Month: November 2019

I have two daughters – a tall daughter and a short daughter. I gave birth to my short daughter. My tall daughter wears a wedding sapphire given to her by my son. I like traveling with both of my daughters.

Traveling with my tall daughter is always an adventure. In fact, my tall daughter adds extra adventure to our adventures. The last trip with my tall daughter was to Montana along with our spouses. We booked a room at a motel close to the airport since we had an early flight. It was rainy, cold, and dark when I got to the car early the next morning. My tall daughter stood at the back of the car with the hatch opened. She pointed to a pair of boots and said, “Do you notice anything?” “They don’t match.” They were different colors and it looked like they were different sizes, too. “Do you notice anything else?” “They are both for the same foot.” Well, I guess a new pair of boots would be the first order of business upon landing in Montana. That’s a great trick to get a new pair of boots! She makes the most of the opportunity.

A few years ago we went on a trip with some of the extended family and retraced the trail our ancestors took from New Mexico to Montana. We traveled down winding mountain roads, climbed through ancient cliff dwellings, and explored old family stomping grounds. Along Route 66, we stepped back into the ’50’s at the iconic Galaxy Diner. Before I could blink, my tall daughter was standing with the performing musician singing Rocky Top. She’s spontaneous.

My tall daughter is an Elementary School teacher. She is always seeking places of special interest that serve as teaching aids to her students. On the road through Utah, my tall daughter wanted to make such a side trip. As we wound up the road through the hills to Promontory Point, the white crusty Salt Flats in the valley below glistened like snow. On Promontory Summit we visited Golden Spike National Monument where the first transcontinental railroad was completed in 1869 when the Union and Central Pacific Railways met and opened up the west. After leaving that bit of history behind, we took back roads that led into Idaho and then into Montana. We met up with a newfound cousin, a fellow teacher who was quickly captured by the southern belle’s exuberance. She’s engaging.

There was one trip I took with both my tall daughter and my short daughter. We went to North Carolina to a conference. When we got to town, we went to the B & B we had booked. Upon arrival, we discovered that the hostess did not set us up in the rooms we had paid for. My tall daughter took charge and soon the hostess was moving out of the room that was supposed to be ours for the night. When my tall daughter is along, she speaks up for us all. She’s our champion.

I have been on various trips with my tall daughter. My husband and I have been “camping” with her and her groom in their motor home. We have visited various National and State Parks. We have traveled out west. We have traveled to Michigan. I have traveled with them in the winter across the frozen Northwest. We have hiked, picnicked, gone to weddings and family reunions or just gone out to dinner. She likes all kinds of adventures.

And – my tall daughter gives the best hugs!

I have visited many interesting places around the country, each with its own characteristics and culture. One such place was what some have classified as a hippie commune located in the Santa Ynez Mountains above Santa Barbara, California. The compound at one time was a sacred spirit village of the Chumash people.

It was later known as the Sunburst Community but is now called Flores Flats. “Flores” is a Spanish word that means “flowers.” That gives you an idea of the beauty of the area. My cousin has a lovely and unique home nestled there in the mountains among the Manzanita trees and other beautiful vegetation and foliage.

The residents there work together as a community. Their homes are made out of whatever is available. The homes without bathroom facilities share a community bath house. They often pool their resources and provide for one another. When I was there, we all gathered to share our evening meal. Someone grilled steaks, while others prepared fresh produce and bread. They rely on their gardens for food as well as a means to generate income. Many use solar power and live very simply. They have a connection to nature. Because of the age-old lingering spirit felt there in the mountains it is said, “the ancient people continue to nurture us all with contributions from their rich heritage and culture.” And so the ancient people continue to live on.

Anytime we meet up with Cousin Scottie, it’s a good day. He is a walking family historian with a genealogical chart as an appendage. I asked him once if he would will me his brain – or at least the family history it contains. He has been our fearless leader on more than one occasion, leading us through the trails of stories and history. 

The trip of 2012 was the first time I remember meeting any of my Wagoner cousins, though I had seen their folks several times. We met at Sapillo Creek, New Mexico. The plan was to meet there at the old site of the Brannin Ranch, explore the area, and then follow the route of the family exodus to Montana in 1895-96. Some of us had retraced that trail before.

After meeting, we all went to the Buckhorn Saloon in Pinos Altos for supper. We walked in the door and felt an immediate connection to the past. The dim lights, the long dark toned bar, the wall lined with bottles, the brick wall at the back of the room, the décor, and the wooden ceiling created an atmosphere characteristic of the old west era. Some of the family had already gathered. The young folks sat together and soon the cousins were well acquainted. We talked about our proposed route and got brushed up on some of the family history. Our food was wonderful, and the company was the same. It was open mic night and we got a rare treat. One of the cousins, only 13 years old, sang and played the guitar. His fingers danced across the strings and impressed everyone in the bar. 

We all enjoyed staying on the same piece of property where the old Ranch once stood. Sapillo Creek still runs through the property. One of the apple trees planted by my Great Grandfather also stands as a testimony to time. The old tree is twisted and weathered. I wish there was a magic camera on the tree that would replay all the events that took place over 125 years. We would see the uncles all covered in mud when they scared the Sunday wagon drivers; we would get a glimpse of Indians coming off Apache Hill into the Brannin yard asking for something to eat; we would see children playing in the yard; we would hear Stanton talk of the neighboring rancher’s threats; we would see the shingle maker in action; we would hear the one lie Guadalupe told of her heritage. Instead we must rely on the oral and written history that has been passed on to us.

Our time in the area was much too short. One day, I hope to go back and stay longer to explore the area. Would you like to join me? I’ll meet you at the Buckhorn!