....Hangin' out with the Boys in their Journey out West....

                       
                     We last left Jack Long & John Henry at a cross-roads in and around Mid-West in South Wyoming, setting their sights on the next job that might suit them at that time. Just getting back from a horrendous job that could have landed them in Jail or worse! But as we learn more about these two, that would be a somewhat normal experience.....

            We were at a junction, both in the present state of mind and also in our lives, to just what we should be doing. Right now we have to decide which road to take in order to make a living out here. Henry wasn't much help, since he was more of a loner than I and could care less what or which way to go, as long as he got paid and didn't get shot. So most of the time I was the one to chose. 
         As we traveled down a more well beaten trail, I could feel something just wasn't right. I just wanted to head out and find a group of wild horses to wrangle or a heard of cattle to bring to an Auction.
        Lucky that we got an early start, the afternoon Sun was starting to shine full, and the heat from it really wasn't what we needed now. We picked up the pace a bit just to get further down the trail to try and decide which way to go...it was going to be East toward Oklahoma, to see about some cattle, or Southwest for another group of horses, that a couple big Ranchers would put a nice size bid on at Auction.
        My thoughts  favored the horses, they tend to be cleaner and not as much trouble. They also brought more at Auction in lesser numbers, then the cattle, where the dust and dirt always flew, and would have to make an extra cut in pay so that the other wranglers got a decent payday. The Horses, we usually could handle ourselves, with maybe one extra man to cover ourselves in the open Range.

      Now the Sun gave us some relief by going behind some clouds, good in one way, but were we in for an afternoon storm..? We worked our way though a patch of trees and bushes, before it opened up to an open area of sand and tumble weeds. This was not a good sign. We had to continue in hopes of finding a better place to camp, I wasn't about to back track to that thicket, which would have given us some relief, and besides it was still too early by our standards to make camp.
      We worked our way over the sandy hillside, staying on the knoll so that we could see both sides, keeping one eye out for a better way, and the other out for Indians. There were some friendly ones but also hostile's that didn't like people from the other 'World' invading their land. As an Eastern Indian, like Henry, we could honor that belief, but as a hard wrangling Cowboy, trying to etch-out some kind of life out here, well now that was a different story. 
     
     Soon we made it to what appeared to be a spot where some have passed before. It didn't take long to notice that it did have some type of campsite not long ago. As we made our way over, I could make out a slight groan, that only a weak and desperate human could make. Henry heard it too, and motioned me over to an open spot, subject to all of Natures elements. There, only a few feet away was what looked like a head with no body visible. As we approched on foot, being skeptical of what the Hell it could have been but not a human head. Henry got close enough to exclaim that it was some Black guy. Well it wasn't just any Black guy, it was Grover, the man we pretty much saved his ass back in that small town.
    When he finally came to his senses, and had to concentrate on what was happening, he gave out a loud roar. Only a man like that could have survived being buried up to his head, left to die by a tribe of hostile Comanches. The story goes that this tribe of Indians believed that the Black man, since they don't see too many out there, had special powers, that couldn't not be controlled. So in stead of killing them they leave them to die on their own, thinking that the Great Spirit they posses does not come after them.

    Needless to say Grover was overwhelmed that we got there in time. He didn't have much more time. The top of his head was raw from the Sun, and his eyes could barely stay open. Maybe that Indian Folk Lore had some truth to it.
     After a time where we had to pitch camp and tend to Grover, he told us that after we saw him the time in that small town, where we saved hi the first time, he headed back east where he ran into his old boss Edmond Pierce, the ship magnet from Boston. He was talked into joining him and his Wagon Train, going out West, to try another venture that his brother in-law told him about in California.
     They got this far when they got ambushed by those Indians, and before he knew it Pierce had gotten away, leaving him behind. 

  
   
     

....Can You Clearly See...?

          I am going to post a poem that I wrote back in the '70's. It is one among many that I have written in hopes of sharing what Nature means to me, having grown up along side a River.

                                       Can You Clearly See

                        Rocks in the water, a bend in the Stream,
                a flow which enters the River.....
                Can you Clearly see, a home is there for many,
                along the Banks and within the Rushing Water....

