An era is about to come to an end. The flag is coming down. The lights are being turned off. The door is being locked. In a few more weeks, the Darrah Ranch will close down and cease to be in business any longer. After 44 years….going on 45 years…..of continuous operation, the Darrah Ranch is calling is quits.

I have lived here for well over half my life. It doesn’t seem like it, but it is true. I  turned 80 years old this July. It is rather difficult for me to fathom….but that is what my birth certificate says. If I did not have a birth certificate….and somebody would ask me how old I am….I would probably say, “Oh…. Probably 45 or 50…… But, I feel like I am about 30 or 35.” Honestly, I can say that the 30 or 35 is true….although the evidences and the reminders of growing older are starting to show up.

 

 

 

 

The decision to move away from the wild uncharted territory of Jefferson County into a more civilized environment was a gradual one. It was made a few years ago….maybe 5 or 10 years ago. It was the timing that was uncertain….the time and date that was strung out into a gradual process. People…..friends, relatives, complete strangers…..have been urging me to move for the past 40 years! “Why do you even want to live out there? Or, “Why did you choose to live there in the first place?” Or, “Get out of there while you are still able!”

Most, if not all, of these people implied that I was somehow mentally deficient for ever moving here in the first place…..and even more convinced when I persisted in living here! They always say that crazy people are the last to know they are actually crazy. Who knows? If that is true…..then I must really be nuts!

The fact that I live here at all is purely accidental…. The fact that I even live in this place was a quirk of fate. It was nothing that I had planned or had even thought of. It was one of those consequences of making snap decisions….decisions that were not adequately or carefully considered. And, in the final analysis, one of those decisions that I have had to live with …..for better or worse.

When I returned from spending 4 years in South Vietnam, my first mission was to find a job…..somewhere, anywhere….. I applied first of all in the Chicago public schools. They hire teachers almost year round because of the high rate of attrition…at least at that time.  I mean…. A teacher would have to be rather desperate for a job…..or continually high on some sort of mind numbing drug….to accept a job in Chicago…. Unless the teacher could be lucky enough to land a job in one of the suburban schools…..or have some sort of evidence to blackmail one of the principals or the personnel director.

Me? Well, I was reaching the point of desperation….but not quite to the point of drug addiction.  Chicago, at least, was a starting point. Look…. I did have a short history of good luck! I ended up on South Vietnam in the US Army….lucked out getting assigned as secretary to the adjutant general of the US Army in Vietnam….. I joined the International Voluntary Services….and for some reason was selected to be the Associate Chief of Party for Education…. I didn’t ask for….and I did not expect….either of these jobs. I am not so sure what part luck played in either of those jobs.  Maybe in somebody’s opinion, I was actually qualified for each of these jobs.   But….  I think I was lucky.

I duly completed the application form furnished by the Chicago public schools….and as expected, I was invited to Chicago for an interview. Yeah…. I was optimistic….sort of.   I have absolutely no recollection of the meeting or of the interview, except it was the very first time I had seen a female doctor, which was interesting in and of itself! It was the first time I had had such an intimate examination by a woman doctor! And, I was offered a job…..in an inner city, predominately black, school. I knew instantaneously what my decision was…..but I smiled, thanked them properly and told them I would let them know soon about my decision……and almost ran back to the train station to get the heck out of there.

Back home in Sterling, I consulted the Sterling College teacher placement list again to see what other jobs in my field were available. My fields, by the way, were secondary history and government…..and anything in an elementary school. You might also keep in mind that social studies teachers, even back then, were a dime a dozen. Anybody who wanted to be any sort of coach almost automatically had a degree to teach social studies.  Either that or physical education. Back then….if you were among the living…. can you see a coach teaching math or science, for example? Or art? Or music? Most of these guys had absolutely no interest in teaching…..teaching anything. They wanted to be big dogs….. They wanted to COACH. Wow…. What job could be better? Put in some time during the day having students read a text book….make up a few tests….spend 80% of class time talking about sports….. And, then…. Get to be a coach! Back then, it was like a dream to many males who went into “education”. And, that’s not all….. They got the summer off to mess around and do nothing….a three months vacation…..maybe conduct a few sports camps, whatever the law allowed back then….

Anyway….. Basically, social studies was my field of certification, along with elementary education. In mid-year, looking for a good social studies teaching position is sort of like looking for a four-leaf clover. It is difficult….and you have to be lucky!

I spotted a job that was available in Kansas City, Missouri. It was a junior high school social studies position….. I knew absolutely nothing about the circumstances or the conditions. But, I figured: Why not? What have I to lose?  So, accompanied by one of my aunts, I set off early one morning for Kansas City….. Hopeful, but not knowing what to expect….and certainly not very optimistic. After being being shown into the office of the personnel director (They are called Human Resources directors today.) The job was explained to me; I answered a few questions…..and I was offered the job. Right on the spot. And…. I accepted….Right on the spot.

My position was that of junior high school “Common Learning” teacher. The school was George Caleb Bingham Junior High School…..located on the southwest side of Kansas City. For me the deciding factor….the ball that knocked down the 10 pin…. was the fact that the school was actually located in a rather respectable part of the city…..far from the inner-city slums. I think I have written rather extensively about the school in an earlier blog. But, just to briefly refresh your memory…… The school was not a traditional school….with classrooms, homerooms and all that good stuff.  I was part of a teaching team in a school that did not use textbooks, but rather used an assortment of audio-visual teaching aids to get the material across: videos, film strips, slides, lectures, guest speakers, graphics, audio tapes……

The only time I saw my “group” was a short daily session called “Seminar”. One period I might be lecturing to 400 students, another period maybe acting as the “enforcer” while another member of the team presided over a presentation. Another period maybe I would be showing a video to a group of 50 students….. Who knows what I would be doing.  We had a general topics, general themes, general objectives to meet…. We were more or less on our own in

planning how we would present all of these.

Quite frankly, I think it was a lousy system;  a lousy way to expect 7^th and 8^th graders to learn. If it were not for the “Review Sessions” we held….both in the large groups and in our seminar groups, somehow I doubt if very many of the students would have even passed! For all practical purposes, we simply told the students what the test questions would be.  Better write it down…..and remember it!

Another problems….at least, in the way I perceived it…..was that Kansas City was in the process of integrating their school system. Several dozen students were bused in daily from the inner city….to bring about racial and economic balance, I suppose. In some cases, these students simply did not “fit in” very well, mostly because of their behavior and attitude. To compensate for this, there were four or five policemen assigned to roam the halls of the building…..and maintain law and order…..or to act as some sort of warning or deterrent before trouble broke out. In the two previous schools where I had taught, the teacher were given keys to the building so we could work or plan lessons during the off-school hours or on weekends. Not so at George Caleb Bingham Junior High School. We were basically in the same boat the students were in: Get your bodies out of the school before 4:30 and don’t come back until 7:30 the following morning. And, don’t even think of entering the building on weekends! Yeah…. They really trusted us!

Need I say that one semester was sufficient for me.  I am really not a masochist…..I have no reason for self-punishment…..or for an assault on my character…..or for wondering daily what I was doing standing in front of a big group of kids, pushing a button and showing a movie.

Now…. If taking that job was impulsive….. Wait until I tell you how I took the job in Valley Falls! In comparison, taking the Kansas City job probably sounds like a well-measured, thoughtful decision! A decision make by a famous think-tank after weeks of serious deliberation.

Looking back, I doubt if I ever intended to stay in Kansas City more than one semester….just enough time to find something more suitable. By the end of the semester, “suitable” was almost any job….except the one I had in Kansas City. Mostly, I just disagreed in fundamental ways about what a school should be….how students should be taught….

