Memoir Monday, Mar 27, 1965

The more things stayed the same, even as they changed in little increments from one day to another. March was winding down then as it is now and I was anxious for spring and warm weather to arrive. Looking back, I realize this present year of a damp chilly spring is not that unusual. Climate has changed some but the cycles still go on.

Mar 27, 1965 Sat

Got up right at 7:00 and fed. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the pasture chores. We left for our look-see about 9:00. Got over to Humboldt and found the place okay and then had to wait for the salesman. We found a dozen pop bottles for our time anyway. The place is disappointing as they always are. Oh, I guess it would be okay in a necessity  but I can’t see stretching and giving so much up and having to sacrifice twenty years just to get that. The range is awfully abused and we saw very few cattle.  Nope, that’s not it as far as I am concerned. I’d really like to be on 66, myself, or near the ATSF somewhere if we’re to stay in Arizona. But I’m not willing to crawl like a whipped pup and accept some turkey of a “ranch.” Ruth sent us $1000 so now we can pay the Fee mortgage interest if we must. Maybe we can stall a bit though. Something is going to happen. I’m more sure than ever now. It may be good or bad but things are going to change. Wish I had heard from Dusty today but maybe next week. Have to get used to him being slow now; better late than never. We either win or lose soon and I really don’t care very much. Just so this ends.

The endless 'ranch hunt' went on, basically through the summer of 1966 when the dominoes began to tip and then started to fall. That still took a year to reach the final collapse but it was coming. The pending disturbance was one I could feel. I really recall very little about this place, the most recent to be considered. It seems the house was small and not in the best repair and as I observed here, the range was not in good shape. I think it had been dry the prior fall and winter despite the spring's tendency to be stormy and chilly and of course it was not yet warm enough for things to begin turning green.

The northern cross-state highway was properly I-40 by then but still seemd like "Route 66" to many of the old timers, of which I was almost one myself, by now nearly a twenty-year resident of Arizona. Of course the highway really meant the paralleling Santa Fe  transcontinental main line which was a critical feature in my world at that point. There were more branch and connecting lines then but those tracks were very important to me. 

Finances were the usual mess. The folks had taken a mortgage on at least part of the twenty acres down the valley and  a payment was probably due. As so often happened, Dad whined to his siblings and they reluctantly coughed up. To this day I am ashamed and grieved that my parents, two people with college degrees and supposedly above average capabilities and opportunites, fell into this appalling state of extreme poverty. Rather than try to actively work their way out of that hole, they just kept digging it deeper and then seemed to expect they deserved to be 'bailed out' because of course none of this dreadful situation was their fault! In retrospect I am still furious.  Ruth was my dad's next older sister and was working as a teacher in a big high chool in Sacramento at that time. She may have been some kind of principal or dean; I do not know. Anyway, none  of Dad's siblings were "rich," even Uncle Dan who had a successful medical practice then.

I knew I was living my present life on "borrowed time" to some degree--we all were--and that  major change was inevitable. Somehow I still had vague hopes it would be positive. Perhaps all could have been redeemed for a short while yet but that was certainly far beyond my ability to accomplish, however much I might wish to do so. The intensifying stress and continuous intrafamily drama was corrosive and hard on the nerves. It was eroding me in a dozen ways.

In the last letter or two I had received, Dusty had spoken a bit about the difficulties he'd been having and the struggle with bad weather and many other delays and detours that impeded the progress of his gang on the work they were assigned in Flagstaff. I finally realized though he might think of me often, finding the time and energy to write a letter was challenging. That eased my mind  a bit and I tried to cultivate more patience and not become doubtful and feel abandoned when I did not hear from him every couple of weeks. How useful it would have been to have a mobile phone and be able to reach out with a few keystrokes to communicate. Such things did not yet exist and of course I would not have had one in any case. We are so spoiled today!

