Cheek to Cheek (From days with Mom) by Carolyn Graham

Cheek to Cheek (From days with Mom) by Carolyn Graham

 

 

Carolyn Graham·Saturday, September 10, 2016

 

A tender kiss on heaven's mound,

A baby's cheek endears us

With hint of pink and soft like silk,

Emotion spills in surplus

Warm summer sun and cold winter wind

Blister a virgin palette

A tear rolls down and smiles caress

A face that tells about it

Strong arms, swift feet and youth ablaze

Adorn from head to toes

As time ticks by and daddy waits

For perfect lips, for blush of rose

Friends and family congregate

To join celebration

Of two becoming one in heart

With hugs and jubilation

Once again, a tear drop falls

Across the cheeks together

Melting years into a moment

Stretching tent and tether

Babe becomes a mother,

Mother into grand

As future becomes past again

Like hour glass grains of sand

Why does the elder lady smooth

Two ruby circles strong?

Does she not see that look is tired

Nor hear the ancient song…

Returning refrains of a lullaby

An infant so endearing…

Sweetheart, bride and mother dear

As through a curtain peering

Dawn awakens deep within

A woman loved and wanted,

To be with those who knew her well

With rosy cheeks undaunted

So brush it on, paint so strong

The boldness with joy laden

Some shocked, embarrassed, but may you know…

Her image never fading

A pony may not be the best choice of childhood gift

Gary, Stewart and Betty on Peanuts about 1965

In case you happened to miss it, a week ago today was Siblings Day.
I dug out a childhood photo of my brothers and me on our pony, Peanuts, in honor of the occasion, and it took me on a bumpy trip down memory lane.

My brothers and I don’t agree on everything, but we are unanimous on this: If you want to abuse your children, get them a pony.

I was too young to remember exactly how Peanuts came into our life.

I do know we were not his first family, because by the time he arrived in our world, he had already perfected his ability to make sure small and unsuspecting riders had very little time to settle into the saddle before being brushed off, knocked off, tipped off, or dumped off.

If you grew up with a tender and loving pony who was your best childhood friend, well, I am happy for you, but I cannot relate.

Peanuts was a conniving character cleverly disguised as an adorable fuzzy black and white Shetland pony.

He fooled plenty of people at first glance, but he could have you on the ground before you even had a chance to scream, “Peanuts! Noooo!”

Peanuts and I were partners in what was one of the most boneheaded moments of my childhood — although to be fair, it was entirely my fault.

We had Peanuts in the yard, all saddled up, and I’d just finished a ride (or more likely freshly fallen off of him). I decided to go into the house for a cold drink but needed to tie him up first.

Keep in mind that our yard was filled with fixed objects —fence posts, trees, porch poles, porch railings … and a tetherball pole.

If you’re too young to remember tetherball, every school playground used to have one. It was a game designed to enable big strong quick kids to knock the daylights out of their smaller slower classmates (not unlike the pony/child relationship at our house).

It features a vertical pole maybe 8 to 10 feet tall with a volleyball attached to a piece of rope and “tethered” at the top of the pole.

Somehow my young brain thought it would be a good idea to tie Peanuts to this ball before I went into the house.

Not the pole, mind you -- not the piece of pipe that was set in a chunk of concrete. No, my brilliant thinking (which may have been addled because of time spent with Peanuts) was to loop the reins around the rope from which the ball dangled.

Peanuts stood calmly as I left, giving me enough time to reach the house because I remember with startling clarity watching what happened next from inside our screen door.

As Peanuts moved, so did the ball, which was dangling at about eye level for him.

He panicked and tried to escape. The ball stayed with him.

As I watched in horror — and in what seemed like slow motion — Peanuts dug in his adorable little pony hooves and pulled that pipe all the way to one side until it broke off.

I don’t remember what happened after that, but I do know at some point an adult must have intervened and captured the pony, cut him loose from the ball and the pole, and chastised me for my stupidity.

I do know that I have never forgotten the lesson Peanuts taught me that day: Never tie your pony to a tetherball.

And if your kids or grandkids beg for a pony, well, you’ve been warned.

Betty Williamson is still leery of ponies and tetherballs.