Again, I enrolled in the Sterling College Placement Bureau. And, it had not improved much since I first used it back in 1960. Most public school superintendents had probably never heard of Sterling College, and I am almost totally convinced that the list of teaching positions they had was a meager list….far from an exhaustive list….very rudimentary. So, when a prospective teacher enrolled there….. Well, you took what what was available. I was to find later on that the Placement Offices at K. U. and Washburn listed exponentially more teaching positions than Sterling did. But…. That is ancient history now. Who cares?

Anyway, when I got the first list of teaching positions, I saw a vacancy for a U. S. history/government teacher in Valley Falls.  Valley Falls?  I had never heard of it. I had no idea where it was located. I knew nothing about it. This was back in the “good old days”….back when there were such a thing as maps!  So, I got my Kansas map and looked it up.

“Wow! Valley Falls is only about 50 miles from Kansas City… Almost on my way home in Sterling. I can simply stop there on my way home on a Saturday for an interview.”  So, I filled out the application….. (This was also back in the day when people actually used the U. S. Postal Service to mail things!) …..mailed it back. In a few days…. Sure enough! I was invited for an interview…..the following Saturday morning! What luck! I was excited.

OK….. Now I had better figure out how to get to Valley Falls. Out came the trusty map again. I am sure I took a round about way….but who wants to get lost on the way to an interview? Just stick to the major highways. Actually, I am not sure how I got here. But, I did arrive on time. Ted Jones was the Superintendent of Schools at the time….and he actually gave me a rather accurate description of how to get to his house. In a town the size of Valley Falls, it would be hard to get lost…..although I am sure people from even smaller towns probably have done it!

I was rather surprised that the interview was to be conducted at Ted’s home (I probably should be calling him Dr. Jones….but he quickly became a friend….), instead of at his office. I knocked on Ted’s door at approximately the appointed time. “Wow… He’s young,” was my first thought when he opened the door. He was in the kitchen alone when I arrived. Apparently the rest of the family was sleeping late….or they had been instructed to make themselves scarce for a while. He was drinking a cup of coffee….but he offered me a glass of water. Another mild surprise. Maybe he was drinking the last cup.

After a minimum of small talk….and I would learn that Ted usually kept small talk to a minimum….we began to talk business. “Where did you find about the job? Where did you go to college? What was your major? What kind of experience have you had? (Maybe) why do you want to teach here? Ahhh…. You spent four years in South Vietnam?? (Probably just being polite.)”

“Come on. Let’s go over to the school. It is only a block away.” From that point on, it was a hard sell….on his part. This was in May of 1969, Construction was underway for the “new” addition. (There has been another addition since then….) As we walked through existing buildings…..and began to explore the new addition….a commons area, new library, vocal music room, band room, art room….and, of course, the reason the entire bond issue had been passed….the New Gym….Ted extolled the virtues of the school district. (The virtues he extolled have long since escaped my memory….) He spoke of how wonderful it would be to teach with all the new facilities. He talked glowingly about the outstanding sports teams that Valley Falls had produced. He pointed out the excellent location of Valley Falls….easy driving distance to Topeka, Lawrence (K. U.) and Kansas City. (Yes… That part impressed me!)

As I look back now….and even much earlier than this….I can now recall something rather important that never came up: academic excellence, test scores….stuff like that. Well…. As I would slowly discover, maybe there was a good reason for that.

Anyway, after a thorough tour of the “facilities”,  I was rather startled when Ted said something to the effect, “Well, the job is yours. Shall I have Betty (the clerk of the board) draw up a contract and send it to you?”

Here I was in Valley Falls, Kansas, in a town I had never heard of….at a school I knew nothing about….talking to a man whom I had met 45 minutes earlier….. Hooray!! Now I was being offered a job. Without hardly a second thought, I said, “Yes. Thanks a lot.” Now I really HAD a new job.

We walked back to his house. “The lady next door….” he said….indicating the house across the street…. “will probably rent you a room pretty cheap. Why don’t you go over and ask her now…..and come back to my house before you leave.”

Fortunately, she was at home. I introduced myself and told her I had just been hired as a new teacher for the coming school year. “Come on in,” she said, “and I will show you the room.” We walked up a flight of stairs. There was a room on the left….and a room on the right. “The room on the right will be yours,” she said. “Another teacher rents the other room.”

After agreeing on the rent….$70.00 a month….and the fact that I could keep food in the refrigerator (She wasn’t about to do any cooking for me.) and that I would have free access to the living room and the TV set (If I could ever manage to break her and the other teacher away from it.)……I went back across the street to tell Ted that I had indeed rented the room. We said Goodbye…..and I headed on to my mother’s house in Lyons…..with a new job.

Mother lived in Lyons….right next door to my uncle and aunt….her brother. When I arrived home, they were all congregated in my uncle’s back yard. I joined them and dramatically announced: “Guess what? I have a new job!”

Everybody seemed excited and happy for me. “Where?” they all wanted to know.

“In Valley Falls,” I told them.

My aunt looked at me with a skeptical look on her face. “There is no such place as Valley Falls,” she informed us….and me. She said it so convincingly that she almost had me doubting if I had understood the name of the town correctly.

After I finally convinced them that yes, indeed, there is such a place as Valley Falls (and it wasn’t easy), they were all happy and excited again. I think they all knew that I was not planning to stay in Kansas City more than one semester….unless I found that I REALLY liked it there. I didn’t.

Immediately after school had ended in Kansas City, I loaded up my little red VW Beetle and moved all of my earthly belongings to Valley Falls…..and into the room on the right at the top of the stairs. Now I was officially living in Valley Falls, Kansas.

Living in the house on Frazier Street was…well… Interesting. I occupied one room of the house…..up a flight of stairs, the room to my right. It was a rather dark, musty room….but nothing that a couple lamps couldn’t take care of. There was a bed, of course…..a table I could use as a desk, and a dresser. There was not a comfortable chair to sit in….but I had full access to the downstairs, and that is where I spent most of my time. By default, I sort of claimed a semi-comfortable recliner as my chair….and that became “my chair” for the two years that I lived there. For some unknown reason, there was a “lapboard” which I could use while grading papers and making lesson plans, etc.  Also, I was permitted to keep a limited amount of food in the refrigerator….usually some milk, some sliced meat and some sliced cheese.

The apartment was only one block from the school, so I could easily walk there every morning. No need to drive the little Beetle.

Another teacher also rented a room in the house….also at the top of the stairs, directly across from my room, on the left. He was an interesting character, to say the least. I am reasonably sure he loved to drink alcohol…..maybe even to excess. I won’t say he had a problem because I never saw him impaired. But, his trash basket was constantly full of empty liquor bottles….vodka, mostly. And, the land lady complained constantly about having carry them downstairs and throw them away. In the years since, a couple of his former students….his “student aides” have told me they even “ran errands” for him during school hours to fetch thermos bottles and other containers which they were pretty sure did not contain coffee!

Even though we lived in adjacent rooms….just across a 4 feet hallway….we never socialized. On rare occasions, he would sit downstairs in the evening and watch TV. Other than that, our contact was limited….if not nonexistent. I don’t recall that he ever had visitors….except for one time when his son came to visit him. I later read in the newspaper that his son had hijacked a bus in San Francisco and proceeded to drive it because he thought the bus driver was driving too slowly! (A story corroborated by the teacher!)

My land lady? Well, I was new in town, and I had no idea who she was except that she was rather elderly….well…just elderly, shall we say….and did an a lot of entertaining. She and her friends would sit for hours in the evening at the dining room table and play some card game….and gossip. They completely ignored me, so their “conversation” flowed freely. Of course, I had no idea who anybody was, so all of their little stories meant absolutely nothing to me. It was obvious, however, that they were all well-connected around town….and definitely part of the “in group”….and well tuned in to everything that was happening in town. And, it was also obvious they had definite opinions on everybody and everything. Man, I wish I had recorded some of those nocturnal discussions!