If I had owned a modern phone I might have snapped photos of some of those "ranches" we visited but I did not have film to burn and it did not even occur to me. There was really little to take pictures of! So I will snatch a few odd shots out of my old files for visual 'tax' of sorts. These were all taken later, in 1966-67 when I was at NAU,  but I am sure it looked similar when B&B #6 was there.  The first is a truck much like theirs. The next two are part of a work train or outfit parked on a siding out in the main yard east of town. And the last is fairly wide angle view of the Flagstaff yard. Yard in terms of railroads can be a misleading term--there are no fences or neatly contained area like around a house! Instead there are a number of tracks connected with switches and some stubs or spurs where an oufit or 'bad order' equipment may be parked.

Memoir Monday, March 20, 1965

 The first half of 1965 seemed like a sequence of mostly dull, difficult  and often depressing days. Caught up in my Eldest Daughter mindset, I would fret about many things I felt needed to be fixed or made better but for the most part I could not accomplish that. I often felt  my parents were not stable, sane or rational and as badly as I often wanted to just vanish, I felt I had to do my best to take care of the animals and to some degree,  my two brothers since I was the eldest. Charlie Mike was 13 1/2 and would graduate from 8th grade in May. Alex was six and had started first grade the previous fall.  I'm sure Mom and Dad would vehemently deny it,  but I often believed we three were pretty much left to raise ourselves and as the oldest, about to turn 22, I perceived it was my duty to do as much for the boys as I could.

Mar 20, 1965, Sat

            I got up about the usual hour and did my morning chores. “They” had a row this morning about letters versus laundry. I hate those!! I rode Annie out to do the morning chores . All was okay. Up for mail. I didn’t dare to hope but I got a letter. Love is a horrible thing but I was so glad. Came home and watered everyone and helped Charlie Mike clean the corrals. Came up about 1:45 and helped Mom with the wash. We went out early to give worm medicine to the pasture stock. They all ate it perfectly, much to my surprise. I had envisioned a gruesome task indeed. We got done quite early and came in. I played more operetta records, drew some designs and got all cleaned up for a change. Viva. I started to reply to Dusty’s letter but it was too late so had to quit. Better take me off to bed pronto as it must be 11:00. A scandalous hour to be up, but it is Saturday. Dusty is not feeling well. He shouldn’t get the flu with his asthma. Wish I could be there to take care of him. He needs me, really.

The weather and how I felt notwithstanding, it was very rare that I did not get up and take care of the horses and mules we had in Clarkdale first thing in the morning. At times I also fixed some kind of breakfast and if it was cold, built up a fire in the wood stove in the living room. Weekdays I then went to the pasture, riding alone unless we were driving to haul hay or do some other extra job. Often Mom drove but I did most of the work. That was easier than if Dad drove --because he always saw things that needed to be taken care of right now and usually viewed them as evidence I had sluffed off and told me so in no uncertain terms.

Of course I looked forward to getting mail and while any letter was a treat, one from Dusty was special. For the time being, his outfit was at Flagstaff and they had a series of problems to include one of the material cars (an old wooden boxcar) catching fire--I am not sure the particulars but it was just next to his. I think they got it put out but most of the car was a total loss. While there, they tore down an old stock yard and built a new one and did a bunchof other bulding and repair work. The weather was mostly wet and cold with snow late into what should have been spring,. It wasn't as bad down in the Verde Valley but we did have more rain than usual. Puddles, mud, sloppy corrals and pens and slippery roads to the pasture... Made everything harder. 

We gave the better quality horses worm medicine at regular intervals. I am not sure now what parasites it was to prevent. It was a powder that we mixed with grain or sweet feed and water to make a kind of mush. Sometimes they seemed to gobble it down with no problems but at times one or  more would  be finicky and not want to eat it. That was always "my fault" or at least that's how it felt to me from the bawling out I got. This time it went well and I was vastly relieved. It was aways good to get done and come in early--I could then do a few more things that I needed or wanted to for myself or my other interests which was a treat.