Pecos Coy Wilson - by Stewart

Railroad Pens in Kenna NM, 1990

Running N shipping day at the old railroad pens in Kenna NM, 1990. That's Pecos Coy Wilson on the black horse, Tim Bob Wilson behind Coy, Monte Howard on the fence, and Tommy Haley on the right looking over the fence. Photo by the Fort Chile Flash, Scot Stinnett.

I first became acquainted with Coy Wilson in the mid 1970's. I was just a green kid trying to learn the game. I figured out right quick that Coy was special. He was an expert at handling any type of cattle in any situation, plenty ropey, and a good hand with a horse. The whole enchilada. Best of all, Coy was fun! Coy was entertaining to work with, and to visit with in a social setting.

One time, probably in the late 1980's, Coy, Mack Ainsworth, and myself were sitting in my living room having a cold one or two. Coy was telling stories, Blackie and I were soaking them up like a sponge. In the middle of the session, Coy says: "waal, there was 60 sections in the West Lit, they fed it with a wagon." Then he jumped onto another story. In a little bit Coy left to go home. The instant he was out the door, Blackie and I looked at each other and asked the same question. If there was 60 sections in the West Lit, how big was the East Lit? And did they feed it with a wagon too? Blackie and I joked about that for years. Looking back now I wonder if the West Lit might have been a ranch, instead of just a pasture. For some reason that never occurred to Blackie and me. Our consumption of Coors Light wasn't always conducive to cognizant behavior lol. Back to the story, feeding 60 sections with a wagon would have been no small feat!

Coy was something of a cowboy philosopher, and he is still quoted today from time to time. Coy on banking: "waal, banks will lend you more than you can pay back, but they won't lend you enough to make the deal work." A rather profound statement. My personal favorite Coyism: "waal, everyone says they want a good little ranch....... I'd just like to have a big sorry one." If I had a dollar for every time Coy said "waal," I'd have a lot of dollars lol.
Coy was a top hand at the art of tantalizing. Quite a few of the cowboys I grew up around were pretty handy at it. Coy was the champ. Coy was so masterful at it and approached it in such a good natured way that the tantalizee couldn't help but be amused and roll along with it. Ask me how I know this lol.

Coy and I were both pallbearers at Top Preuit's funeral. There was a meal before the service, and Coy and I wound up outside visiting. He proceeded to tell me what would become one of my all time favorite stories. Coy, Top, and Harry Strain had hauled some cattle to Clovis the evening before the sale. Then they eased down to a watering hole to quench their thirst. They're in there having a cold one and shooting pool. Two gals approach and ask if they would care to dance. Coy and Harry politely declined. So one of the gals asks Top. Top replies: "well, I'd love to but I can't. You see, I'm a preacher.......and it's against my religion to dance". The gal was kind of taken back. She told Top: "you mean to tell me that you are a preacher...... and you are in here drinking and smoking....... but you won't dance? To which Top replied: "well ma'am, I've got to draw the line somewhere." You can't make this stuff up lol

I miss the good ole days!

Nancy Ruth Godwin (1928 - 2017)

Nancy Ruth Godwin

Obituary for Nancy Williamson 
Nancy Ruth (Godwin) Williamson, 88, died just before sunrise on Monday, May 8, 2017, in the bedroom she and her late husband, Jim, built almost 60 years ago onto the family home in south Roosevelt County. An informal family memorial service is planned for a later date. 

Nancy was born on July 19, 1928, in Cleveland, OH, to Norman Alfred and Roma (Lenz) Godwin. Her father died when Nancy was only five years old, leaving her mother with three young children to raise through the Depression years.


From the time she could walk, Nancy was smitten with horses, and the little girl from the big city had one completely unlikely dream: To marry a cowboy and live on a ranch. 

Nancy graduated in 1946 from John Marshall High School in Cleveland. She worked for a time for the Cuyahoga County Public Library system, and remembered handling books written by the science fiction writer Jack Williamson, who would eventually become her brother-in-law. 

Later, she worked at the Cleveland Music School Settlement, and spent years serving as an usher for events at the Cleveland Public Auditorium, where she got to brush shoulders with visiting Broadway stars, feed apples to the elephants from Ringling Brothers circuses, and have free tickets to her beloved Metropolitan Opera each year during Met week.
 