The first day of every month, as I walked down the stairs in the morning, the land lady would be standing at the bottom of the stairs…..with her hand held out. Literally, with her hand held out! Wanting the rent money! The first couple times I had to go back up to my room and write a check before I could proceed with eating breakfast….or anything. But, I wised up, and as I descended the stairs on the first day of the month, I made sure I had a check in my hand. The room had a vent for air-conditioning and for heat. But, as soon as I would leave the room, the land lady would scurry up the stairs and close the vents….even if I were only sitting in the front room with my school work. The room was never comfortable! It was always too hot or too cold. Things like this only reinforced by belief that she was probably living from pay check to pay check.

Let me tell you….. Back in those days, I did not have a clue about Valley Falls….or its people….or anything. Usually, at the end of the school day on Friday, I put my suitcase in the VW and headed for Lyons. So…. I figured that the poor woman must really depend on my rent money to simply make it through the month. I sort of felt sorry for her. Was she collecting Social Security? I had no idea? Hadn’t her husband had some sort of life insurance policy? Obviously not, I assumed. She seemed very intent on collecting the money at the earliest minute on the first day of each month.

After a couple years I moved out….and moved into a mobile home for a couple years. I more or less lost contact with the woman…. OK, I sort of just forgot about her. A few years later, she died. As I read her obituary, I was shocked and amazed. Her husband had been the president of one of the local banks; she owned several hundred acres of land outside Valley Falls; he had been one of the major farmers in the area. I was stunned. The woman wasn’t poor; she was loaded. My $75.00 was probably merely pocket change for her. Oh well…. It was her house; her room. I was only a tenant….and she had every right to collect the money in a timely manner, I suppose.

For the next couple years, I lived in a mobile home…..ten feet wide and maybe 30 feet long. It was a cramped little space….but at least, in order to pay the monthly rent, I had to walk over to my landlord’s house….which was on the corner diagonally from the mobile home.

During those early days in Valley Falls, I had become rather good friends with the family of one of my colleagues…. Dorothy Farr and her husband, Red.  Red and Dorothy lived out in the country…..way out in the country. I remember the first time I went to their house….probably with Barry. Wow….I wondered, “Where in the world is he taking me?” Back in the early 70’s, none of the roads were paved; none of them had a name. There was only one house on the Ferguson Road on our way there. I recall driving down this gravel….actually, it was dirt when it was dry and mud after it had rained….road….further and further away from civilization….deeper and deeper into the boondocks. After driving what seemed several miles, we turned onto an even more deserted road and headed west toward…..who knows where.

Actually the road led to the Delaware River about two miles or so on down the road. I wasn’t aware of that at the time, though. We passed one house….set probably100 meters or so off the dirt road. The next house we came to, a mile down the tree lined road was indeed where the Farr family lived. I looked around. I was definitely out in the country. About 200 yards on down the road was another house. At the time, it belonged to Nolan Schneider and his wife. I didn’t know this at the time. I only found this later. And, basically, that was it! Later I discovered another abandoned house another half mile or so on down the road. This was the old Meyer house, I was told. That was it. Three inhabited houses between what was….and still is….known as the Ferguson Road and the Delaware River….a stretch of road a little more than two miles long.

I felt like I was in the wilderness….unsettled territory….the frontier.

The Farrs raised quarter horses. I never did fully understand what a quarter horse is….but that really isn’t very important for this story. After a few times of following somebody to their house….or riding with one of the family, I was finally able to drive there by myself. The trip became easier and the surroundings became more familiar….that still didn’t alleviate the fact that they lived far from the mainstream of civilization!

As time went on, I found myself going to visit them more and more often….many times after school just to ride the horses. We….actually, they….would saddle up the horses, and we would spend an hour or so riding through the pastures and woodlands back of their house. The land along the road was flat pasture land, but as we rode further back from the road toward the north, the terrain transitioned into gently rolling hills covered with trees. It wasn’t exactly an Amazon rain forest, but there were enough trees that one might at least call it a woods. There were a couple meandering little creeks and a couple creek-fed ponds. Giving the landscape a rather idyllic atmosphere. Eventually, we ended up at the Delaware River….maybe a half mile away from their house. It seemed that far…..but it could have been less and it could have been more. I never measured it, so I don’t know. It was, to be sure, very pleasant and very serene and very quiet back there in the woods away from….well, almost anything.

By the time I had become friends with the Farrs, I had moved out of the dark, dingy one room I occupied a block from the school, and I had moved into the mobile home…which over time started to become almost equally as oppressive. It became similar to living in a sardine can….everything cramped and squeezed together.

Also by this time, I had made one of the major mistakes of my entire lifetime. I had agreed to let one of my nephews live with me. My youngest sister was living in Illinois….was was trying to raise three children in their early and pre-teens. She passed away after a rather extended illness, leaving the three kids….two boys and a girl….with no home. Actually, due to her illness, they had gone largely unsupervised for a period of time that I am not familiar with. But, I suspect from everything I heard and observed that they were mostly on their own and by and large just roamed the streets pretty much at will. They had a nominal supervisor, supplied by one of the local social service agencies…..but that appeared to be in name only.

At any rate, our family was notified that she was in critical condition, so I took off from my job and took my mother back to Illinois. While we were there, she died…..leaving the three kids with no home. Being naive, gullible and generally without a clue, I agreed to bring the youngest son home with me. Without going into the unpleasant details, I will merely say that it did not turn out well…..and can probably be described as one of the worst years of my life.

At any rate, at the time, I was living in the cramped mobile home….cramped even for one person….Me. Adding an additional person to the picture only made the space problem worse, to say the least.

One night we were out at the Farrs’ house…..just sitting around visiting and trading small talk. Then out of the blue….from nowhere…..either Dorothy or Red said something like, “How would you like to live out here? We can build you a house.”

I was dumbfounded…..astonished, to say the least. I had never thought of building a house. It had never entered my mind. Especially building a house out in the country….out in the boondocks. “Give me a couple days to think about it.” That night, lying in my bed, it took a long time to fall asleep. Confusing thoughts….excited thoughts….nervous thoughts…..all cluttered my mind at the same time. “Wow! Me, a homeowner….. A new house….. Wow! A mortgage! Probably thirty years in debt….twenty, at least. Wow! Could I afford it? Monthly mortgage payments….electricity bill….telephone bill…..water bill…..increased gasoline bill…. Wow! An acre and a fourth to care for. I don’t even have a lawnmower! Or a snow shovel…..”

“Maybe I had better get some more details….some more information,” I thought.

Yeah….. I would have one and a quarter acres….and I had two options to choose from. The total cost of the project….land, house, furniture….would be $24,000. We would start building as soon as the zoning was approved….right at the end of the school year.

A couple days later, I drove back out to visit the Farrs. “Yes…. I decided to go for it,” I told them. “Where will I get the money?”

Fortunately, I qualified for a no-down payment loan from the Farmers Home Administration. I was certainly poor enough to qualify for the loan…..no questions asked! After all, I was a school teacher. A thirty year mortgage at a fixed rate….somewhere around 8.00%. I think….. I was going to be in debt for the next thirty years. But, on the other hand, I was also going to have my own house….next to some good friends of mine…..and located, as they say, “Out in the boondocks.”

This was 1974….. I had never owned any property in my life. It was an entirely new experience for me. But, with the help and guidance of the Farrs, I managed to secure a loan from the Farmer’s Home Administration…..no down payment….and thirty years to pay it off…..at 8.25% interest. Today that percent of interest would almost be up there with shady loan sharks….but I guess that was good back in those days….and since I was borrowing money from the US government, it was no doubt less than the open market.  At any rate, I had no idea; I didn’t know the difference. All I new that I had to pay $169.00 a month for the next 30 years! If I had not paid it off sooner….. I would have been making payments on the house for a year after I retired! And, back in those days $169 was a lot of money…..for me, at least.

