Soapweed
Well-known member
My journal entry for Sunday, January 21, 1968
Before I start on today's write-up, I have a little more to put in about yesterday.
Dad traded off the pickup that I wrecked for the new one. The 1967 white pickup had an estimated $850 worth of damage. The trade was made with Dad giving $2125.00 to boot for the 1968 pickup. This seems higher than heck now, but I put it in to look back on half a century from now.
Uncle Roland Fairhead (Grandma Grace's first cousin) is in the hospital in Rushville. He has had an operation and is going to have another one on February 6th. He has cancer.
While feeding hay yesterday, I made a couple of belated New Year's resolutions. For one thing, I plan on attending all of the ten brandings that we trade help with—school or no school. I also plan on taking a horse to each of these brandings, as that makes up 99% of the fun. For another thing, I am going to try and talk Dad into helping me break my two colts to drive.
Now to start on today—I got up at 6:00, ate breakfast, and went out to grain the calves. Dad went up north and caked the cows while I started feeding hay. I fed what was on the sled, and then drove the tractor down to the middle yard in the home meadow, where Dad and I loaded on the stack butt not used yesterday. We finished feeding and came in to the house about 9:30.
Everyone got ready for church, and we moseyed in to town. We got there at 10:30—too late for Sunday school and too early for church. Bruce Weber showed up in his work clothes about that time, so he talked awhile before going on his merry way. John Burton showed up then and entertained us with sad tales about running two places 80 miles apart. Church "took up" then, so we all went inside.
Everything went pretty smoothly until time for collection. Ken and I took it up and then sauntered back to our seats. I could see that Mom was giving me dirty looks, but didn't find out until after church what they were for. For lack of entertainment, I had worn a rather outlandish outfit. A blue flowered shirt with a big wide old-time gold tie was under my tan sport coat. Gray breeches with black stripes and yellow boots made up the rest of my garb. Mom didn't think it was proper "church-going" attire.
We went out to Uncle Joy's place for dinner. A great big dinner met us at the door and really tasted good. Besides us, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Nelson (the new coach) were guests.
After dinner, John and I got in a couple horses and rode up north a couple miles to some old homesteads. John rode his high-private, Firefly, and I rode a young gelding, Skeeter (named after a hired man who had worked for us a few years ago). We had a lot of fun riding along and talking, as well as excavating the old ruins. My "treasures" of the day included an old shoe polish jar and a piece of flint. We were looking in an old car and found a cottontail in a sort of "trap." John got out his fencing pliers and did away with the rabbit. He took it home for "Sunday supper" for the cats.
We got back to the JL a little before dark, unsaddled the horses, and went in to a nice Sunday supper ourselves. Our family bid our adieus and headed for home, stopping at Grandma Grace's on the way. She had been to a school meeting where they voted to hold school for "one more year" for 13 high school kids, if they are lucky. It was a very interesting meeting, we were told. [Our own family and the Fairhead family were both in separate country school districts, so weren't part of the Merriman town school district. The country districts contracted their kids to the town school, but had no say and no vote in the current town school business at hand.]
While doing chores this evening, I thought up a possible story for "Life in These United States," a monthly feature in the READER'S DIGEST. I doubt if it will qualify, as submissions for this feature are supposed to be of "adult humor," but the $200 they pay for stories they use would be a sizeable wad if it made it. Here goes:
"It was a pleasant summer evening on our ranch in the Nebraska Sandhills. The men were in from the hayfield and enjoying a little relaxation after supper. Conversation was mainly focused on the topic of the day, a satellite that had recently been launched. After listening with open ears and an open mind, my horse-loving five-year-old sister calmly remarked, "I sure wish I had a light for my little brown saddle." "
I hope this anecdote makes it, as I could find plenty to do with the $200.
[Alas, the story didn't earn me any money.]
Before I start on today's write-up, I have a little more to put in about yesterday.
Dad traded off the pickup that I wrecked for the new one. The 1967 white pickup had an estimated $850 worth of damage. The trade was made with Dad giving $2125.00 to boot for the 1968 pickup. This seems higher than heck now, but I put it in to look back on half a century from now.
Uncle Roland Fairhead (Grandma Grace's first cousin) is in the hospital in Rushville. He has had an operation and is going to have another one on February 6th. He has cancer.
While feeding hay yesterday, I made a couple of belated New Year's resolutions. For one thing, I plan on attending all of the ten brandings that we trade help with—school or no school. I also plan on taking a horse to each of these brandings, as that makes up 99% of the fun. For another thing, I am going to try and talk Dad into helping me break my two colts to drive.
Now to start on today—I got up at 6:00, ate breakfast, and went out to grain the calves. Dad went up north and caked the cows while I started feeding hay. I fed what was on the sled, and then drove the tractor down to the middle yard in the home meadow, where Dad and I loaded on the stack butt not used yesterday. We finished feeding and came in to the house about 9:30.
Everyone got ready for church, and we moseyed in to town. We got there at 10:30—too late for Sunday school and too early for church. Bruce Weber showed up in his work clothes about that time, so he talked awhile before going on his merry way. John Burton showed up then and entertained us with sad tales about running two places 80 miles apart. Church "took up" then, so we all went inside.
Everything went pretty smoothly until time for collection. Ken and I took it up and then sauntered back to our seats. I could see that Mom was giving me dirty looks, but didn't find out until after church what they were for. For lack of entertainment, I had worn a rather outlandish outfit. A blue flowered shirt with a big wide old-time gold tie was under my tan sport coat. Gray breeches with black stripes and yellow boots made up the rest of my garb. Mom didn't think it was proper "church-going" attire.
We went out to Uncle Joy's place for dinner. A great big dinner met us at the door and really tasted good. Besides us, Mr. and Mrs. Tom Nelson (the new coach) were guests.
After dinner, John and I got in a couple horses and rode up north a couple miles to some old homesteads. John rode his high-private, Firefly, and I rode a young gelding, Skeeter (named after a hired man who had worked for us a few years ago). We had a lot of fun riding along and talking, as well as excavating the old ruins. My "treasures" of the day included an old shoe polish jar and a piece of flint. We were looking in an old car and found a cottontail in a sort of "trap." John got out his fencing pliers and did away with the rabbit. He took it home for "Sunday supper" for the cats.
We got back to the JL a little before dark, unsaddled the horses, and went in to a nice Sunday supper ourselves. Our family bid our adieus and headed for home, stopping at Grandma Grace's on the way. She had been to a school meeting where they voted to hold school for "one more year" for 13 high school kids, if they are lucky. It was a very interesting meeting, we were told. [Our own family and the Fairhead family were both in separate country school districts, so weren't part of the Merriman town school district. The country districts contracted their kids to the town school, but had no say and no vote in the current town school business at hand.]
While doing chores this evening, I thought up a possible story for "Life in These United States," a monthly feature in the READER'S DIGEST. I doubt if it will qualify, as submissions for this feature are supposed to be of "adult humor," but the $200 they pay for stories they use would be a sizeable wad if it made it. Here goes:
"It was a pleasant summer evening on our ranch in the Nebraska Sandhills. The men were in from the hayfield and enjoying a little relaxation after supper. Conversation was mainly focused on the topic of the day, a satellite that had recently been launched. After listening with open ears and an open mind, my horse-loving five-year-old sister calmly remarked, "I sure wish I had a light for my little brown saddle." "
I hope this anecdote makes it, as I could find plenty to do with the $200.
[Alas, the story didn't earn me any money.]