After her mother died, Nancy learned of an opportunity to do secretarial work as civilian support staff for the U.S. Army in post-World War II Japan. She signed up for one year, and loved it so much that she extended twice, living in the Tokyo area from 1954-1957. 

A lifelong writer of wonderful letters, Nancy kept in touch with her stateside friends and family with regular handwritten correspondence. One of her old schoolmates, Bobbie Wolf, had settled in Crossroads, NM, and she wrote that she had a cowboy “all dusted off” for Nancy to meet after she returned to the states.
 
In 1957, Nancy made a cross-country journey by bus that included a swing through eastern New Mexico. She wasn’t so sure about the cowboy—Jim Williamson—but “he came from such a nice family” that when he followed her back to Cleveland several weeks later and proposed, she said yes. 

They were married in Cleveland, OH, on Nov. 26, 1957, and honeymooned home with visits to the Chicago and Kansas City stockyards because Jim wasn’t one to waste an opportunity like that. Nancy always noted that they were the only honeymooners at both places.

They settled on the family ranch southeast of Pep, adding on an addition to the home built by Jim’s parents. In a few years, they had their own little herd of toddlers—three babies born within two and a half years. Nancy enjoyed every aspect of ranch life, especially any opportunity to spend time on horseback.
 
She was an active and involved mother as her children went through the Dora schools, remembered by many kids as “the candy and cupcake lady” who often had treats waiting after school. 

Through long hours of diligence, Nancy turned a grass burr and goathead-riddled patch of lawn into a wonderful yard surrounded by dozens of trees, her “oasis” that reminded her of Ohio.
 
Nancy loved to travel, and she and her family went on many memorable trips together. She and Jim were members of the Conestoga Good Sam Club in Portales, sharing many years of RV travel all over New Mexico and Texas. After Jim entered a long era of multiple surgeries, most of their travel was for medical reasons, but wherever Nancy went she enjoyed striking up conversations with strangers who often were added to her long Christmas card list.
 
For more than 20 years, she made regular cruises on the Delta Queen steamboat plying the rivers of the American heartland. Many of the passengers and crew became cherished friends.
 
In 1995, Nancy was delighted to welcome two granddaughters who were born seven months apart from each other. She was so proud of her girls, and loved watching them grow up. 

Several years ago, Nancy’s world started to grow smaller as she entered her own era of declining health, but she never lost her childlike wonder of the natural world. She spent hours each day looking out her “window on the world,” the picture window she and Jim put in their living room where she could watch birds, keep an eye on the weather, spot distant wildlife, and enjoy the daily sunset. 

In her lifetime, she turned colorful mountains of yarn into afghans for anyone who even hinted they were interested. The scraps became “glass socks” that she crocheted by the hundreds and scattered to homes all over the United States.
 
As her world continued to shrink, Nancy enjoyed visits from dear friends, hours of coloring, and the almost constant companionship of Andy Griffith and the rest of the folks from Mayberry who provided a soothing background to her life. On weekly visits to Portales, she relished time spent in “the best library in the world,” the Portales Public Library, where the books provided endless hours of entertainment, and the librarians were kind and thoughtful friends. 

Her adopted daughter, Tish McDaniel, was a constant source of joy and laughter; and honorary family members Louise Shoemaker and Patrice Caldwell were loyal to the end. Her niece, Sherry Snyder, and husband Allan, of Greeley, Colorado, stayed with her on numerous occasions to provide loving respite care. The compassionate staff of Kindred Hospice made it possible for Nancy to finish her life on the ranch she loved.
 
Besides her parents, Nancy was preceded in death by her husband, Jim Williamson, who died in 2009; and two brothers, Norman Alfred Godwin, Jr., and Ralph Godwin. 

Survivors include her three children and their spouses: Stewart (Toni) Williamson of Portales; Betty Williamson (Milz Bickley) of Pep; and Gary (Christine) Williamson of San Antonio, TX; two granddaughters, Chloe Williamson of Boston, MA; and Katie Bickley of Northfield, MN; two sisters-in-law, Alice Godwin of Sierra Vista, AZ, and Evelyn Godwin of Cleveland, OH; numerous nieces and nephews; and her “inner circle” of beloved friends and adopted family members. 