We…..and I use that pronoun very loosely because I was a rather minor player in the process, except for paying for it….started early in the summer, as I recall. At least, it seems to me, in retrospect, that we worked the entire summer on the house. We….being Red, Dorothy, Barry and I….. Although, Barry spent much more time avoiding work that he did actually working. In fact, I used to joke to myself that he worked harder in getting out of work than what it would have been to simply just to go ahead and work. Brad, who was in early grade school at time was a willing worker, although he was relegated to menial tasks such as picking up nails and stray lumber. But, they were age-appropriate jobs which he performed willingly.

And I?  Well…. I was the super-”gopher”…..the hired hand….the low man on the totem pole. I just did whatever I was told to do….mostly the most unskilled of jobs….support jobs, I suppose one could call them. I showed up each and every day….six days a week….and worked until the last nail was hammered or the last board was cut. After the school started, I even gave up my season tickets for K. U. football games so I could be there on Saturday to help.

The work proceeded steadily…. At least, I guess it did. I knew absolutely nothing about building a house….and I only did what I was told to do. Nobody consulted me about anything…..nothing.

Summer came to an end…..the summer of 1974…..and Dorothy and I went back to work. The house had been fully enclosed. It was actually a house. Red continued to work on the house. Dorothy and I would join him after work for a few hours each day….and all day on Saturday. Did I mention that I gave up my season K. U. football tickets so I could be

around to help??

My recollection of those days is fuzzy, to say the least…..but suffice it to say, one day the house was declared to be “finished”…..and I was allowed to prepare to move in.  Actually “moving day” was not very labor intensive. For all practical purposes, I owned no furniture. Furniture had been purchased and was delivered to the house sometime previously. All I had to do was haul my clothing….and the clothing of my nephew who was living with me…..out to the house. I think there was probably a TV set, also…. Oh yes, the TV antenna. This was several years before satellite TV or cable TV. It was a cold day in December…. December 30^th, to be exact…..when I officially started calling the “house” a “home”.  I was excited. This was the first house I had ever owned….or would own 30 years later. One of my students, Brent Littleton, borrowed his

grandfather’s truck and took the stuff out for us.

It had begun to snow lightly by the time we started installing the TV antenna.  As we prepared to spend our first night in the new house, it suddenly dawned on us: We didn’t have any sheets….or pillow cases…. We didn’t have any sort of drapes or curtains for the windows….we didn’t even have a curtain for the shower. I had been living in rental properties. All this kind of stuff had been furnished. I had simply taken them for granted. Now, I was jolted into a state of reality…..

By this time…..and it was dark outside….the snow was coming down heavily; the temperature has dropped; the wind had picked up. We were faced with a choice:  Go to Topeka and buy the items we needed….or wait and hope we could go down sometime later and buy them. Did we want to spend the night(s) with with windows wide open, so everybody could look in?  (I am really am not sure who would be looking in our windows…..especially in a snow storm….but one never knows.) Did we want to sleep on beds with no sheets or pillowcases? (I suppose we could have slept on the floor.) Did we want to wait some days before taking a shower. (People have done it before.)

 

 

 

 

I was still young back in those days……36 years old, I suppose. A snow storm wasn’t going to deter me from doing what I thought had to be done. So, we climbed into the car….and I suppose that car must have been a green 1974 Chevette wagon…and made our way to Topeka. We made it down there safely. Back in 1974, my main shopping venue was the K-Mart store which was located in North Topeka …..now, long gone. As luck would have it, everything I needed….sheets, pillow cases, drapes, shower curtain…..everything…..was on sale. Christmas was only a week in the past, and all the post-Christmas sales were in progress. I bought everything we needed. Color or fashion played no part in my decisions. If it was there….and on sale….I bought it.

We probably spent less than an hour in K-Mart, and when we went back to the car for the trip back home……the snow was still coming down…..heavily. Like I said, I was young. This sort of thing….driving in snow storms, on snow packed roads, in dangerous conditions….didn’t bother me much at all. To be sure, I drove more slowly than usual. I am not an idiot…. And, I am sure we were among the very few people who were driving that night on the highway. And, it is possible that I was even relieved when we pulled into the driveway of my new house. But….. We had all the things we needed to complete the furnishings of the house.

Most of the items I bought that night…..and most certainly the drapes….are still in their place at the house….even though I have not lived there for about 2 months now. I guess they were either very good quality….or I made some very good choices…..or I am just plain cheap!

 

 

 

 

Looking at the only old pictures I have of the interior…..and exterior….of the house, I am amazed how simple it was. And, how proud of it I was. I may as well have been living in a thirty room colonial southern mansion complete with Corinthian columns and ornate shutters. It was MY house…..the first and only house I ever owned….and, also….the last house I ever had any desire to own.

 

 

 

 

A lot has changed since that exciting, happy and life-changing day. The snow continued to fall during the second day….December 31, 1974…. I lived in my new house. Somehow, my nephew had been able to get out and was spending the night in town….somewhere. I was home all alone. The car was in the garage….my new garage… The road in front of my house…. It didn’t even have a name back in those days….just R. R. 2…..was impassable. But, none of that bothered me. I lay contentedly on the floor of my new front room….on the green carpet that is still there today, some 44 years later….watch TV….and waiting for the New Year to edge its way in. There were only 5 or 6 channels on TV back in 1974, so the choice of programs could not have been very large. But, back then, the programs were perhaps more “family friendly”. I could lie there watching Johnny Carson, which morphed into Guy Lombardo’s orchestra playing Auld Lang Syne at the stroke of midnight…..not some senseless hip-hop or rap music….or a movie of a dozen people being mowed down by a crazed killer…..

Shortly after midnight, I took a final look out the front door onto the snow covered landscape….and went to bed. The next morning, I awakened to bright sunshine…and the eventual sound of the snow plow….ready to being a new year and a new life in my new house.

As I look back at the first….and only….pictures I took of the house in the days after I moved in, I am constantly amazed at the simplicity….the stark austerity…..of the place….both inside and out. To be quite honest, back in the days immediately after I moved into the house, there simply wasn’t much there. But…. Do you think I cared? To me, the house was my castle! I had never owned a home before. I had never lived in a house by myself before (Well…after my nephew finally left….)

But, slowly over the years, the house evolved….just like I did, I suppose. One of the first improvement….if you can call it that….was the addition of a small wooden porch to supplement the tiny cement slab. It more than doubled the size of the porch….which isn’t saying much! I think Kevin Foley helped me build it. Over the years, the porch….which finally became a “deck”, I suppose….became larger and larger, with at least a couple additions. The final addition was added soon after I retired. Levi Beecham and a friend of his came out and extended the deck almost the entire length of the house. Wow…. What a difference that made. All that extra space….with nothing to put on it. That, of course, meant that I had to go buy some outdoor furniture…..a swing set, which eventually broke one afternoon while I was sitting in it….and a patio table and some chairs…..thanks to Rodney and Janell Watson, who picked them up for me at the spring yard sale at Ft. Leavenworth.

Keeping the deck painted was a problem….a real bummer. It seemed that no matter how many coats of primer I coated it with, the paint always started peeling off in about a year or so. For most of its life, I painted it white. Finally, I decided to use black. I am not sure why. Maybe I thought black paint wouldn’t peel off. But…. It did! In the final few years that I lived there, I simply gave up. There is probably a secret to keeping the paint from peeling….. But, I never did figure it out. Maybe it was just meant to be that way.

One of my neighbors dragged an old discarded shed out into the field…..to get rid of it, I suppose. Somehow I though perhaps he would be happy to just give it to me….and not have it sitting out among the weeds. Yes…. He gave it to me……for $75.00! But, it was cheaper than I could have built one….even if I thought I was doing a favor by taking it off his hands. It served a long, useful life, however. It housed garden tools, the lawnmower, the motorcycle….and various other toys that I accumulated. I could never keep the paint from peeling off of it, either.

