Month: January 2023

“Margaret, sing Strawberry Roan.”

She continued crocheting and said, “I don’t want to sing Strawberry Roan.”

The man continued to slap his leather gloves into his left palm and gently grasped them as he pulled them through time and again. He wore a faint grin, and after a bit said, “Margaret, why don’t you sing some of Strawberry Roan?” 

She looked up then, her annoyance clearly showing by the scowl on her face and her curt response, “I don’t want to sing Strawberry Roan. I don’t remember all the words.”

There was silence except for the slap of the gloves of the man that sat in his easy chair. He tilted his head slightly, amusement on his face and a twinkle in his dancing blue eyes as he said, “Margaret, sing some Strawberry Roan.”

She gave a quick retort, but after a pause she sang a few lines of Strawberry Roan.

I watched from the other room and thought, “That sweet little man is not quite as innocent as he seems. What an instigator!”

In my grandmother’s younger years, she played the guitar and sang. I never heard her play. One day I asked her to write down some of the old songs. Strawberry Roan was one of those. Here’s a stanza:

He’s about the worst bucker I’ve seen on the range
He’ll turn on a nickel and give you some change
He hits on all fours and goes up on high
Leaves me a spinnin’ up there in the sky
I turns over twice and I comes back to earth
I lights in a cussin’ the day of his birth
I know there are ponies that I cannot ride
There’s some of them left, they haven’t all died

I’ll bet all my money, the man ain’t alive
That’ll stay with old strawberry
When he makes his high dive

A Tribute to Aunt Ellen aka “Sister Ellen”

Fourth of July celebrations began early that day in 1923. A seven-pound firecracker baby girl was born and that was cause to celebrate. Every year after, fireworks exploded into bright cascading waterfalls and thousands of whirling, spinning, sparkling lights that dissipated into the air. We always knew the fanfare was in honor of Sister Ellen’s birthday. She wasn’t Sister Ellen to us kids, she was Aunt Ellen, and we knew her personality well suited the fireworks that added to the celebration of her birthday.

We heard many stories of the lives and adventures of much of the family, but I believe the ones we heard most were of Sister Ellen. She was even in Daddy’s sermons, you know – the gospel according to Sister Ellen. There were many hidden spiritual truths in all the Sister Ellen illustrations we heard from the pulpit. 

Sister Ellen was a kid, and then a woman of many facets. She was called Soup by her dad, Sookie by Grandfather Ward, Sister Ellen or just Sister by Brother Buck, Toby by Cousin Anna, Potatuses, and Nellie. During her lifetime, she had many roles including that of a writer, warrior, ambassador, and sometimes even a conniver. Sister Ellen was also a bus driver. Yes, she sat in the saddle on old Spider and held the reins while Brother Buck sat behind prodding Old Spider whose belly moaned and complained all the way to the mountain one-room schoolhouse. 

She took up arms against her English Grandfather Ward. It didn’t take much for him to set her off like a rocket ready to launch. When he broke his leg, she took advantage of his convalescence as he rested in his bed. It seems she always had someone do her bidding, that “someone” being her little brother Buck. She had to have someone to blame! Her scheme worked when she persuaded the younger brother to push sawdust through the knothole into the face of Grandfather Ward.

When she wanted a new doll, she buried her old one in the sawdust pile and had a funeral for it, appointing Brother Buck to be the presiding minister. That may have been his first call into the ministry. When she conveniently couldn’t find the doll again, she asked for a new one – a prettier one – for Christmas, which she got. There were many other incidents and tales including Effie Bowlegs, the outhouse, Nimmy Not and the bear, other confrontations with Grandfather Ward, shenanigans with cousins, and pushing her sweet little brother.

Aunt Ellen had the gift of words – spoken and written – and there were many. She was Valedictorian of the rural schools, worked for The Sweet Grass News, and wrote for The Big Timber Pioneer. After High School, she took a business course in Helena, Montana and accepted a stenographic position in the State Legislature. Later, she was secretary to the City Manager in Santa Barbara, California. She got to know visiting dignitaries from other municipalities and foreign countries, one being an Assistant City Manager of Jerusalem.

When Sister Ellen went on a tour of the Holy Land with Brother Buck and some of their cousins, the dignitary she knew from Jerusalem gave them a private tour of the city. When they traveled to another country, she came to the rescue of a fellow traveler who had an unacceptable passport. She was fearless, marched into the American Embassy, took care of the matter and somehow managed to receive a special tour of an ancient Roman City. When Daddy returned home, he laughed when he told that Sister Ellen ordered strange things to eat while on their trip. Her philosophy was, “Well, I wouldn’t eat that at home.” Brother Buck followed suit, ordered strange things, and embraced that philosophy for himself, and I am a witness to that!

Brother Buck and Sister Ellen exchanged many letters over the years. She would send him a story she had written and then say, “Now you write…” He completed his assignment and sent it to her with a challenge to write something else and reach for even great achievements. Often, they read the same book and then discussed the contents in great lengths. They spurred one another on just as when they were kids with Ellen holding the reins and Brother Buck spurring Old Spider on with a kick in the flanks. 

During those years, the trail before them sometimes may have been covered with trees or with grass growing between the ruts. There were curves in the road and bumps here and there. Yet they continued to travel together, exhorting, encouraging, challenging, and praising one another. As their lives neared an end, she pushed him forward to lead the way. He complied and went on without her. At the age of 99, she joined him. Fireworks lit up the sky to signal the coming of a new year, or maybe, just maybe it was celebration of her entrance through the gates of heaven as she left this earth on New Year’s Eve. Little did she know that within just a few hours, they would welcome a favorite cousin who was proclaimed to be “another sister.”

Looking back now, the path seems clear. Their bonds of friendship and devotion to family opened the way for those who travel in their footsteps. I like to think that even now they walk side by side, but they just might be too busy talking.

Brother Buck once summed up the life of Sister Ellen,

You are the work of mystery,
You carry the seeds of majesty,
You are the works for miracle,
You carry the breath of eternity.

a tale of remembrance by my dad

Now I will tell you about a boy-girl problem and a horse wreck.  A horse wreck is something that happens to people who ride horses that buck, or people who drive horses that run away. 

But first I will tell you about my sister, Ellen. One day she said, “I wish I was a boy.” That’s when Cousin Billy said, “If a girl kisses her elbow, she will turn into a boy. And if a boy kisses his elbow, he can turn into a girl.”  

Ugh!

I’ll bet you didn’t know that!  

Sister Ellen wanted to play a boys game and couldn’t.  That made her unhappy.

Now my sister can do lots of things.  She can touch the end of her nose with her tongue.  She can kiss her wrist and her arm just above her wrist, but she can’t kiss her elbow.
(I hope you don‘t try this.)

Our neighbor has a hired man. He calls him, Slim.   This summer, Slim got thrown off his horse.  That is bad. Then the horse fell on him.  That is worse. And then the horse rolled over on him. I hope this doesn’t happen to you. 

Now Slim has four broken ribs and a broken leg.  His left arm was broken in two places and it fell across his chin.  

He is the only person I know of who could have kissed his own elbow.  But he was lucky and didn’t.  Otherwise, he’d have had a BAD accident!.