Out of their bottomless gratitude for the years of kindness shown to Nancy, the family respectfully requests memorial contributions be directed to the Portales Public Library, 218 South Avenue B, Portales, NM 88130. 




Betty:
  In honor of International Women’s Day, this is my mother and immigrant grandmother in a photo taken in the 1940s. I share much with these two women although I seem to have missed the polka dot gene. And I’m okay with that.

Nancy and Grandmother Roma -1940s

Pa, the deer and the Indians

Told to Larry about 1961 and repeated here in 2019. I may have imagined part of this. If anyone remembers it better, feel free to help.
 ----
I had asked Pa about carring pistols when he was young like they did on the Gunsmoke TV series. He didn't carry a pistol, almost nobody did. "You couldn't hit anything with a barrel that short. Only a few young hot-heads hanging out in the bars wore pistols."  He carried a rifle as most adults did.

Pa then told me about riding a horse on a long trip into Texas. He was riding along through the trees when he realized there were a few young braves kinda trailing him. The didn't look very aggressive, but did seemed overly interested in him. He tried to seem like he didn't notice them.

 Anyway, being on the lookout for some fresh trail meet he carried his rifle across his lap as he sat in the saddle, so it would be handy. He noticed a deer in the trees off to one side, a little ahead. He eased the horse to a stop and just barely turned the rifle around in his lap without picking it up. That would have scared the deer. He pulled the trigger and got the deer in the head! It feel dead instantly.

He rode on up to it an cut a small portion for himself. The young braves came up cautiously. He gave them the rest of the deer. They then left. Seems shooting the deer from his lap brought him great respect from them.

Donnie - Early on the Ranch

We, Buds family, went to a branding at the ranch. I think I was still preschool age. Some time after or during the branding I was wanting to ride daddy's horse, the big palomino (?name help). He let me ride him and I did OK until I headed toward the house from the coral. He was willing to go faster then and did. We were off to a good run which I could not control. Runaway to the house. Wild and fast. I was on daddy's saddle so I was way too short to ride that one. It was bumpy and I was sliding back and forth in the saddle about to fall off. On each side I would put my foot in the stirrup and push back up on the top. I almost made it to the house when I missed the stirrup and fell off the horse. The fall knocked me out and I woke up on grandmas bed with everyone standing around looking at me like I was in big trouble. 

Here is another story. 

About uncle Jim his horse Chief and me Donnie.

I was very little at the time. Uncle Jim was going to get the cows west of the coral. Probably the milk cows. I think I was too small to ride my own horse so I was going to ride with Jim. After he saddled up ole Chief he set me in the saddle and the rodeo was on. Ole Chief did not like little kids at all. He commenced to bucking and threw me off. I think I flew all the way to the moon and it took a long time for me to come back to earth. The dirt in the coral was really soft at the time so no broken bones but I still remember how long I flew through the air before the dirt reached up and hit me. I don't think I got to go for the cows that day.

Go Cart - Larry & Stewart

Someone, one of Mama's friends, gave me this set of Soap Box Derby wheels and axles when her son entered the second year. These were his old ones. I put many miles on them, build into various contraptions. This was one of the earlier models, before I thought of brakes.

Our house in Princess Jean Park, Albuquerque, was in the last row of houses before the desert mesa on th eastern edge of town. There was significant slope to the street, so downhill racers worked well.

Larry & Stewart abt.1962

So one summer day Jim and Nancy came to visit. I had been riding down the street and enjoying my cart. Mama suggested that Stewart might like a ride. Nancy did NOT want me to take, but it might be OK if Daddy did.

Well Daddy hadn't as much practice as me, so as he came down the hill, got going a little fast and tried to turn into our street, he hit the curb and they both fell off. Stewart got a little road-rash on the forehead, Daddy was OK.

The rest of the day Donnie and I took turns giving Stewart rides.

Later the cart got breaks and even a lawnmower engine. That's the taillight of the 1962 Ford Falcon that Pa gave Mama for finishing her degree.