I come from a long line..

My first Sunday night at the ranch this summer.. ahh how I love thee. We had a paleo tour today with a great family who was interested in the history.. the history..it is what builds me, my kids and links me to generations I never was able to meet. The history..the stories connect me to my grandpa and my Dad. Their stories echo through my soul keeping them alive..keeping me alive.. the ranch grounds me..it feeds me..as I was re telling some of the good stories today it hit me that I should write them down. Novel idea with a handy blog at my finger tips? 🙄 the biggest question is..”is it history? Is it stories? Or is it just interpretation of both?” I think a combination of all.. my Dad had almost 6 months to live when I came home to the ranch. There were nights that turned to daylight as Dad told me stories after stories. Maybe it was his way of reciting his memoirs. I recorded each one in my memory. I always say that his stories were life stamped into me..I remember everything about them. His chuckle on the funny ones, the deep lines that that formed around his eyes on the hard ones and the look over his glasses when it was something to especially pay attention to. Those memories along with the previous 20 years with Grandad and Dad made me whom I am today..and thankful for it.  The first story is how it all began.. a teacher and a cowboy..the ultimate love story.. Great Granpdad rode round up for a big cattle company in the late 1800’s.. My Great Grandma was a single teacher that moved out west to teach.. she signed up for a homestead..there was no fence in those days.. everything was open. Great Grandad was pushing cattle through the country and met my Great Grandma. They eventually married and started to build the ranch together. Great Grandma kept teaching.. as three children were born into the family she would take the kids with her and they would live at the school house together. Great Grandad stayed on at the ranch and worked on their dream. One day mid February of 1926 she was chopping wood for her school. She accidentally cut her leg with the ax..she went to the Doctor to get it taken care of..gangrene set in..they had to take part of her leg off..the infection kept spreading until February 28, 1926 she passed away at 38 years old..leaving my Great Grandad with three little kids, their ranch and a heart ache he would never get over. My Grandad, the oldest, was 16.

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