in the 'ranch hunting' efforts and had gone back to re-look at a couple they were interested in. Well, he was; she not so much! But whatever Dad wanted, Mom would go along with--mostly without a fuss but sometimes not as enthusiastic as he wanted.  They were talking maybe a trade with the 20 acres (unimproved but with a good well) that we had down below Bridgeport as a down payment I think. And Mr Sasser was going to come look at it.

Suddenly graduation was beginning to feel real. That final month was a roller coaster, a crazy race, a jumble of highs and lows and busy-ness that was exhilarating and also exhausting. There were days I was not sure I'd make it in one piece. But I did. And the 'chores' went on as always. Trying to keep the mules out of Tavasci's place which our leased pasture adjoined was a continual challenge and kerfuffle. It seemed like once a week I was trying to gather them up and back home. The cattle guard on the main road was almost filled in with run-off dirt and those crafty mules walked it as dainty as you please.

No photos but here are a few pages out of Banana Annie just for fun!

Memoir Monday, May 2, 1960

 

Going back briefly to the Mule Year.  Not a lot was happening right then!

May 2, 1960 Mon

Another busy day for us. I rode Col out to the pasture this morning. We brought Tiz home and rode her out this morning. She is a pretty good old mule. She will probably walk better than Friz. In the afternoon we shod Col up with special shoes in front. They have roller toes and are ground thin on the inside. I rode Tina in the afternoon and led Bo out to the pasture. I’m really glad to be rid of him. After supper Mom and I went up to the Methodist Church to the square dance practice. The Hoovers, Pecks, Jacksons and Mr Harris (a teacher) were there. I was disappointed that no young people were there. I guess maybe I won’t go anymore. I don’t know. It was kind of fun. I’m just tired now. Adios, Gaye

This was pretty typical of that time, riding a lot, swapping animals around and spending  much of an average day outdoors. Let's see: Colonel was a bay gelding we had gotten along with some of the mules. He was a nice, calm and steady horse and I rode him a bit for a while. He could also lead or pull so that gave Tina a rest. He was a plain bay in color and not at all remarkable but not ugly or anything. He had a  habit of stumbling and 'interfering' or kicking an ankle at times  with the other foot. We tried some corrective shoeing to see if it would help. As I recall it did. The curved or rolled toe would be less likely to catch and cause a stumble and the shoe being thinner on the inner edge would change the balance of the way the foot swung and reduce the move too far inside to hit the other leg. 

Poor little Lobo or "Bo"  was a small odd colored horse who was also acquired with a bunch of mules. He had a habit of bucking and never wanted to give that up. He also had a swelling on the side of his jaw that was probably painful and may have added to his being fractious at times. We thought for awhile he had distemper which can cause odd sores that break and drain as well as "cold" type symptoms of running nose etc. However it turned out he had an abscessed tooth. Surgery to remove it would have been pretty costly and that would not cure his bucking so the chances to sell him were slim. He ended up going back to the dealer. I fear he ended up at the slaughter house. That was kind of sad.

Bertha Mae White, the pastor at the Methodist Church where we went off and on (Mom, Charlie Mike and me), was very eager to get community things going. I was excited when she began the square dance classes. I had hopes some other young people might show up but that was in vain. Even then I do not think that square dancing was considered cool by my contemporaries. I enjoyed it even if the people were all middle aged and I did go back a few times.  I loved the full tiered skirts and petticoats and this gave me a chance to wear them and get out of those grubby jeans that were my cowboy girl uniform.A few years later, I took a square dance class for PE credit at NAU and had a small step up on the other students as I knew some of the calls and moves already! Allemande left and do-si-so!

Again photos are hard to come by! Okay, not one of the mules mentioned but another--and I was a little neater than often--no patches!-- for an 'ad' type photo! This was out at the pasture behind Tuzigoot. And there is one of those skirts--probably the year before as I was clearly going to school. By now I was able to make them myself and added several to my wardrobe. We had called them "squaw" dresses--no  longer polite--so I will just say square dance skirts. This one was blue and yellow as I recall--with rick-rack!

Memoir Monday , April 25, 1962

 All downhill from here or nearly so--just a long month left of my schooling.I knew I was good to graduate and there were no classes I feared to fail. Almost coasting for a bit but life was still not all roses and sweets. Chores, work, issues...it was what it was.

