Memoir Monday, Sept 27, 1962

 Sept 27, 1962 Thurs

Saludos, yo. I rolled out when the sun was barely up and it made my hair gold as I went down to feed. I rode Annie out and did the chores. All was okay except Taffy had cut her right forefoot. We doctored Stony’s ear and I took Prez for a lead along the highway where I picked up three pop bottles. I wasted another day. All I did was make a few paper doll things and sleep. I seem to have to sleep every afternoon. Tomorrow I must fix these Capri pants. The zipper is busting out. I rode Annie out again as it was finally beginning to clear. I do hope it is nice over the weekend so we can ride. I rearranged some of my furniture this morning for winter. After the chores and supper were done, I worked on my poems. I’ve written several new ones recently. I’ll have to make copies of them to send to Jose. I wish he’d hurry up and write but I guess he’s busy. Old LS is still up to his tricks of staring. He’s a damn smart alec. Well it’s almost 10:00 pm. Not much else to add about today. I sure wish we’d get the money deals squared away so that we could have enough to eat first and secondly be able start on our various plans and such. Oh why must things take so long??

At this time I was out of school having graduated in May. Already those days were fading into the background. In a way it was sad because the last semester of my high school days was a high point of my life for some time. I had accomplished what I set out to do and done it well, if I do say so myself. I had picked up after being out for a year and did as well or better than I had before and ended up graduating with honors. Somehow the confidence and enthusiasm that gave me faded away far too soon and I sank back into the cowboy girl rut and again thought that was really all I could do, feeling my talents and hobbies were of no value--since I often got chided harshly for 'wasting time' on them. My academic record seemed to have no value either and college was an unattainable vague dream for which I was afraid to reach.  I also worried what would happen to the animals I had invested so much time and effort in if I left.  I wish someone had kicked my butt!! But that did not happen for four years and when it finally did, I did some of the kicking myself, that and life. And several 'angels' helped me.

All the critters I mention here were mules in various stages of training and Taffy was a newer one, very light, almost palomino. I am pretty sure I have no photo of her. Prez (Presidente)  and Annie had been with us awhile and were both good reliable animals and I rode both of them often, Stony was another trained one and was due to be sold not too long after this. 

My social life was absolutely nil. I still wrote pen pals some but now in lieu of school work I continued my hobbies of writing, sewing and designing clothes, which is what the "paper doll" thing was about. It was easier to visualize how a garment or outfit would look if I drew it out, colored it and then could actually hold it up on a doll to get the effect. I did this with most of the things I made for myself or others and experimented with ideas for various fancy western outfits, very ornate and almost garish at that time. Since it was edging into the hippie grannie and pioneer style period, I also modernized historical and frontier dresses and gowns for possible contemporary applications. I sometimes wish I had tried a career in this. 

The Capri pants I had made from stripped pillow ticking--vertical slimming stripes!!--and they fit rather tight.  The zipper finally began to tear or pull out. I think they zipped in back. As for LS, I think I mentioned him before a few weeks earlier. He was a weird dude who lived down the street for awhile and kind of stalked or harassed me. I called him "Larry Scary." Finally I complained to my Dad who observed some of the guy's behavior and read him the riot act. He and his wife moved not long after that. Good riddance; he was really creepy. 

The rest refers to the endless project of trying to either fix up the land we had bought south of Bridgeport or sell it and buy a 'real ranch' somewhere to manage our livestock business much better. Unfortunately that never worked out. There were times we were operating well below the poverty level when neither Dad's writing nor the sale of various animals made the ends meet.  It was often not very pretty.

The first picture is Prez and the second is him under saddle. The third is Annie but I cannot tell for sure if it is me or Mom holding her. This was above Mescal Canyon, one ridge south  from the highway up to Jerome. Since she did not ride a lot I think it is probably me.

Memoir Monday, Sept 20, 1961

Senior year, just coasting along in many respects. School was only the necessary hours each day plus the bus rides up to Jerome and back. The rest of each 24 allowed some meals and sleeping, occasional homework, plenty of cowboy girl chores and keeping track of my pen pals. 

