1951 Hanging Out with Earl

My grandfather Earl and I would sit and watch Westerns on TV at night, me sitting in my little rocking chair that had a dark green leather seat.  We would sit and eat ice cream from the carton, which drove my grandmother Mary crazy.  "Earl, for heaven’s sake, get the child a bowl!" she would say.  

One of my favorite horses, Trigger

I would go with Earl to feed the cows in the pastures by our tank stocked with catfish.  

He was very very tight with a penny.  I remember Mary would have to give him every cent of change whenever she did errands.  We would get cards from them for birthdays and Christmas with a $5 bill inside, with the notation always, “Enclosed from Grandma King”.  I’m sure he never knew. 

He was an old codger, a curmudgeon, but I worshipped him my Grandpa King.  He was tall and thin, and he always wore overalls, usually the striped ones.  When he had to wear a suit you could tell how much he hated it.  His hands were knobby and always covered in dirt and grease.  He would sill in his recliner and smoke away.  

That farmhouse in Vernon (actually on FM 1763 on the way to Oklaunion) was something I always kept in the back of my mind during our worldly travels.  I knew it was the one place where I would always return, and that it would always be mine.  It was our land forever.  Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case.   

1951 Pony, Junibug, and Little Hairs

The summers in Texas were magical for me, on the farm, with my dad's old horse Pony, and the two German Shorthaired Pointers, Junibug and Little Hairs.  

Pony was so old she had barely any teeth and I wasn't allowed to ride her, so she was like a very large dog.  She followed me everywhere, always nosing at my pockets.  She was lame but she was game.  I would take her into the barn and get corn for her and it would fall out of her mouth.

Junibug and Little Hairs were great.  I was particularly smitten with Junibug.  She had big patches of brown, she wasn't ticked like Little Hairs.  She also had a long tail.  I wonder now if she was more English Pointer than GS Pointer.  Little Hairs had the docked tail.  Junibug was more mellow.  She was always within touching distance.  Little Hairs was more inquisitive, always running ahead, scouting out the trail.

Every morning, I would set out with Pony and the dogs, with my double holsters and my silver guns, and my red cowboy boots, and a lunch packed by my grandmother.  There was a small canyon behind the house with a bunch of vines and cacti, etc.  We would go hang out down there.  I can't believe I was never bitten by a snake, actually.  Of course the dogs would have warned me.   I did have multiple encounters with cactuses though.

Pony died in 1956 at the age of 30 when we were in France.  My dad and I both cried when we found out.