                Can one Clearly see, two Snakes winding along side,
                one of which is Swimming, the other just to glide.

                We can Clearly see that it makes it's way 
                through the Valleys, beneath the towering Hills;
                a passage for all  to Venture,
                but in numbers, it may Kill...!

                The water has become Muddy, 
                from what we are not sure, but with some help
                and understanding we can make it Pure....

                Can man Defy Nature, of which an animal cannot afford,
                or shall we Stop, Look & Listen....
                something we should have done before.

                The River is our Home, for many it shall be,
                a place for life & happiness....
                that now you can Clearly see....!

   

.....more Museings from my Auntie.....

                 As I have done in the past, I've added the Writings of my Aunt, who was born on the same day as myself in May. She was the youngest girl out of five sister's and four brothers, my father being the youngest of them all. Aunt Connie would always try and get my dad in trouble, as they were the ones who played together the most. 
        Now her next sister older, was my Aunt Rachel. She too was close to Connie. This next entry is from Connie, telling a few things about Rachel as they grew up in the 1930's.....

        She was a sickly kid, at one time Mama was worried, afraid of T. B. Here are things that I remember of Rachel and things we did together.

      In Warren we walked from Above All to the one room  center School on dirt roads and barefoot. We ate our lunches together and played games with other kids. At 4:00 P.M. we walked home again on a dirt road a mile and a half with the rest of our family. The boys usually racing ahead. One Winter's day we were let out early and she said she knew a short cut, through the woods and over stone walls. It was the longest 'short cut' I've ever taken! I was seven and the snow was three feet deep. She had to come back and help me, and decided the short cut wasn't such a good idea.
    
     One time she Becky [ another sister] and I were fooling on the stairs and she fell knocking the breath out of her....so there was quite a commotion as to who pushed her. She blamed Becky, but I think it was all of us....since those steps were steep and narrow.

     She and I were home from school one spring day and Mama couldn't find Nate [my father] who was about five at the time. We ran through the fields calling his name, and finally to the pond, but no sight of him. We were sweating, breathless and frightened. At that time the mailman came and we were going to ask him for help, when Nate came out of the new little garage being built. He went there there and crawled behind some lumber and fell asleep. The Model T woke him and he came out rubbing his eyes oblivious to what was going on.

     Rachel and I picked wild strawberries together, and huckleberries. She would practice teaching when the weather confined us, when she wasn't reading. She taught me how to print my name and write it, also taught us the Alphabet. I couldn't wait to learn to read, and once I learned a few words, I drove her nuts by continually asking what this and that word was. She certainly helped me in High School so I could understand Algebra enough to get a passing grade. She graduated from Washington High that year as Salutatorian just two points less than the Valedictorian!

    The first two years of Busing was in a long truck like they used to peddle vegetables, with flaps on the sides to keep out the snow and rain. On good days they were rolled up. No door on the back just open. In the Winter our feet got so cold, we had Chilbains when we finally got to school. Rachel had to wear High Top old ladies shoes, and how she hated them. I had to wear boys shoes, I was rough on shoes. We had lunches in the same pail, usually plain bread and butter, or cheese or dried beef. Sometimes mother would give us a custard cup and a spoon. Rachel and Harley [my uncle next up from my father] got into a fight once and he kicked the dinner pail over which broke the cup and we had soggy sandwiches! 
   In High School, she helped me with my Algebra homework...I just couldn't understand how it worked! Then she went to Danbury normal school, then after becoming a teacher, taught her first two years in Brookfield. 
   On a class trip to Washington D.C. she bought me a new outfit to wear. Our father brought us to church and mother made us go to Vacation Bible School, probably just to get rid of us. I think we went two years.
   Rachel worked summers at Lake Waramaug State Park selling ice cream, etc. One evening while Pa was on vacation..he was the first Park Ranger in the State...we took the State Truck and drove to Ruths, our other sister. The brakes gave out, but she held it in the road! Another time we went up Rabbit Hill road and down Couch road, she hit a boulder by the side of the narrow road, which knocked the truck out of line. So when we got home, he had thought Harley had done it. [ poor Harley got blamed for everything, my mother blamed him for taking the Dandlaline Wine that I had taken from the 'cold cellar' when I was about thirteen]

       Rachel taught years in Warren, then went to Sharon and taught at the Center School forth grade. There she met George Stone. He lived in Port Chester and she and I would go there and visit him.
    