Sep 20, 1961

Hello. Even today wasn’t a bad day, as days go, so I guess I’m lucky. After seeing quite a few proofs I’m still convinced mine are the best..(Senior pix) Anita’s are good (she called mine ‘suave’) Everyone  liked them though. I got away fairly early. The morning classes slipped by quickly. ‘Reen and I talked during noon as usual. We inked our abstract series. Miss Mahoney made me ruin my 4^th one. It was a pretty series of lines which I messed when I redid it adding solidness. 

I had my work cut out for me this afternoon. We had nearly all our stock in the dairy. Rounding up was a job but I  managed, with Dad’s shouted “encouragement”. I’m getting in the habit of letting evenings slip buy without my accomplishing anything. That will never do. 

I got a letter from Al. He said he thought we were “sincere, wonderful people,” and  he thought he was going to like it at Pollard’s. “Gone With the Wind" is on at the drive-in. I’d sell my saddle to go see it. Oh well, maybe I will get another chance sometime. If I was on ‘friendly’ terms with some certain characters…  Well, that’s it. I’ve got to say adios here.

I had been very unhappy with the regular school photos a couple of weeks earlier and did not buy a one but I had hopes the Senior photos would be somewhat better. I was actually delighted with mine, about the only time I really liked any of my photographs. I was often caught with my ugly glasses on and disliked how my two front teeth overlapped a bit and that was just part of the things I was displeased with. I often thought if I look like that I will just give up! But for once I could be happy. Today I still can appreciate although I looked so very young and innocent, almost unformed. In many ways I cannot identify with that girl at all. That was just one of the bright spots of my senior year and there were several more; in most ways it was my best year of school, high school for sure,  and my best year for much of my young adult life. 

My friend Maureen Jewell and I had art class together. The teacher, Miss Mahoney, was kind of an odd little person, apparently a single mom with a little boy who I think was named Max. I enjoyed the class but she gave us some weird projects at times, a few of which frustrated me. I recall this was a panel of four blocks with different type of lines and shapes, mostly done in black ink with a bit of color to highlight or elaborate. I used inks in yellow and a sort of magenta. I think I have it somewhere, probably in a large case or portfolio along with many other photos, posters etc. I admit--I kept way too much and still have an inordinate amount of souvenirs and junque!

We had an ongoing issue with many of the animals we had at the pasture,  or as Charley Bryant called it, the allotment (I think that is an old ranch/cowboy term for leased graze) getting into Tavasci's area right next door. The fence was not too bad but the cattle guard where the road crossed from one into the other was often filled in to where the dirt was almost level  with the rails. A canny mule would walk right across and many did. Tavascis  usually had a mare or two in their side and even though we had mares too, mules like to go follow or make up to mares. So off they went and we had to gather them and get them on our side. Yes, a frequent job for me. I would get torqued since Dad would be hollering directions at me but I was the one on one of the mares trying to collect the strays and drive them home. He might not see what I was seeing or agree with whatever I was doing and would yell and cuss for what he perceived as errors in my effort.  Almost the story of my life in those days. 

Al was Alfred Rydell, a pen pal who had been the Navy and just got out to go to work for Art Pollard, down at Sonoita in Santa Cruz County. Pollard had racing Quarter Horses. Al was a Texan and thought that would be cool. Turned out he did not stay long and ended up going back to the  Navy but at this point he had come to meet me briefly a couple of weeks before and returned a few days later driving one of the Pollard pickups for a short visit. I was iffy--was he Prince Charming or just another toad?   

As for "Gone With The Wind",  I did see the movie several times later on but at this point had only read the book a time or three. The family library had a hardback edition with still photos from the actual movie and I was enthralled, styled myself a modern day Scarlet O'Hara and thought Clark Gable was the epitome of cool. Had I gone to the drive in with one of my local "heroes," I would probably not have seen much of the movie. ;-) . But that was about as likely as the sun rising over Mingus the next morning. Date was a four letter word in my parents' rules and so I didn't.  

For spits and giggles,  a snapshot of Al with his sister's little boy and my senior portrait.  He as nice looking--about 6'2" or so with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile but actually really a stuffy sort of guy. After the visit I walked out to the truck with him and he shook hands in saying goodbye?!?

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.