All this time, I was often worried about Dusty. He did have asthma which could be severe and with the harsh weather, and I felt sure not eating or sleeping as he should, he got colds and such as often as I did and I was very troubled about that.  He worried about me too and wished he could be closer to help me out. It was a bit ironic I guess; we both were having a rugged time of things but were unable to do much to make anything easier for each other. I guess it helped to know someone did care. I do not remember whether the equinox was on the 20th or 21st that year but I was surely hoping that real spring would arrive soon and with it an end to the rain, less wind and warmer temperatures! 

I will try to find a few photos. This was not a time when we took many. I don't have a lot of shots of Alex. but here is one, maybe a year or so earlier. The boys were both always thin; well, I was too, and to this day Charlie Mike hates short pants and never wears them.  I don't recall that the grown up Alex cared.  Next is both boys, a little better dressed since they were going to school I am sure. And last, Alex and me with one of the donkey foals.  I think this was Robin, the offspring of a jenny named Lila. Baby donkeys are so cute!

Memoir Monday, Mar 13, 1965

 Another one of those kind of wheel-spinning days. There were so  many of them  and I was almost chronically disgusted and depressed though there were bright spots here and there. 

Mar 13, 1965 Sat

            I stayed in bed late again but not too. Got up at 8:00 and made biscuits for breakfast. They were big fat ones and everyone liked them. We drove out together to do the chores. Drove up for mail--nothing!! Dusty, how could you? I was counting on you. Should’ve known better. I did the midday chores--a Plymouth station wagon passed, honked twice. Was it? I don’t think it was Moonspinner…  We ate lunch and talked--endlessly. Oh, I could just scream, throw dishes on the floor and pitch hissy fits  At 2:30 we finally went to get hay. I saw Maureen in Cottonwood. Don’t know what she’s up to lately. Got thirteen bales of alfalfa with some grass, real heavy. We all drove out again. Fed the herd up on the hillside this time. Got the home chores done with the aid of some small Indian girls. They are cute, sharp little creatures  I think I really want to have a boarding school, camp, foster home or some sort of deal like that. We listened to records all evening. Mom felt bad so I did the dishes. Supper was not much. I drew a luxurious 4,000 sq ft house and began another explanatory letter to Dusty. He’s got to fit in some way. He could. Oh, I wish.  If we don’t do something by summer I’m not sure what I’ll do but I really can’t stay here forever. None of us can. Where are you tonight, Dusty? Were you down here today?  I must check the coffee can tomorrow I guess. I’ve got to see him soon and give him the story etc.

"Talks" were the bane of my existence. Normally it was a) a conflict that Mom and Dad were having  and often got pretty unpleasant b) a 'lecture' or bawling out that Charlie Mike and I got for failing to do something we were supposed to or failing to do it 'right' in one way or another or c) debating some wild-ass plan that deep down I knew was utterly futile and useless but at times would briefly awaken a small spark of hope and an effort to believe it might work out. The problem was, the talks were always belabored to death and repeated a dozen times until I felt we were ridimg a dead horse that was beaten to a mush. The main speaker was always Dad and he was a total master of overkill and followed a complete refusal to listen to much of anything in opposition or doubt.  

I am vague on who the little girls were, We did have some neighbors who had moved into the vacant or semi-abandoned  lower  Clarkdale houses from the small shacks and huts up Bitter Creek toward the cement plant, an area that apparently belonged to the local Yavapai Apache tribe. Eventally they regained lots of property in the Verde Valley. The children seemed to be interested in horses and at times would be eager to help me--often more of a problem than a real aid but they tried and were not obnoxiou kids.  When kids were good, I really enjoyed working with and trying to teach them some and did entertain  notions of making this part of a future career.

I do not recall what was bothering Mom besides the usual conflicts but I helped on supper and cleaned up afterwards. I really did not mind that as a rule.So much time had now passed since I finished school and so many wishful dreams and plans had fallen apart. I knew I had to leave eventually, preferably sooner than later, but still had no idea how I could support myself or what I ought to do. The overall situation was growing more desparate and hopeless as time went on and some kind of final disaster seemed inevitable. Indeed  it was, but at that point was still some time in the future.