       We went to the Radio City Music Hall one time. Another time driving to Port Chester in November for Thanksgiving  dinner, she was going pretty fast, there were ice patches on the road, she hit one and the car turned right around with its rear against the a post, damaging the gas tank. We did have enough to get back to Danbury and left the car to be fixed, and grabbeda train back to Port Chester.

    In the summer we would walk around the three mile triangle in an afternoon...one time we found George Clarke hanging from a church window, dead...!
   We went horse back riding together, alto she didn't like it as much as I did. One time she was on a little black Mare, rode it to the watering trough and when the Mare had her drink, whirled around made it back into the barn knocking Rachel off into the drop, ruining her new light colored jacket. Once we rode up the hill to Jack corner Road heading for Warren, the horses were galloping, Rachel was ahead of me, her left stirrup broke and she tumbled into a pool of water near Bill Smalley's house. They brought us in until she could get over the shock, then we returned home, she probably walked.

    In 1935 or '36 we took a trip thru Vermont, New Hampshire and a ferry across Lake Champlain. Cabins a dollar per night. Went Lake Ticonderoga and didn't even go in. Saw Lake George and came home. Think we were only gone three days, so I think mother was too happy to see us back so soon.
    We went to Cape Cod, to Maine and to Ottawa...at different times of course...After she was married, she would often have us down for a big dinner. When Linda [ Connie's oldest daughter] was born she and two other teachers came to see me in the Hospital and what a pleasant surprise it was.

    When Harley was confined to a Home in new Britain/Hartford, they took me to see him several times.
    One year she went on a trip with Andy [ next brother up from Harley] I think they got as far as Texas.

    Rachel was operated on for cancer, and two years later July 6th 2001 she just went to sleep Tom, her son, was with her and taking care of her. She didn't know what she would ever had done without him.

    I miss going to see her, although I didn't go that often but I missed the phone calls and just knowing I had a sister that I could relate to.


      I'm writing this on the birthday of one of my sister's who passed away down in Miami in 1995, she was just 49. We all have families we look up to in hopes of them being there for us, I would like to think  that just the fact that they are in our thoughts brings some relief......just as my Aunt said at the end,   " I miss going to see her ...I miss the phone calls...and just knowing I had a sister that I could relate to..."

       .....Peace and love to all.............
     
      

Pleading the Fifth....

        
          Having made it this far at this point in time, having a week that took a little longer than expected, I came across what now seems to be a day where I can take in what seems to be most relevant to the circumstances that took place.
     First of all I had the distinct experience to get a procedure done on my back in hopes of relieving some of the pain that I have to endure with my Sciatica problem. At times before that I always thought maybe a 'Fifth' would be the cure-all. Not at all the case, I would have to go through with the Epidural  shots recommended, since any operation was not recommended, and was find with me.
    After having that procedure done, I soon found myself in a better mental state, if not physical, for the time being. I was able to function for a few days without much pain, but still skeptical of any long term benefits. Sure enough I did have a recurrence with a substantial amount of pain.
    
    Now at the same time I found on my computer this young Cheerleader, who for reasons beyond my belief, thought it was just fine to go to Africa and kill large wild game, some of which was protected. I took it upon my self to declare her the dumbest, most disrespectful Bitch on the planet! Going to the sites that had shown her actions...the first was Channel 10, CBS. Then got on her fb site, where she proclaimed justification of her actions. All of which just did not fit in the realm of the goodness of society that is trying to protect these wonderful, magnificent beast of beauty. 
    In the period of 'ranting' all over fb trying to find supporters, I did come across one I didn't know & now 'friended' so that we could get more of the word out. Eventually, fb did make my post available, and I finally heard back from others their displeasure in the cheerleaders actions. By the end of the day, I had found out that her site was taken down from fb, but on the out-set, she did get the show on T.V. which I'm sure was a matter of greedy executives looking for the big bucks!
    
     Out of all this, my pain seems less consequential, and my beliefs are still intact, although a small victory, I do believe that Karma has prevailed......