April 25, 1962, Wednesday

 Maybe the ball is rolling at last? Well, at any rate, I hope so. It was kind of cloudy and cold today. School wasn’t bad. I decided to write on Kipling and Stevenson for my second term paper. McLarney okay’d it. I’m still reading Exodus. It’s a darn good book. In Civics we had a test. I think I only missed one or two of seventy or so. Not bad, huh? Reen and I ate in the gym because it was so cold and windy out. We didn’t do much in art class except prepare for our Student Art Show which is to be April 30-May 20 at the Jerome Art gallery. No mail for me today.  I bought a “Toni,” a new diary and some index cards. I rode Cinder just long enough to lead Prez around for awhile and we did the chores out of the truck. The folks seem to be enthusiastic about the Sasser ranch so guess I’ll have to get some enthusiasm for it too. It really could be a made into a nice ranch. I really don’t care to much where we go so long as we get a place that we can move to right away after school is out. I spent the evening thinking, wrote to Jose and just loafed. We put off fixing my hair for another night. It looks pretty scroungy now but I don’t care. I’m not trying to impress anyone. Well, I only have one more day to be eighteen--crazy, no? I can’t say I’m too excited about getting older, though. Oh, hell with the mess. Tomorrow I really must fix my hair and then on Friday I’ll begin a new era. I hope we do go somewhere early in the summer. Maybe I can have Reen come and spend part of the summer with me. We’d have a cool ball exploring etc. if she could come visit me at a new place of ours. I daren’t hope too hard. Adios.

Weather was changeable then, just as it is now though perhaps a bit cooler  and also wetter than it is now. Still to be too cold to sit outdoors for lunch at almost the end of April seems not quite right.

Term papers. I always liked to do comparisons. Not sure why except it made it easier to hang your premise and go on from there. A did xyz while B did uvw, etc.. Kipling and Stevenson were always rather favorites of mine in English Lit, both men of their time and somewhat adventurous and explorers who wrote about many things--some for kids and more for adults, poetry and prose. The Victorians were much less prone to staying in a small box than folks even of the middle 20th century, much less today. I have never really liked specialization. I am given to making a snide comment about someone who is an expert on the ant's left hind leg and knows nothing about the rest of the ant! Renaissance woman are us or at least I aspired to be.

I dimly recall that art show. Ms Mahoney had us go up a few days later and hang things. Both Maureen and I had several pieces that were displayed, I think. 'Reen was a much better artist than I was. I may even have gotten an honorable mention or some such though. I might still have a bit of my old work in a big portfolio case along with posters, maps and other stuff.

My purchases: "Toni" was a brand of home permanent and I wanted to get my hair nicely done before the end of the term. I always had very fine hair, though never sparse or too thin, but it would be super curly for a week or two and then go back to almost straight again. I laugh to read "I am not trying to impress anyone." That was so me a that time. No guys in school were the least but interesting to me and with  my normal riding hat on, the blue collar "young and restless" fellows I noticed and was noticed by could not see much of my hair. They were probably not looking at that anyway. LOL. I kept my diary or journal mostly in steno notebooks at the time and was filling them up faster as I began to write more each day. Note cards for the term paper--and maybe later for my speech when I knew I had to make one at graduation.

The ranch mentioned was over somewhere around Prescott. For several years  we were constantly 'going to get' this ranch or that and move and have better facilities for the livestock business. Unfortunately it never happened and I got very cynical and bitter about it after a time. This one was kind of bleak or not pleasant to my view as I dimly recall. More on that later. In June  I will move  ahead to another block of time in my old  journals. That will cover my real cowboy girl years from June 1962 through August 1966. 

Nineteen--oh m'gosh! Was I really ever not quite there? Apparently so, or at least my old avatar was. Large sigh. I have no real recollection of that birthday. I suppose we had a dinner with some of my favorites that I asked Mom to fix and cake and ice cream. I don't recall any special gift or anything that I got  though I am sure I got cards and some odds and ends from my grandparents and a few other relatives. Mama Witt (maternal grandma) bless her heart, never ever forgot me and always commemorated special days. She was such a wonderful person and I always knew she loved me. Of others I was not so sure.

Cinder and Prez were regular mules--I know I have mentioned them often, as well as going out to the pasture to feed and check the stock there and all the other chores.  Mentioned or not, those things went on every day, regardless, and about 99% of the time it was mainly me doing it. Charlie Mike would help and Mom on occasion. Dad worked on things in fits and starts, depending on his mood, how he felt and whatever else was going on. It was often easier if he was not taking part! 

Do I dare use NO photos? I really do not have any very pertinent that have not been included more than once before. Let me see:  Okay, Charlie on Prez probably a  year or two later. Prez was a big stocky and stout mule. We all liked him. Then part of the corrals at the pasture on the 'back side' of Tuzigoot, I visited that place once or usually twice every day for a very long time.