It served another purpose, too. For several years, I had burned trash in the yard at the side of my house. It got to be unwieldy….and ugly….. Not to mention illegal when the county passed an ordinance forbidding individual trash burning. So, one day, Andrew Turner brought his tractor with a front scoop….along with a truck….. He loaded up all the unsightly trash, and we hauled it to the landfill. The little shed sat on the spot where the trash can used to sit. For years….up to and including the time I moved…..I still picked glass and can lids out of the soil. I was never sure where they came from….but they mysteriously appeared, especially after it rained. But, now I was abiding by the law…..although I was possibly the only household on my road who did….and the evidence was neatly covered with a useful little shed.

Shortly after Levi Beecham became my office aid at school, he volunteered to come out and assemble a metal shed which we attached to the north side of the house. It worked out pretty well, actually. There was a little concrete slab outside the garage door where I used to sit and read in the evenings. But with a nice deck, it as no longer crucial for reading. It made a great foundation for the little metal shed.

Good old Levi. That guy knows a lot of stuff! The shed came unassembled, of course….in a big box….with approximately one million parts! There was a bewildering array of metal panels, hinges, bolts, screws…… Enough to intimidate me. But, not Levi. With me as the “gofer”, he set about putting it all together without hesitation. He just “build it”.  I was pretty much in awe…..and very grateful. It, too, was an additional storage space…..a sort of “catch-all”…..and over flow…..for the garage. It served its purpose….and it is still standing. It is starting to show its age, however. The slab it is sitting on has “settled” somewhat…..and the little shed has pulled away from the house. It is still there…..still keeping stuff dry…sort of….. It will no doubt be a casualty of whomever buys the place…. But, it served its purpose. It did its job.

Speaking of Levi….and I can’t say enough good things about him…. He (along with a friend) were also responsible for building the covered patio, located just to the west of the house. It became sort of a second living area….a major place of relaxation….and also of entertainment. Looking back, I really don’t know how I survived twenty-five years without it. The year Robert Kruesemann lived with me….1998-1999….we spent one Saturday evening building a picnic table. It was a wonderful picnic table….and it is sitting in my back patio right now…..and it even looks like a picnic table! For some years, it sat in the yard…..on the grass….where Levi’s patio stands now. That, along with a swing became the first articles of furniture to grace the patio. Looking back now, they seemed rather stark and barren….just sitting there on the grass by themselves. At the time, however, they were wonderful improvement….a move into the “modern” world….into the world of luxury. A charcoal barbecue grill was added….adding another social amenity to the patio. Now I was ready to entertain….and entertain royally. In my mind, at least.

The patio evolved slowly….. First, I added a concrete slab….thanks to the help of my neighbor Matthew Erickson….with some technical assistance from a friend of mine. And, also from Matthias, one of my German exchange students. The slab, in itself, was a huge improvement. It was level; it didn’t get muddy; and there were no chiggers on it! Actually, I have never had a problem with chiggers. There is something about my blood they do not like…. Bad blood, I think. I could never convince my exchange students that chiggers are real! They don’t have chiggers in Germany, it seems. Or maybe they just do not go out into the grass as much we do. When I told them to stay out of the grass….or to wear shoes and socks because they were probably going to get eaten by the chiggers…. They just laughed. “That’s a joke….right?”…..only to find out later that night or the next morning that chiggers are real….and painful….and they itch like crazy….and it takes a day of two to get rid of the itch.  It was always one of those “I told you so” moments that I enjoyed so much. But, it was a lesson learned….and a lesson remembered.

After I retired, I finally decided to add a roof to the concrete slab….and have a covered patio. That is where Levi entered the picture again. We….He….carefully measured all the lumber we would need. We took a long trailer he had borrowed from somebody to Topeka, loaded the lumber and brought it back to my house. Over the next two or three nights, he and his friend build the patio. And, a fine looking patio it was! As I have already said, it was more or less an extension of the house….especially in the summer.

The final addition to the patio was a fire pit. Sultan was staying with me when I bought it. We constructed a base of bricks and concrete pavers….and spend an hour one cold winter evening piecing it together. Over the next three or four years, that fire pit was literally used more than the kitchen oven in preparing our meals. Well, I certainly didn’t prepare them…..but Sultan and Fayez did when they were staying at my house.

Anybody who came to my house in the very early days know that it was sort like the Little House on the Prairie. It was literally built in a horse pasture…..a former house pasture, at least. There were no trees…..anywhere. Except on the property line that divided my property from my neighbor’s property. Come to think about it, there was no grass, either, except for whatever grass…or weeds….grew in the field where the horses ate all three of their meals.

It was pretty rough….just a forlorn house in a field. Mother came up and planted some little trees…..mostly catalpa trees….which are still there today….. forty-five years later. I think she planted some elm trees, too…..but over the years, all of they died of some sort of elm tree disease. Kevin Glassel, one of my sixth grade students, a couple or three years later, also helped me plant some trees. We went out into the pasture behind my house and dug up some little evergreen trees……the kind that grow almost out of control in those kinds of places. He helped me plant them…. Three or four of them along the road directly in front of my house and two or three on the east side of the house. Except for the ones we eventually cut down to make a circle driveway years and years later, they are also still standing.

The summer that I retired….2003…..I ordered some genetically modified….fast growing….trees. Probably a dozen of them. I planted them by myself…. I even bought a “soaker” hose, snaked it around the little trees, and faithfully watered the trees for the entire summer. It must have been the right thing to do. All of the trees lived….they all developed into healthy trees. I was developing my own little forest around my house. One of my colleagues brought out a three or four trees, too…. A couple of them were ash trees (I think) and the other tree was a mulberry tree. The two ash trees (I think) are still standing. The mulberry tree?  Well, it was more problem that it was worth.  It was an open invitation to all the birds for miles around to come….feast….and leave their disgusting dropping behind. It was too close to the patio for comfort…..so I cut it down!

Of course, I didn’t even own a lawnmower. But, in the interest of developing a yard, I dutifully planted grass seed in front of the house and at the side of the house. Rather miraculously the grass grew…… I don’t know how much of the land I seeded. Probably about three-fourths of an acre. I was young then…young and naive. I bought a push mower, never considering how much work it took to mow that much lawn. For the first few years, I thought nothing of it. I just went out once a week….and spent most of the day pushing that mower back and forth across three-fourth acre of grass.

Remember….. This was still only a few steps away from being a horse pasture. It definitely was not a “lawn”….nowhere close. It was rough, still covered with “horse chips” (to put it politely)….and still with its share of obnoxious weeds mixed with the grass I had planted. Mowing was virtually an all day job, if not a two day job…..pushing and dragging that little lawnmower back and forth across the landscape. I am not sure why it never occurred to me to buy a riding lawn mower. Maybe I was just too stubborn and too cheap…..and definitely, too broke. After several years….and I am not sure exactly when it was….one of my colleagues was going to buy a new riding mower and he (or it could well have been a she)….asked me if I would be interested in buying their old riding mower. I can definitely put that on my list….and most people would say my short list….of smart ideas. Mowing the grass became much easier…if not fun….after that.

After I got my first dog….and I had three of them…. I decided that that yard would have to be fenced. At first, we constructed fence around only half the property. That seemed to be enough. Dean Edwards came out after school and helped me get it put up. This was another wise decision. Already one of my dogs had been run over….and came close to being killed….by one of my neighbors. He certainly did not like my dogs. And, I can say with a perfect degree of certainty that they did not like him! He would taunt them from the window of his pickup as he drove past….very slowly….and they never missed a chance to chase him. One day….and I really don’t think it was intentional….he ran over Moses….my second dog. After an expensive surgery and some prolonged treatment, he lived. That is when I made the decision to construct the fence.

