Random Stories from My Youth – the ranch

This blog post will be a continuation of my last two blogs, containing snippets of our life in New Mexico, as I remember them.

The phone.  The first several years that we lived on the ranch our phone service was what was known as a party line.  That meant that the phone line was always open to anyone on the line, i.e. if you were talking, anyone on the party line could pick up their phone and listen to your conversation.  And you always had to pick up the phone to see if it was presently in use before dialing a call out.  Clearly we didn’t spend much time on the phone.  

After several years, we finally transitioned to a private line.  It was pretty much a given in our family that the phones were for communication needs and not socializing.  My parents felt that 10 or 15 minutes was plenty long to be on a call, and we weren’t to be on the phone after 8:00 pm unless it was an emergency.  If anyone called for me or my siblings after 8:00 then my Dad would answer and say that it was too late to be calling, and we could return the call the next day.  Even when I went to college, I understood that long distance calls were expensive, and instead I wrote a letter home each weekend, usually on Sunday, and mailed it on Monday.

Watering trees with a fire engine.  The house that we lived in was at the far side of a mesa and the road that went across the mesa to our house had multiple S-curves in it.  It was kind of graceful looking, and one might think that the curves were to keep cars slow as they approached our house, but actually the curves were in keeping with the terracing in the pastures on each side to hold water when it rained.  In any case, Mom and Dad decided to plant some trees along the winding road and purchased about a hundred Scotch pine and Russian olive trees that were simply twigs when they were first planted. 

Dad was also a member of the Bonito Volunteer Fire Department and he was often called to fight local fires.  The fire department had a small water tank truck, and periodically if we hadn’t had any rain, Dad would pick up the fire truck and use it to water the trees.  Dad would drive and Bob or Jeff would ride on top and use the water hose to water the little trees.  Riding on the fire engine was great fun!

Our family dogs.  Lucky was the first of our childhood family dogs and a much loved little sheltie dog.  Mom and Dad got him for Bob while we were living in Yuma, and he came to New Mexico when we did.  Lucky was followed by Sally, a sweet grey Weimaraner, and Tillie a blue heeler, then Misty (short for Mistake as she was Tillie’s pup) a blue heeler mix.  We also had a Dalmatian puppy named Gumdrops that unfortunately died after only a few weeks with a congenital lung problem.  And then in their later years, my parents had a sweet little labradoodle companion that they also named Tillie.  After my parents’ died in 2006, Tillie found a much loved home with my brother Dave’s family.

Most of our dogs died of old age, and a wonderful life they did have with daily free roaming and adventures across our ranch.  The exception was Lucky, our first dog.  One morning we sadly learned that Lucky had died.  We were told that some bad people had driven up to the house and shot our dog during the night.  I never knew the rest of the story until one of my brothers shared it with me as an adult.  It seems that we were scheduled to go on a family vacation but for some reason it was delayed or cancelled.  Dad heard the gunfire that night when Lucky was shot and grabbed a gun that he always kept near his bed.  He went out on the porch and could see a van that suddenly turned and started to speed away from the house.  He realized that they had just shot Lucky and had probably been planning to rob our home.  Dad unloaded his gun at the back of the van as it sped away leaving broken glass on our drive.

Celebrity visitors.  Sometimes celebrities would visit the horse races at nearby Ruidoso Downs, and once or twice someone would bring a celebrity up to our ranch.  One such person that came several times was Dale Robertson, an actor who was famous for his many western roles in film and television.  Another actor that I remember that once came to our home was Alfred, the butler in the television Batman series – his name was Alan Napier.  And once we even had a visit from the father of Queen Noor, the young American wife of the King of Jordan.  He had once been a Navy test pilot so he was likely an early friend of Dad’s.

