Women made civilization possible.

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The programs in the 1950-60s were focused on Westerns, though I do not know why. Matt Dillon, Lone Ranger (with Tonto, played by Jay Silverheels), Rawhide, Have Gun Will Travel, and many more filled our living room with galloping horses, lots of gunfights. Many up and coming stars began their acting careers in a Western.

What is seldom seen are the dramas with female wives who are racing around in long prairie skirts, always working in the background.  Working? They were the workforce until children grew enough to pitch in.

Who are these women? Why in the world were they always stirring pots over log fires, especially when hell is breaking loose around them?

Old Farm and country photographs

1906 Yakima

Kentucky, 1920s

Workers in hayfield. Women are cooking.

Nebraska, 1886

 

1920s, going on honeymoon

grinding corn Kentucky

Fool Thunder and family. Hunkpapa Lakota. 1880

True west magazine

earliest photo of Native Americans

1853

1906, Osage

Native Americans and European immigrants, being a woman was desperately hard. Sunrise to sundown, women worked hard to feed and care for her family. 

Women settled the West, more so than the men. Sure, men were charged with protecting family, keeping them safe, chasing bad guys. But, women provided more than food and children--they civilized the West. Churches, schools, and a sense of community emerged from the strength of these special strong women.

Salute the women in your life. You are lucky to have, or to have had, these God-blessed women who make the world bearable. Give them some roses, just for the heck of it.

She will deserve every petal.

You Raise Me Up

 

BYU Vocal point

On all days, God reminds me that He is here with me, with everything.  Whatever hurts, He hears my voice. When the world seems dark, God is in charge. 

Hop on, Easter Bunny. Hop on.

 

Source etsy

This event was before the Superman Travesty, back before I knew just how low and evil my brothers were, and would become.

It was Easter, maybe 1960 or 1959.  Church was over.  Ham dinner was eaten and done. It was time for the egg hunt.  Hard boiled and dyed eggs had been hidden in our vast lawn after we all had fallen asleep.  It was never questioned by whom.

Source

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious and/or violent. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat.

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....


This is a post from 2015, rewritten and re-posted 2019 and 2020. Rewritten and here it is now. 

My brothers (whom I love dearly now) were miserable bastards in my youth. They were mean to me most of the time. Revenge will be mine.