I am not sure where the message can was at this point. Later I located it down at the end of the river road where my trail dropped off into the river bottom to go along the bank and then cut through a field over to the pasture. An old hollow stump was a good place for it but at this time, I am not sure. I never knew if Dusty had been in the area that day or not but I imagine the answer was no. I had now not seen him since mid January and it seemed a very long time, but I had weeks more to wait, the rest of March, all of April and almost all of May. 

A few photos, first two views from the west side, looking down at the river and across to the pasture which was below that ridge on the far side. The river road ended just below the gray area which was the tailings pond, irrigated to keep dust down. At the end of Tuzogoot is where the trail went down into those cottonwood trees along the river. .Next is Mom at about this time and then Dad with the 2nd Ford pickup; Charlie Mike was checking a tire or maybe airing it up.

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Memoir Monday, March 6, 1965

March came in with fair weather it seems. But I was getting sick. I made it thru the day at least, but not in great shape. 

Mar 6, 1965 Sat

            Got up with a sore throat and a sick, shaky feeling but stumbled gallantly along. We did all the chores and got Cinder in.  The latter took a bit of doing and some time but it is on my shield or with it when I go mule catching. So I led him home on foot. Charlie Mike went up for mail. None for me. I watered everyone and then Dad and I worked on Cinder. Did the noon chores and ate lunch before going over to Patterson’s for a load of hay. We got an honest weighed ton of three wire alfalfa bales. Seventeen weighted 1970 pounds. That is the first honest ton of hay we have had in a coon’s age. The only way to buy hay is to weigh it. Soon it was chore time. I took my temperature, it was 99.6 but I rode Cinder out anyway. We were nearly done with the chores when a pickup and trailer drove up. They brought Jolly and Happy back. We unloaded them. Jolly was pretty banged up and hot so we had to walk her cool. I got awfully cold and shivery. She sure is lovely. I like her with a full mane. She is really a beauty. Happy is the same ugly duckling but a little heavier. They both seem to be in season now. Can’t figure why they did not breed them. I went to bed right after supper, feeling like I had really had it. Got tonsillitis I guess. Ugh. I hate to be sick.

I guess we did not have a saddle along  as we had driven to the pasture. I did not trust riding Cinder bareback although he was a good little mule so I walked him home. I am not sure now but guesstimate it was maybe 1.5 miles from the pasture to Clarkdale. I think we needed to work on his feet. He needed careful trimming and some modified shoes to keep him sound. Going back later that afternoon, I did ride  but we also apparently drove to haul some of the new hay, Patterson's Feed Store was not economical but they never sold mouldy or bad hay! 

It  had been a long time since we took the two young Quarter Horse mares to New Mexico back in September. Why they were returned six months later I am not sure and they had not been bred as they were supposed to be. Another deal that fell apart for obscure reasons--at least obscure to me. 

After a bit of a struggle of a day, I went to bed right after  supper. I'm not sure if I was better the next day or not. Colds, tonsillitis and virus bugs seemed to really seek me out during these months. Just part of the routine and ongoing troubles that hung around like a gray cloud. I guess I was a bit of a hypochondriac since I seemed to complain a lot about not feeling good. Well, that tended to be a family trait anyway!

A few pix--not too exciting! First is Happy Bars about this time. Her profile was a bit odd but she was not bad looking, just no beauty.  She was a buckskin. Next is Jolly Babe--she was gray and as sweet tempered as she was pretty. Finally the old cowboy girl and the pickup that saw so much use in those years--actually there were two and this was the second one. I was better dressed than usual, clearly going somewhere.

Memoir Monday, Feb 27, 1965

Again the weather was a bit nicer than what I  have seen locally in recent days. But even then there were windy, cold, gray and wet days that had to be survived as best I could. What does not kill you makes you stronger perhaps? Maybe that is why and how I still keep on keeping on.