 

The Scribner family recipe book.  Mom and Dad realized that after we had left home, we were often calling them to get a recipe for something.  In demand were favorites from our childhood like buttercream Easter eggs and jets, our apple pie, winter squash, and so much more.  They enlisted David to help with the computer formatting and compilation of a family recipe book and told us all to request which recipes would be included.  They also allowed us to add a few of our own recipes to the project.  I guess that you would call it an early form of self-publishing where you make copies of each page and then assemble spiral bound books. The result was the Scribner Family Recipes book with almost 250 recipes that each of us children received in 1998.

*  *  *  *  *

 

Key Individuals:

     Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)

     Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

               Jane Hughes Scribner Simonitsch McCrary (1953 – and more)

               and my four siblings:  Bob, Jeff, David and Mary Ann                                   

- Jane Scribner McCrary

Random Stories from My Youth – Christmas

Given that we are already in the Christmas season, with this blog post I decided to include a few of my memories of our holiday seasons.   And, forgive me, but while lacking photos of many of these random stories and memories, I am falling into using some of my watercolor art to illustrate.

Fetching our Christmas tree.  Once our family moved to New Mexico in 1963, each year we proceeded to find our Christmas tree on our ranch property instead of purchasing one.  We would make an event out of the process with bundling up for a snow outing and getting out the toboggan.  Dad would head out with us and we would search for just the right tree.  I suspect that Dad might very likely had located the tree at an earlier time.  Anyway, after we had decided on a tree, Dad cut the tree, we would load it onto the toboggan and all head back to the house. 

Swimming in the winter.  One special feature of our ranch house was that it was built on the side of the mesa.  The house was all on one floor, but downstairs there was an enclosed heated swimming pool.  Because the side of the mesa dropped down, two whole sides of the pool room were built with sliding glass doors that opened out to a lower patio with a stunning view off the side of the mesa.  We swam a lot and occasionally had a swimming party at home.  It was great fun in the wintertime when we would play out in the snow with the sled or toboggan until we were freezing cold and would then come home, go downstairs, put on our bathing suits and climb into the heated pool.

Warming up in the pool after time in the cold winter snow was a delight.  And often the last ones to come in would enjoy opening the sliding glass doors and throwing snowballs at those already in the pool.  It was great fun!

Snow Ice cream.  We made snow ice cream each year in the winter whenever we had deep snow.  Made with cream (or milk when we had no cream), vanilla and sugar, or alternatively with sweetened condensed milk, milk and vanilla.  Snow ice cream was a delicious winter treat that we all looked forward to every winter.

Santa on the CB radio.  Christmas in New Mexico makes me remember that when we were young it was kind of trendy to have a CB radio, and my Dad was a guy that loved his gadgets, so he had one.  I asked my siblings if they remembered what Dad’s CB handle (the name that you broadcast with) was, and they remembered that it was either Roadrunner or Road Toad.  At Christmas, the local CB radio club would have Dad get on his CB and broadcast while he was pretending to be Santa Claus flying around the world and heading to New Mexico to visit the children in our area.  Of course, he would say the names of some of our friends’ children and mutter that he certainly hoped that they were already asleep or he wouldn’t be able to drop off their gifts! 

Christmas books.  Even though we used the local public library when we were young, the Ruidoso library wasn’t very large or well stocked.  The school libraries were larger but were still limited.  So, we were always excited to know that we would get new books for Christmas.  Mom & Dad had an arrangement with our Stevens cousins (Mom’s side of the family) who were about our same ages and also avid readers, that we would send them books, and they would send us books at Christmas.  The best part though was that we (the children) could be the ones to select the books, AND we could read them all before they were wrapped and mailed off – and our Stevens cousins could do the same.  I even think that Mom and Aunt Teenie might have exchanged lists of book titles to help facilitate the selections.  Of course, we had to be very gentle and careful with the books but it was great, because we ended up double-dipping on books at Christmas.

Reading books.  While I don’t really have memories of my parents reading to me, I have plenty of memories of them both reading lots of books.  Not only did they set the example for us that reading was enjoyable, they also encouraged us to read each evening.  In our family, bedtimes were pretty firmly adhered to and we had to be in our bed by either 8:00 or 9:00 or 10:00 pm, depending on our ages.  One wonderful rule, however, was that we could extend that time by an hour if we were lying down in bed ready for sleep and reading – and we all took advantage of that provision.  