Some years later….while Robert was living with me as an exchange student….we expanded the fence to include the entire property.

As a footnote, let me add that many years later….after I had retired…..my neighbor casually told me one morning that my fence was on their property. ‘Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said. “It is no big deal.”

I figured if it was important enough for her to tell me, it probably really was a “big deal”…..so I made plans to move it. Moving the fence was not an easy job. It took me a while for it to soak in that if I moved the fence 20 feet on the west side of the property…..then I would also have to move it 20 feet on the east side, also. And….before I could move the fence anywhere, I had to take the fence down first. So, it was a double sided job…..and something that I could obviously not do by myself. I got my neighbor boy, Todd Erickson, to help me. This was a few years before he was so tragically and unexpectantly killed in a one-vehicle accident. Anyway, every day after school for four or five days, he came over….and slowly but surely, we moved the fence about 20 feet or so to the east….on both sides of the property.

OK….. Now I had a strip of land 20 feet across…..and probably 200-300 feet long. This land had not been touched by a lawnmower…..or any other sort of mower, for that matter. At irregular intervals, cattle grazed there. But, it was wild, unkept land….part of the horse pasture from which the land for my house was carved. I set about clearing it….making it usable as part of the lawn. And, it was not an easy job. The grass…and weeds….was easily 12 – 18 inches tall. Starting with the highest setting on the lawnmower….and gradually lowering it….I made at least thee runs over the land before I actually had it under control. Of course, now the east border of my land was 20 feet beyond the tree line that I had planted. Tough! I was not about the move the trees!

The entire boundary situation was almost something out of a comic book. First of all, I had seen the metal survey marker which marked the west edge of my property. But, I did not have a clue what it was…..certainly not that it marked the boundary of my property. As for the wild, untamed pasture to the east. Well…. At time, two women lived there. They actually owned the property. I really didn’t know them because they never invited me into their house. Each Christmas they always brought cookies or candy to me…..and every Christmas I always took them some small gift. They would never come into my house….and they never invited me into their house. They were “partners”….but I never understood what that had to do with me.

One evening after Todd and I had finished relocating the fence, Suzie…Todd’s mother….stopped at my house. She was more friendly with them….. She told me that they believed that all the land….the pasture….to the west of them, and to the east of me….belonged to me. That is why they never took care of it….never mowed it…. That was a shock to me. Man, if I had owned the land, I would certainly have been taking care of it. And, they apparently thought I was some sort of slob for NOT taking care of it.

I located the deed to my house. I had to in order to know where my property line should be. I already knew what land belonged to me….and what land did not belong to me. So….and remember, the fence had already been relocated….I took the deed…..and accompanied by Suzie….otherwise I would never had made it into their house…..we walked over to their house to convince them that I did not own the land. They indeed owned the land. I really don’t think they were convinced. “The people at the courthouse told us that the land is yours,” they kept saying.  I don’t know…. They looked at the deed….looked at each other….looked at Suzie…..and probably never looked at me.   Anyway…. Nothing changed. I cleared the land that I owned…..reclaimed it as part of my lawn.  And, the rest of the land? It simply stayed like it had always been…wild and untamed.

Shortly after this incident, I decided to undertake a major “beautification” project…..and I did it without help from anybody. One of the first things I was to add a wooden fence on the east side of the lawn. It didn’t replace anything, but it provided a kind of shield….and gave a little bit of privacy to the backyard…. And, most important: It kept the neighbor’s dogs from getting into my yard. This was back in the days when I still fought a losing battle with the neighbor’s dogs.  I bought a lot of fencing boards and build a fence from the east edge of the deck to the tree line on the east….which used to be my property line. It took an entire afternoon to build the fence, but when it was finished, I thought it looked pretty tough! Now….some fifteen years later, the trees and other vegetation have grown so thick that it can not be seen from the road…. And, I simply gave up on trying to keep the neighbor’s dogs out of the yard.

The front of my house looked like a virtual flower shop! I hung flowers everywhere….from the deck, from the house, from the fence posts, from the patio…. Please notice that I used the word “hung”…..not “planted”. These were all artificial flowers…. The best kind! They do not die…. They do not lose leaves or petals….They require no watering; there were no weeds to worry about. They stayed in bloom year round….and brightened up the front of the house year round..  I am a great believer in artificial flowers!

Levi and a friend cut down the dead elm trees…..while I trimmed the others. We left the trunk of one large elm tree….and I painted it red, white and blue. These are the colors of our flag….and that is what I had in mind when I painted it.  Everybody else, however, merely assumed that I had painted it the colors of Kansas University. Well…..not really.  But, that will work, too.

I suppose I could continue to go on and on….. For many years, I thoroughly enjoyed working outside….doing little things around the yard and the house…..trying to make the property look as nice as possible. Back in those days, it literally never occurred to me that someday I would be moving away…..leaving it all behind. Even if I had…. Chances are I would have made all the changes anyway.

One pleasant interlude that I remember fondly is what I call ‘My Boat Days”. Shortly after the house was completed, and I had moved there, I had the opportunity to buy a 12 feet aluminum boat….complete with motor and trailer. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I think I paid $75.00 for the entire unit. Wow…. Was I excited about owning a boat….and a trailer…..and a motor. I immediately got the boat licensed…. Got the numbers to stick on both sides of the boat. I felt like a Big Dog…..

The boat was only 12 feet long….and it was made of aluminum….but it may as well have been a 100 feet yacht! Almost every afternoon during the summer months, I hooked the boat and the trailer to the car, and we headed toward the river. The Delaware River was probably a half mile….or a little more or less than that, maybe….directly behind my house. The nearest place where we could put the boat into the water was about two miles west of my house, down a dead-end road that ended at the river. That was close enough for me. Most of the time one of my neighbors…..one of the Farrs…..went with me. Other times somebody from town would come out for a boat ride.

I was not very skillful in backing up the boat trailer. Well…. I just plain never got the hang of it. But, it didn’t make any difference. Two people could easily carry the boat from the trailer to the river. We would strap on our life jackets….and take off….usually upstream toward Valley Falls. I had to wear a life jacket…. I don’t know how to swim.  At one time in a much earlier life, I took swimming lessons; I swear, I knew how to swim. They say that once a person learns how to swim….he will never forget…. Much like learning to ride a bicycle. I can still ride a bicycle! But…. I cannot swim!

Not knowing how to swim certainly did not deter me from enjoying the water, however. At regular intervals, we  pulled the boat over to the river bank, tied it to a log or tree….and jumped into the water. Actually, I didn’t jump…. I very carefully eased myself into the water until the water was perhaps chest deep. With my trusty life jacket, I was not afraid to pick up feet up and float along on the surface of the river. I could actually go through the motions of swimming….with the safety and assurance of the good old life jacket.

After a while, we would climb back into the boat and proceed up the river until we found another suitable place to tie the boat. More than likely, one or both of my dogs….Amos and Moses….were with us. Amos loved to swim, and we had our hands full just trying to keep him from jumping out of the boat into the river. I think he may have been part beaver! Moses, on the other hand, was much more cautious. He had to be coaxed into the water. He would almost always get into the water…..and swim directly to me….where he would stay, paddling his feet, treading water, until I returned to the boat.

The furthest distance we ever took the boat was a mile or so beyond Valley Falls….probably a good 8 miles from out starting point. We always carried a can of gasoline, because usually we would have to fill up the tank at some point along the way.

The fun lasted for maybe three summers…..and then for various reasons, the trips to the river became fewer and fewer. Maybe the “new” had worn off….maybe we found other things to do. I kept the boat for several years, however.  After the Farrs kids had all grown up,  gotten married…..moved away….the boat sat pretty much unused…. A symbol of several summers of good fun.

