I was standing at my mirror the other morning, slathering on some expensive wrinkle potion that doesn't work (either that or my mirror started crinkling) when I fully realized that I ain't no spring chicken! That revelation started me thinking about my life up until that startling moment. Like, have I lived a boring life, an adventurous life, a fulfilling life? Where did the time go and what did I do with it? And, what am I going to do with the rest of it? I've been thinking about this for a couple of days now and decided that this blogging stuff my daughters all do would be a good way to go into the archives of my mind, brush away the cobwebs, write down what I find and see, in the written word who this person in the mirror might be. Remember, these thoughts are coming from a "fragmented hard-drive" , so they could be all over the place (and years) Let the defragmenting begin:
Winter, 1949. My father had a small farm on the Fort Hall Indian Reservation which is located in Southeast Idaho, a few miles North of Pocatello, my birthplace. I was four years old that winter but I've never forgotten it because it was definitely a winter's winter. The old homestead had three rooms and a path leading to the "two holer". The house had electricity but no running water. Water had to be hauled from a hand pump out near the barn. It snowed a lot that year so my Dad and older brothers had to shovel a path straight out from the porch to the barn and then to the right to the two-holer. Now the reason I remember this so well, is because the house sat on a high foundation. The staircase leading to the door was probably 6 or 7 steps up. On my first trip out, after the shoveling was done, the first thing I noticed, besides the cold, was that the walls of snow along the paths were waaay above my head. I took the path to the right, did my thing and, when finished , headed for the barn to watch my Dad milk the cows. My brothers were on the roof of the barn and I wanted to be there too. After sufficient begging and groveling, Bob and Bill agreed to help me up. My gosh! What a scary sight to a four year old! Every direction I looked, it was pure white , except for the wisps of smoke coming from the distant neighbors homes and the pure blue of the skies. Snow drifts were to the top of the power poles and the roads were not to be seen. There was no way out and that's the way it stayed for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was most likely a week to 10 days. Dad, Mom, and 8 kids snowed-in and cozy(except for the cold bum after the trip on the path to the right) in a tiny little house that many of us wouldn't consider adequate for a Master bedroom by today's standards. Hmmm, that reminds me of a battle the two-holer and I had with some red buttons, but that's for next time.