In fact, sometimes when our reading hour was up, we would try and extend the time, but Mom or Dad would monitor us pretty closely and check to make sure that our lights were out.  On occasion we would pull the covers over our heads in the dark and use the little light from the electric blanket control to continue reading!  Those Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books would always end a chapter with a suspenseful problem, and I wanted to get into the next chapter to see how things worked out.  Even then, we had to keep our ears sharp to listen for Mom’s footsteps or Dad’s boots coming down the hallway to check on us. 

Under the tree.  On Christmas Eve, we often put out cookies and milk for Santa with maybe a carrot for the reindeer, and of course, it was gone with only crumbs remaining in the morning.  Our tree was always in the living room and there were accordion doors that Dad would not only close, but would also tie closed with cord to keep kids (mostly Bob or Jeff) from peeking in the early morning. 

On Christmas morning we would all get up and put on our robes and slippers, get coffee or hot chocolate.  And then when all were ready, Dad would untie and open the doors for all to enter the living room where the tree was along with all the Christmas gifts.

Our gifts were always grouped by child and arranged under the tree with some off to the side in nearby chairs because we had such a large family.  Gifts from family were always wrapped with tags and grouped by child with a few gifts from Santa that were never wrapped.  We would each quickly find our spot under the tree!

After the thrill of seeing what Santa brought for us, Mom would pull out a notepad once we began opening the wrapped presents from family members and she would make a list of everything.  That list was then used for our thank you letters.  This courtesy was an absolute requirement in our family as we had to have those thank you notes written before New Year’s Day.  

*  *  *  *  *

Key Individuals:

     Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)

     Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

               Jane Hughes Scribner Simonitsch McCrary (1953 – and more)

               and my four siblings:  Bob, Jeff, David and Mary Ann                                

- Jane Scribner McCrary

Random Stories from My Youth

After writing so many stories and summaries for this blog, it has occurred to me that I also have a number of brief stories, or more precisely memories, from my youth.  These either didn’t make it into a blog related to a topic or I simply didn’t have anywhere that they seemed to fit.  Mostly, it might seem like I am just rambling and that’s probably exactly the case.  Anyway, once I started putting them down on paper I discovered that collectively they are too long for just one blog post.  So I have decided to break these Stories from My Youth up into two or three blog posts.  This is the first such blog.

 

Shelling and camping out on beaches in Florida.  Early in their marriage, Mom & Dad shared a love for seashells and hunting shells on the beach.  I remember when I was 4 or 5 years old and we were living in Florida that we spent many days beachcombing and shell hunting.  I also remember our family camping out on the beach in Florida during that time.  Mom & Dad ended up with an impressive shell collection which they catalogued and labeled using some of their many books on shells. 

Music.  Music wasn’t a big thing in our house growing up, however Mom & Dad did have a red & white turntable when we were young and some records.  In Yuma, I remember that they often listened to Sons of the Pioneers and their songs, Tumbling Tumbleweeds and Cool Water.  Mom also bought a Chubby Checker album and we all learned the Twist dancing in the living room.  It was good fun! 

We each got our own transistor radio when we were teenagers.  That brought with it the challenge of finding a decent radio station to listen to.  Alto, NM is not located near any major city and being in the mountains made reception difficult.  Our local station didn't feature music favored by growing teens.  The best rock station that we could sometimes get (if the weather was just right) was out of Oklahoma City.  

Eating out.  My parents were firm disciplinarians and one cardinal rule was that when we were in public, we were expected to behave – period.  And we did.  Eating out was a big deal in our family.  Going out to a restaurant was an expensive activity for a family of seven.  We probably only had a meal in a restaurant about once a month when I was very young, and that was often dinner at a pancake house or BBQ place, not an overly expensive outing.  And when we all filed into a place to eat, there were often looks like “Oh no, kids!”  But time and again, people would come by and tell my parents how well behaved we all were and how nice it was to see us. 