Feb 27, 1965 Sat

            I got up and fed etc. We had to change a tire before we drove out but were fairly early anyway.  No problems . Saddled Annie and rode up for mail. There was a passel--an envelope from Judy, a letter from Flagstaff--Dusty of course. My hands shook as I opened it. “Dear Angel… “ Oh it was a relief, and so wonderful. Four pages from the one I love and every word worth so much, even the misspelled ones. He bawled me out a little but sweetly. (I probably had whined a little too much on some bad days) I led Leo first. He felt pretty high. Chief next, and then Lyno to the pasture. Put Annie up and quit at 1:30. After lunch everyone rested and I wrote to my beloved. After last night’s thoughts I couldn’t desert him for anything. He has been having trouble. The folks did the chores tonight. I made cookies and would have done more but Mom refused to tell me what to do.  She won’t let me help. I played records, wrote Mary and loafed this evening. I have paid $20 for $60 worth of records so far. I may try to sell two to pay for the Moffo and Franchi one (Dream Duet).  Dusty’s letter made today for me, really. He is still in Flag now and may be for several more weeks apparently. Somehow I’ve got to convince him how I feel. Maybe he knows. He says the only thing that has kept him in line the past two months is me, whatever that means. I need to talk to him again but I guess I can’t. I couldn’t even if he was here, really. Well, someday… Anyway he wrote me and he is all right. Maybe I can get an answer or two from him now. I will try.

Changing tires as I may have mentioned a week or two back was a regular chore. We were driving poor tires on the pickup and flats were common. Dad usually jacked up the vehicle and switched the wheels but Charlie Mike and I manned the pump to be sure the replacement was up to correct inflation. If you ever had to use one of those old manual pumps, you know what a taxing job that can be. Bless the inventor of the air compressor!!

Getting the mail was a job I took care of often and it was not one I minded. Many days nothing came for me but letters were always a treat and fun. Those many years of pen pals kind of assured I would get something many days.The Mary mentioned was one. I had several friends named Mary over the years but it is a common name.  And at this point, waiting for one from Dusty--and being rewarded-- was a real bright spot. It was only two weeks from the Valentine and his promise to write soon but it had felt very long. I really had no one else to confide in or even complain to, and I suspect I abused that at times. He was always patient with me there.

It was a novelty for the folks to do the chores and I am  not sure why that happened this day. Not to have to go out to the pasture either riding or driving and apparently not even do the home part was a mini-vacation. So I cooked. I would have made supper but mostly Mom did not ask or even let me help in the kitchen very much. I rarely fussed or complained when it was necessay. By this point I could make several main dishes and considered myself a master cookie chef!

The record I mentioned was one I had recently received. It featured two fairly well known opera and classical-pop singers of the time doing duets of operetta and musical comedy love songs. The whole family except perhaps Charlie Mike, who was getting more into rock by then, liked it. I played that Bogo variant game with RCA record club for all it was worth!

I still had my spells of doubt or fear that Dusty really did not care or want to stay in touch, much less see me again. I was also curious, seeking to know *everything* about him. I asked questions and sometimes he answered them, usually in a few very simple words. Really he gave me almost no reason to fear or wonder or doubt. That was just me, where and how I was at this troublesome time in my life.

Pictures: What fits and has not been used several times? I'll go peek into that flashdrive. Okay, looking to the southwest from my backyard. Probably early spring with snow on Mingus. The old middle school or junior high building was still standing then. Then Clarkdale, getting very desolate with many vacant houses in the lower town and such a sad, depressed look by 1965. And a more recent view--this was the Post Office in those days and I would tie my mount at a light pole about where that tree is and go in the door to the left of that walkway. One box we had was 964. I forget a few others. I know the current PO is over where the shop classes for Clarkdale/Mingus High were then or was last time I looked. 