At some point along the way, I traded the boat to my new neighbor in exchange for him building a new barbed wire fence between his land and mine. He was a spooky guy in the most literal sense….a Vietnam veteran, although I never knew exactly where he served….. I went to their house a couple times after they moved there.  I wanted to introduce myself to him and his wife….and hopefully, become friendly neighbors. He never invited me into their house.  He always came outside to talk…..and those conversations were short and one-sided….my side! His wife never came outside to meet me….and he never called for her to come out. In fact, now that I think back, I don’t ever recall meeting her or even seeing her…..except at a distance. He made me rather uneasy….something was not quite right about the situation. Oh no…. I never expected him to come and kill me in my sleep or anything like that.  But, on the other hand, I knew rather quickly that these were not people whom I wanted to be my friends….and I certainly had no desire to hang out with them.  I mean…. What was it about my new neigbors? A couple weirdos who don’t invite me into their house…..and a couple lesbians who won’t invite me into their house…. I like to think that neither of couples like “normal” people…… Like me!

One day he came to my house and said that he wanted to build a new fence…..and that according to the law, I was responsible for half the cost. I had never heard of such a law, but he insisted that that such a law existed. BUT…. If I was willing to give him the boat and the trailer, he would  “call it even”. The boat had been sitting idle for a few years….unused….untouched. So, being naive and gullible, I agreed to the deal. I later found that this law or agreement applies only to farmers….both of whom own livestock. My house is zoned “residential”…..and obviously I owned no livestock. Obviously, I had been taken advantage of…. But, aside from branding him as an anti-social jerk, I let the matter go by. I just wasn’t worth the effort to make an issue of it.

Speaking of neighbors….and I am talking of the various people who occupied the former Farr House….. One family who lived there temporarily had in excess of 15 dogs. They roamed the countryside at will….unrestrained….. Regularly, they tore open the trash bags that I set beside the road every Wednesday morning…..scattering the trash around the driveway and road. If I caught it in time, I was compelled to take another trash bag….go out and gather the trash….. If I did not catch it…..the trash collectors would simply by-pass my house, leaving the mess lying there. Other neighbors threatened to kill the dogs…. Normally, I would never think of killing a dog.  But, I was in this case, they would have had my full blessing.

The last family to live there before I moved was a semi-black family. The husband/father was black. It was a multi-generational family. At least three generations lived there. Shortly after they moved there, I noticed a K. U. Jayhawk sign hanging on the garage. “Well,” I thought, “They must have a little bit of sophistication.”  I stopped a couple times to meet them and introduce myself. I drove into their driveway, got out and knocked on their front door….loudly. Waited….knocked again…. Nobody came to the door. As I said, I did this twice. Same results. Who knows? Maybe they didn’t see or hear me drive up in front of their house.  Maybe they didn’t hear me banging on their door. Or maybe they just didn’t want to meet me.  Maybe the third time would have been a charm, as they say. But, there was no third time. I never went back.  If they wanted to meet me….and obviously they did not….they could come to my house.

Actually, this family lived there longer than most tenants did…..maybe four or five years. One day I became aware that they were apparently moving….and then they were gone.  A couple weeks later the house caught on fire…..and was completely destroyed.

Also while I am thinking about it….  It seems a little unusual that my “weird” neighbors were always located to the east of me.  I am not sure what that says…..and I am not going to try to analyze it.  “Beware of strangers from the East?”…..  Who knows?  My good neighbors….my stable neighbors lived in the houses immediately west of me.  I say “stable” because they owned their land…. their “house” was their “home”…..not just a place to stay while they were passing through.

Noland and Wanita Schneider lived in the house immediately to the west when we build the “Ranch”.  Although I really didn’t see much of them…..they were considerably older than me….they were always friendly…..even if Noland appeared to intensely dislike my dogs…and even ran over one of them….unintentionally, I am sure.  They always waved as they drove past, and we spoke to each other on those rare occasions when we were both in our yards at the same time.

Scott Erickson bought the property from the Schneiders, and they have lived their ever since.  First Scott and Suzie…..and then Scott and Kim.  They were model neighbors….helpful and kind beyond a fault.  Dependable and always keeping an eye on me….and the property.  Always ready and willing to offer a helping hand.

I am always amused when I think back to the days when Matthew was only a little boy…..riding his four-wheeler up and down the road….going nowhere….just up and down the road….most of the time with his younger brother, Todd, behind him with his arms wrapped around Matthew’s waist.

Later, an almost daily sight was Matthew driving the tractor down the road.  In the early days, he was standing up……because his feet probably would not reach the pedals if he were sitting down.  He always had a smile on is face….and waved enthusiastically as he drove past.  I was never sure if he was going somewhere….or if he was out “joy riding”…..

Suzie watched my house like an eagle.  If somebody drove into the driveway, she noticed….and told me.  If the fence gate came open, she would go close it.  People would often ask if this bothered me:  Heavens NO!  I was glad somebody was looking out for me.

I am not sure how many times Scott mowed my lawn….without being asked…..when I was having various health problems.  It was a lot.  I always wanted to pay him (I never want to seem like an “old man”), but, in time, I learned that there was no point asking…..because he was not going to accept anything.

They…. he and Kim….readily agreed to be a contact for the Emergency Alert bracelet that I wore….. And there were even a couple times when they were called by First Responders…..always due to sort of malfunction….not an emergency, thank Heavens….

A little further away….maybe a couple hundred yards off the road, lived the Vanhooziers….Dan and Sherry.   They were also stalwarts in their concern for my health and well being.  They constantly reminded me that they were available and ready to help any time I need it.   They, too, kept an eye on my property for anything unusual or out of the ordinary.

We had a standing agreement to take care of each other’s mail when one of was away from home for an extended period of time.   I think it might have been a “draw” in who picked up whose mail the most.  They may have been gone more often…..but I may have been gone of longer lengths of time.  Nevertheless, the arrangement worked out well…..and saved both of us less worry and concern.

And, I always looked forward to Sherry’s home baked cookies and candy at Christmas time.

These were the neighbors that were difficult to leave behind.  They were the sort of neighbors who made life more enjoyable and pleasant….and who made living “in the boondocks” a joy.

Reality was a vast difference from my vision when I first moved into the house. As I mentioned elsewhere in this blog, when I moved there, there were only three other families living on the two-mile dead-end road that led from the Ferguson Road to the Delaware River. I had envisioned myself retiring….spending my idle time at the Farrs drinking coffee, gossiping, playing cards…. Well….. That was nothing but a dream not come true.

I am can’t complain….because there is no reason to complain. I had suddenly evolved from renting a small, rather rickety mobile home of maybe  300-400 square feet….neighbors only a few feet way on both sides….to my own home of about 900 livable square feet located on one and a forth acres of land. I turned a barren horse pasture into a pleasant and shady lawn, full of trees and a nice patio. Over the years, I transformed an almost barren house into my own library and gallery of memories that I had collected over the decades. I had my own office to house the mementos of my professional and “official” life, along with two computers to play with each day. I had a messy bedroom of my own….and a much neater bedroom for my exchange students and other guests.

It was my castle…. Anybody who walked into my house knew it was mine….a one of a kind. And that is the way I wanted it to be….the way I liked it…. A few well-meaning friends would sometimes comment, “Beryl, you’ve got to get rid of some of this stuff.”

Get rid of some of my stuff? You got to be joking. I was constantly looking for ways to create more “space” so I could add more!

Forty-nine years is a long time….. That is well over half of my entire life…. To write about all the memories that I collected and stored during that time would literally fill a good size book….and I can imagine that you are already thinking that this essay already seems like reading a book…. But, there are so many other things…..