Speaking about BBQ… summers were long for me living on the ranch with no friends or nearby neighbors for distractions.  The boys would often spend time with Dad on projects and work over at the barn or stables, and there was also a family with boys that lived at the other end of the mesa.  I spent much of my time with Mom though, and I expect that is why we were close, even as adults.  I guess that Dad realized that, and he began asking me to join him for a trip into town to have a BBQ sandwich lunch, just the two of us, about once a month.  It was special for me and I loved it. 

Making apple pies.  As we got older, we started to have Sunday afternoon lunch out after church, often BBQ or burgers with my Granny & Granddaddy, and then later simple sandwiches and apple pie (or Honey Buns if we didn’t have a pie) for dinner.  It gave Mom a Sunday break from cooking.  But it was also all about the pies.  Our grandparents had an apple orchard, and in the fall we would have boxes of apples, as many as we could use.  Mom would make apple preserves and put cooked apples in the freezer for the rest of the year.  But it was the apple pies that were the star and we all wanted lots of apple pies! 

One year Mom put down her foot and told us that if we wanted so many apple pies, then we would have to make them ourselves.  You bet we did!  We all agreed to work on that project.  The boys set to work peeling and slicing the apples; it helped to have one of those gadgets that bolted to the table and then had a handle that turned and cored, peeled and sliced all in one motion.  I worked on making pie crusts, yes, from scratch.  And the younger kids worked on assembling the ingredients to put the pie together. 

We would completely assemble the pies, wrap them in foil, and then freeze them uncooked.  When the pie came out of the freezer, we only had to thaw and cook it, and it was like we had just made it that morning.  That first year we made and froze about 2 dozen pies – it was heaven because we could have an apple pie every other weekend!  We made pies each fall for several years.  Thank goodness that we had a couple of large freezers.

Dinner was at 6:00 sharp.  We always all ate dinner family style at home at 6:00 pm each evening.  My mother was a good cook, you almost had to be with five children in a day when there wasn’t such a proliferation of fast food places.  Actually though, Mom didn’t really like to cook.  So it really isn’t a surprise that as an older daughter, I became her partner in the kitchen in my younger years.  Mom & I usually worked on preparing the meal together, though she much preferred cleaning up if I would do more of the cooking once I reached high school age.  I understand that today, as I think that she simply got tired of cooking every day after so many years.  The job of making family meals is much less overwhelming if most of the pots & pans and preparation paraphernalia are cleaned up before everyone sits down to eat.  Then the job of “doing the dishes” after a meal is mostly just a quick task of putting extra food away and getting plates and utensils and such in the dishwasher.

In our younger days, everyone had a mug of milk with all our meals.  We went through a lot of milk!  Later after Dad had a heart attack and cholesterol became an issue, we started drinking more iced tea.  

The family rule when we got older was that dinner was served at 6:00 pm.  If you were late getting to the table then the penalty was that you had to do the dishes – so everyone would try their best not to be even a minute late!  Those meals were never quick either as we all would usually sit and have long conversations about our days or any other topics that were current.  And then most of the time, everyone would help with the dishes.

*  *  *  *  *

 

Key Individuals:

     Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)

     Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

               Jane Hughes Scribner Simonitsch McCrary (1953 – and more) 

               and my four siblings:  Bob, Jeff, David and Mary Ann

Notes:

I have more brief memories and notes, so I will simply continue this blog with my next post to keep it from getting too long and tedious. 

- Jane Scribner McCrary

Raging Fire Threatens Our Home

In the summer of 1967, there was forest fire that started in the Gavilan Canyon outside of Ruidoso and headed straight for our home in Alto, New Mexico.  I’m not sure how it got started, but my brothers and I first became aware of it when we saw all of the smoke and then flames while we were on the bus heading home from school one day in early May. 