Memoir Monday, Feb 20, 1965

 Time to travel back again, many years, many miles... Mom's birthday had been the previous day, probably passed rather quietly but I may have made a cake (chocolate, her fave) or cooked dinner for her. Still, life soon went on in its normal routine way. We were not doing large celebrations and generally had not for a long time.

Feb 20, 1965 Sat

            I got right up and did my work like a good girl.  Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out after a biscuit breakfast. I saddled Annie up and got the mail. Only a letter from Laura for me.  Dusty, how could you? I rode over to Cottonwood. Read in the waiting room. Dr Joe P got a large charge out of my gun. I went home via the pasture and let the mares out. When I got home, I ate lunch and then watered everyone good. Took about an hour off and loafed in the ‘spring fever’ sun. It sure felt good. I rode Annie out and led Buzz along for exercise. Dusty has been on my mind all day. I’m wondering where he is and all. I’m wondering why he hasn’t written. I have had the feeling the last two days that very soon my life is going to be changed drastically. I don’t know how, when or why but I have that feeling. Spent the evening playing records and writing to Judy--17 pages, no less. Now it is getting up toward 11:00. Got to haul hay tomorrow and what all else I don’t know. Plenty, doubtless. Well, I don’t care. No mail for two days now. Why did I ever get myself into this? I’m the world’s biggest fool but here I am. And I wouldn’t change for the world. Guess I am really a trollop at heart not to be ashamed or sorry. So be it. G’night all. Dream of me, Dusty mine, and I will dream of you.

Mentioning biscuits for breakfast. I often made them--usually drop biscuits as I really did not like rolling out and cutting. Lazy me! I always called them "porcupine biscuits" but that may have been coined by Charlie Mike or Alex. With honey or jam they were a small treat. 

Dental problems were frequent. I probably had a toothache again and needed a fillng or even a tooth pulled. Dr Joe Pecharich was a family friend and did a lot of care for us pro bono. He was a kind man but big and seemed heavy handed to me, not gentle, and I probably left fingerprints in the arms of that chair many times, trying not to wail or scream. But he was generous with pain pills for me. Milder early opiates or substitutes I think.  I carried my sidearm most of the time when I was riding which was nearly daily and often included a trek to Cottonwood. I wore that old .32 right into the dental office and Dr Joe thought that was both funny and cool. 

Yes I had begun to think or feel my life would change sooner rather than later; that was only partly true. But events by late summer actually saw or caused some wheels to begin to turn although the final result was still more than a year away. I still set myself some deadlines to leave etc. that I never met or followed up on them. Still, a range of people and events began to break the inertia. 

The weather must have been then like it was here yesterday. Those first spring-feeling days were always so welcome and such a blessing.  The gray, dull, cold, windy or wet ones seemed to be prevalent and always a burden and a downer. With the work that had to be done regardless, they were at times pretty grim, bleak and hard. 

Judy, and to some degree my other long-term pen pal, Linda, and I exchanged many very long letters. We joked about "Crime and Punishment" letters: a crime to write and a penalty to read. But they were not, really. That sharing meant a lot to us. For various reasons, we were all often lonely and feeling we somehow did not fit in or were not where we really belonged. 

It is hard to find photos for this period, really. I did take a lot when I was out riding and today am glad I did. That area has changed so much and in time I left it to go into a very different life and now, despite the anguish and struggles, I feel a lot of nostalgia. There were many good hours, even some good days. SO:  1. Looking across the old TAPCO power plant and Coons' ranch. 2. From the hills east of the highway, looking up the river. 3. From beside the Clark Memorial Bldg looking across Bitter Creek at rail yard and old smelter --last stack still standing. 4. From the hills west of highway, view of lower Clarkdale. I am shocked whenever I go back how different it all looks.  So '64-'66  for these; how long it has been!

Memoir Monday, Feb 13, 1965

Sometimes I just pulled up my socks and said  I was not going to admit doom or gloom for the whole day. And sometimes it worked. The weather must not have been bad that day for it would have been  much  harder to stay cheerful!