For example, I have barely, if at all, even mentioned the three dogs that I owned during my time there. Actually, I got Amos shortly after I moved there. He was still a baby pup. He was advertised as a German shepherd….and I had always wanted a German shepherd. He was so little when I first saw him and took him home. I was convinced that he was really a German shepherd. He surely did look like it. I had to feed him by hand; I put some newspapers on the bathroom floor….and that was his home while I was working….. As he grew older….and grew up…..it was fairly obvious that he was not what he was advertised to be. Yeah…. I guess not many people who respond to an advertisement that says, “We have some puppies to give away. We have no idea what kind they are. They were purely “accidental” puppies…. Come and get one.” But, he was a great dog….and he died much too soon….unexpectantly and maybe unnecessarily….at the veterinary’s office…..while I was on vacation…..around 1983..

My second dog….and I named him Moses….overlapped a few years with Amos. He belonged to a colleague of mine. She lived on a farm….and she had told me that they were looking for a home for him. I drove out to her farm, southwest of town….to see him….and to take him home with me. That is when I found out that no human being had ever touched him. Although he had been born there…. He was…..for all practical purposes….a wild dog. Somebody….probably some of their hired help….chased him down….trapped him…..and delivered him….shaking, quivering, scared half to death….to me. I bought him home. His first home was in the garage. I had constructed a fence across the front of the garage….probably 4 feet high….put down some straw for his bed….a water dish…. Every day before going to work and after coming home from work, I would pick him up, sit on the back step, hold him, pet him and talk to him. I could feel him shaking…. After a few days, he began to calm down… He would actually come to me… He became “my” dog.  He was actually the only one of my three dogs who actually had any interested in “protecting” me. Even if I was only playing around, he would growl menacingly if he perceived it to be serious. He died peacefully at the age of 17 years.

After Moses died, I was heart-broken. He had been with me for 17 years….one of my closest companions, always there….forever faithful…. But, life goes on…. I was determined that I would never have another pet…. I swore: No more dogs. There were two or three reasons for this: Ever since I moved to the house, I had never been without a dog. And…. I loved my dogs. They were part of my family….just as dogs are part of most families.

Whenever I wanted to go somewhere, I would merely pack up the dogs into the back of my pickup and take them to my mother’s house in Lyons. If people think I spoiled and pampered my dogs…. Wow, they should have seen the royal treatment they got from my mother. They loved my mother….and my mother loved them. I doubt if they were even aware that I was gone.  In fact, I remember at least one time when I returned from a trip to the Oregon Coast. It was probably one of the usual three week trips. Anyway, when I returned to Mother’s house to pick them up….One of them….and I think it was Moses….actually growled at me when I first entered the house! I was startled. However, when he heard my voice, he immediately recognized me…..and was wagging his tail with joy. But, sadly, Mother died in 1994, and I no longer had a guaranteed place to take my dogs when I would be out of town for an extended period of time. Having a pet of any kind ties a person down. They must be fed and watered…. They must be taken care of. I suppose if a parents were cruel enough, they could actually leave a child by themselves (and for pity sakes….I am certainly not suggesting….advocating….and approving this!!)….put enough food in the refrigerator….leave enough clean clothes….tell him to leave the door locked…..not to admit any strangers…..etc…. But, with a dog….any pet…..it not possible to do these things. Somebody has to be there to take care of them….. At least, to feed and water them….to make sure they are doing OK.

I found that not having a pet gave me a lot more freedom….less worry…. I could some and go freely, and not be concerned or worried about shirking my duty to care for my pet.

The second reason I decided getting against any more dogs, was:   It is simply too hard for me to lose them. They become part of my family….They become my friend and companion….. Losing them is very personal….and dealing with their loss is something I always wish to avoid.

I “enjoyed” a couple years…. It could have been more or less….without any pet. It had never entered my mind to get one. Then one day….one fateful Saturday morning….there was a knock at the front door. It was one of my neighbors from across the road. She was standing there with a reddish-brown dog. I assumed it was her dog who rode along with her. Wrong! I invited her inside….dog and all…. After all, my house had been home to dogs from several years. That was nothing unusual. I can’t even think of her name now. I do remember that she was an art teacher somewhere, though. The dog was jumping upon me….licking me….wagging her tail…. She was obviously a happy dog….never mistreated…fond of attention….. After a minimum of small talk, she got directly to the point. “I think you need another dog,” she said. “You have always had one….and I think you are lonely without one.  Abby is the perfect dog for you. She was dropped off in front of our house the other day. She seems to be house broken…. She is a healthy and happy dog…. She will fit right into your life….”

In the meantime, Abby,…… She had already been named….was running around the room, sniffing here and there…..and then darting back over to me…..jumping into my lap….licking my face…. Just like were were meant to be friends.

I still do not know why I agreed to take her….and take her on the spot! Maybe I felt sorry for her. Maybe I was worried what would become of her….. Maybe I just fell in love with her…. But, nevertheless, my neighbor left….alone. And, I had suddenly acquired a new pet. Something I had never thought I would do again.

Abby was with me through all the years I had exchange students….except for my very first one….and for a few years after that, even. And…..Yes, I was right. Finding somebody to take care of her when I made trips with my exchange students…or when I went to Germany during the summer…. Well, I had to find somebody to take care of her. And, Yes! It was difficult. Maybe it wasn’t so difficult to find somebody to agree to take care of her…..but it was most definitely difficult to find somebody whom I could trust! I went through a series of various “volunteers”….some of which were better than others….but none of which I ever asked to to it twice….. Sorry, you guys, if any of you are reading this….

When Abby died peacefully one afternoon in 2005, I made an irrevocable decision to never get another pet….. But, my pets….my dogs….have been been an inexorable part of the Darrah Ranch….since its inception. The fence that surrounds the property is certainly a monument to them. The pet doors that allowed them to enter and leave the house freely are reminders…..their food and water bowls that sat in the kitchen by the hallway….and the star that Robert glued on a cabinet door in front of their food and water…..the hours of sweeping up pet hair…..the daily inspection for ticks each day when I returned from work….. the frequent trips to Paradise Point for “enrichment”…. All of these things are interwoven into my memories of the many years I spent living there.

One more thing I want to mention…. I used to joke….and still do….that everything in the house was home made, except for the TV and the computers! The house was crammed full of shelves, desks, tables, cabinets…. All of these were custom made by my friends and me….. Even the bed I slept in, compliments of some valuable help by Chris Saathoff and his girl friends (now his wife….) When I wanted or needed another shelf, etc., I would either build it myself….or call a friend to come and help me. And, my house was literally full of such self-constructed items…. Shelves to hold approximately 1200 books….shelves for gifts from my former school students and former foreign exchange students, gifts from my family, souvenirs from my travels… Desks for my office; shelves to hold a veritable history of my life (I saved everything!) shelves for the garage and its every expanding collection of “home improvement” tools….

As I mentioned earlier, many people were somewhat taken aback when the saw my house for the first time…. Yeah…. I am sure it was somewhat of a visual “overload” for them. But…. Yeah….I worked hard to make it that way…. It was a my house. Somebody gave me a little saucer that says, “This is my house….and I will do as I darn please.” And, that is exactly how I felt. I made my house as comfortable…as inviting…as non-threatening….as welcoming….and as friendly as I could. I made it the sort of house that I wanted to live in. I made it for me! Not for somebody else. I was the one who lived there. If visitors somebody didn’t like my house…. Then… There is the door. You can leave the same way you came in! Fortunately, it never came to this….nowhere close…. Yes…. Come on in. No you do not have to take your shoes off. No, you really do not need a coaster for your drinks. Go ahead and put your feet on the coffee table, if that will make you more comfortable. The drinks are in the refrigerator. Go get one, if you want to…..and, would you also please bring me one, too? If you are hungry, go ahead and make you something to eat. Just make sure you do your own dishes….and put them away!

That was the Darrah Ranch.

In time….as I got older….taking care of the house….the yard….the repairs…..the wood… It started to become too much. The “Glory Days” were over. It was time to move on.