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Friday, August 31, 2012

A little history

I were 12 ( corrected to 11 years, 1952) years old. Lived with grandpa in St louis, Mo. Dad was gone an' I was alone, just graduated from what I thought was the last day I would ever go to school again. I wore ragged clothes, my shoes had holes in them. I slept in a room what was once part of a grocery store, junk was piled to the ceilings.

But I was a happy boy, never want for anything. I knew no difference of good or bad, clean or dirty. There was always food on the table, whether it was a can of warmed up Campbells Chicken Noodle soup, or a couple slices of bread with peanut butter. Somehow milk was always available. I rode an old antique bicycle with hard rubber tires, the brakes did not work. Yes, 1952 was hard on a little boy from a broken home, unwanted and thrown away.

Uncle Luke flew in from California to collect my ailing grandfather and a wayward little boy. We headed west on Route 66 in grandpa's 1950 Nash "upsidedown bath tub". You remember those don't ya? My first sight of desert was seen at night....I was excited. We made a detour somewheres along the way to the "ranches" just south of Deming, NM. This is where grandpa and great grandpa homesteaded 320 acres of desert land....to make a home and raise a family. I still visit the "ranches" from time to time, look'n through the eye of history of my early family that chose the desert as their home. 

By the time I finished another year of school in Ca., my dad was located in Palisades, Idaho, building the Palisades dam on the mighty Snake River. I spent many enjoyable moments on the banks of that river....throw'n rocks an' stuff ya know. With a cold winter com'n on, we moved to Las Vegas, once more I was in the desert. I learned that I loved the desert, with all the high mountains, silly look'n little trees and prickly bushes called cactus.

Dad is gone again. I'm left alone to live with the parents of his last wife Dianne in Twenty Nine Palms, Ca. It was an exciting life living in the desert, right next to a old dry lake bed where Indians once made their camps. An old abandoned gold stamp mill stood near by, an excellent place to climb and do what a boy does.

To be continued......

9 comments:

  1. Seems you made the best of it. You made do with what was there where ever you were. Good way to be.

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    1. Yes Dizzy, I did do the best I could. I'm think'n I turn out to be a pretty good guy. A little rough on the edges, but you can have my shirt if'n ya want.

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  2. You are the same age as my half sister, I am only 64 moved constantly after my mother passed from this earth, my father did the best he could, many children and I was next to the baby only girl beside my half sister who was already grown up..I hated my relatives who were paid nearly every dime my daddy paid them, they treated us like crap and their slaves, even if we could have been with my pa and starving it would have been better, I know how to work, cook, sew, bake, milk cows, can food, put up food my grandpa killed for food and know how to store anything, tooo bad some relatives are like outlaws than real human beings, they all got their karma their own kin never visited and when they did they stuck up for us..we got taken away and my relatives nearly went to jail for treating us, beating, us and nearly starving us out in the sticks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! can't say I have fond memories of the farm or it inhabitants, it is a miracle you are still inthis world, but so so so glad you are..Remember your dad only did what he knew so maybe you faired better than most did way back when!? we got away to my beloved Granmother in san diego, california only to be taken back to god forsaken oregon to be with some other blood kin of our dad..our dad went to alcohol and mental pieces we eventually got to our grandmother in san diego, ca. she only lived a few years, but sweet years they were, I enjoy traveling, have done it for most of my life with my sweetheart of nearly 40 years! Love your blog, remember God always loved and loves you and takes care of you billy bob, when I read of your childhood I cringe, wishing you could have been a member of mine, you would have been the big cheese and adored..take care!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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    1. Hain't ofter the old Billy Bob sheds a tear, but you post shed more than one. I'm think'n I were more fortunate than you and the rest of the brood. To see a sister, brother beat, starved and enslaved would break my heart. Thanks to God and grandma that you survived through it all. Me, I were just a tuff little kid what didn't know my treatment wasn't normal.
      Ha.....big cheese.

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  3. I see a gold mining story coming on...

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    1. Funny you should suggest a gold dig'n story. Over there across the road, lay'n under the bushes, is my tailings conveyer belt thingy I invented. I been think'n bout find'n me a dirt digger to ride along and go prospect'n again.

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  4. Like the old saying goes...what don't kill us, only makes us stronger!

    I'm glad you have a few good memories mixed in with the others, buddy! Guess I was one of the fortunate ones. Me and the 3 sisters were brought up by Mom and Dad, and even though we were poor we didn't know it and were happy!

    Looking forward to the continuation of the story!

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    1. I had in mind when I stared this story to only describe how I came to love the desert. But you know the old Billy Bob, he describes by detail after detail.

      When I need another "sad" day, I'll continue where I left off. But I've always been happy....to some extent.

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  5. When I was a kid in the 60's muy Dad took me along to the junkyard to find a part for his '50 Olds daily driver. I was probably 10 yrs old. I recall climbing thru the old hulk cars, while he was working on his part removal, and my all time favorite car was a late 40's Nash, maybe 1950. It was so ugly it was neat - to a 10 yr old. Chilly windy day on that North TX sunday, but I fell in love with the big old Nash cars of that era.

    Great story, Billy Bob,,,thanks

    Bigfoot

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