Feb  13, 1965 Sat

            I awoke this morning and decided that this was going to be a good day. It was. I went down to feed and then ate and got ready to go to the pasture. We did all the chores and June came by and talked about hay etc. She has a lot of sad stories and wants the money. We fixed the mud hole and will do more soon. Came home and discussed some. I rode up for mail--a letter came from Uncle Dan with a $100 check and a letter from Governor Goddard. For me the TMC Bulletin, Nevada college data and…a Valentine from Dusty!! I nearly turned a handspring right there in the PO. Came home and rebuilt the little ponies’ feedbox with Charlie Mike. That was a major job. Finally got that and the noon chores done. After lunch we drove to June’s to argufy about hay. By talking horses for an hour we finally got 38 more bales for a total of $70--(for 38 + 30). That’s a pretty fair deal. It took some doing though. We did the pasture chores briefly on the way home and Charlie Mike helped me unload. We finished the home chores and came gladly in. Had supper quite late. I managed to get a letter written to Tee and that was about all. I’ve kept looking at Dusty’s Valentine all day. It is so pretty. He said he’d “right soon” so I’ll be looking for a letter next week…and looking hard. I was really thrilled anyway. So I get two this year but only one that matters. Better get me off to bed. There’s lots to do tomorrow. This morning I caught Annie and put her in the corral. Charlie Mike and I found two bottles down in the field too. Manana will be busy all day I know. Today was long, but really not bad. I’m so relieved. The Valentine was mailed Thurs in Flag.

Of course the chores went on as usual but we did drive out and then talked to June and later went over to Dead Horse Ranch and came home with some needed hay for a moderate price.  In between there were the constant repair jobs, filling in mud holes that got stomped out when the wet times happened, and rebuilt gates and feedboxes. I got pretty good at picking out boards to replace a chewed up or broken one and geting it nailed or wired back in where it needed to go. Charlie Mike was catching on to this sort of task too, and we were learning how to work as a team and cooperate  He was to turn fourteen this year but that was in the fall. Unloading hay was not fun; it got stacked in a tin building that was probably intended to be a garage and it got very stuffy and dusty up near the ceiling when we stacked high and you could bang your head or scrape your back on the beams and had to work hunched over. This batch was not the huge heavy bales anyway so we could manage them okay,

TMC was The Mustang Club. They were devoted to trying to save wild horses in the southwest and get them trapped humanely and then up for adoption. My friend Shirl (Shirley Coulter Atchley had given me a membership. They had a monthly newsletter or bulletin and several members advertised stationary and other thngs they had designed and made for sale. I never did but thought about it; finding the time and getting supplies were the roadblocks. I maybe could have advertised my western shirts since I had gotten pretty good at making them by this time.

Finding pop bottles was always a good thing. I can't remember what the recycle refund price was--just a few cents--but we valued every penny we could earn that way. I am not sure who I was riding at this point since I mention getting Annie in at the pasture. It may have been Prez or one of the smaller mules. I swapped them around a lot as we now had quite a few that were reasonably reliable.

Of course the Valentine from Dusty made my day. In an instant, I got over my pique at him for not writing for awhile. As I said, I looked at it over and over--it was pretty and sweet and a surprise, as well. He mentioned he'd write (spelled 'right') soon but it was actually a couple of weeks and the euphoria faded a bit in the meantime. But I treasured this token. I found it in my keepsake box which I finally got into after Jim had passed away, probably in spring 2004.

Pictures: The Valentine.  Me with Annie and a mule called Mindy. Annie was tall but not quite as tall as Tina. I was about 5'7 3/4" and long legged enough to get up on the taller ones easier than when I was smaller and younger. And Charlie Mike with Ringo. Ringo was the only male in a litter Bonnie, a  roadside rescue, produced so he became the family dog for some time; actually he was Charlie Mike's. This was probably spring 1964.