We realized that the fire was traveling pretty much in the same direction that we were, and we could even see the flames cresting the hills over to the right of the highway that we were traveling on.  As usual, we rode the bus to the end of the line which was Mr. Creel’s property, our bus driver’s home, and located just down the mesa from our family’s ranch. 

 

Dad or Mom would usually pick us up at Mr Creel’s house.  But that day, no one was there to pick us up and smoke filled the air, so we just started walking and running down the mesa towards home.  Very quickly either Mom or Dad met us and picked us up, but we got home only to run into the house and quickly help load a few things into our family station wagon.  I remember that we were told to throw a few things to wear in a big suitcase in the living room, and among other things, Mom & Dad loaded some paintings and the old Hale family bible in the back of the car.

We then piled into the car and Mom drove us into the middle of an open field where we parked and were in less danger from the fire that was heading straight for our home.  Mom, me and my three younger siblings sat out there in the field for hours and watched the fire bursting through the tree tops while my Dad and older brother were on the roof with sprinklers and water hoses to try and save our home. 

A bulldozer was tearing a fire break in the woods just below the house, and we watched as forest service planes also dropped their pink slurry to try and turn the fire away from the house.  Eventually they were successful, and the fire stopped at the fire break that was created just below the house.  That fire break, and the slurry, turned the fire away but it still burned a lot of our forested acreage before the fire was finally put out the next day.  

Later that night while the fire fighters continued trying to control the fire, Mom took us to a hotel to get some sleep.  It was several days before it was safe to return home because all of the hot spots also needed to be put out.

The tree grinder.  The summer after the fire, Mom & Dad hired a crew that arrived with a large bull dozer and a tree mulcher machine.  It was pretty exciting and we all watched as the crew and equipment drove back onto our burned acreage and pushed down any remaining trees that had died from the fire.  Then all of the burnt tree trunks, logs and dead brush were cut and fed into a huge mulching machine, ground up and then spit out the back in small pieces.  It took several days to complete the work on the burned portion of the ranch. 

As part of the tree cutting, grinding and mulching work, the burned ranch acreage was spread with seed for permanent grass to prevent erosion and begin the process of restoration. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Key Individuals:

     Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)

     Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

                                   

Notes: 

1967 was a time when girls were required to wear dresses to school.  However, I hadn’t thrown any dresses into the bag that we had quickly packed the afternoon of the fire.  So I had to get special permission to wear pants to school for a couple of days until we left the hotel and could return home.

- Jane Scribner McCrary

Picking Wildflowers with Granny

In my last blog post, I shared the story of my mother, Ann Hart Hughes Scribner, including some of my memories and a commentary from my father.  The blog post ended with the statement that Mom struggled with dementia or Alzheimer’s for more than a decade at the end of her life.

My father wrote his memories of Mom during their younger years, and I wrote of my memories of our years as a young family.  But during the final chapter of her life, Mom’s grandchildren had a very different type of memory of her, and I want to share that with you as well.   

My daughter, Abby, was the youngest of my parents’ grandchildren.  Both Mom & Dad died in 2006 when Abby was a young teenager.  At some point, while Abby was in high school, she wrote about her grandmother who she knew as her Granny.  With Abby’s permission, I am going to share some of what she wrote in 2008: 

“I was browsing through my bookshelf the other day, sorting through books and trying to make room for new ones.  Not surprisingly, I ended up sitting down and flipping through old books and enjoying the memories of some of my favorite stories.  And then a picture fell out of one of the books.  You know how fun it can be to use a special picture for a bookmark.  And the picture that fell into my lap was, of course, a special photo.  It was a snapshot that someone, probably my dad, took when I was just a toddler, not even two years old.  I was standing in the woods near my grandparent’s house and my grandmother, Granny, was picking wildflowers with me.  We both had wildflowers in our hands and were very intent on our mission.

Granny was a small woman with a large heart.  She was a mother of five and grandmother of eight.  She was a southern lady with soft spoken ways and warm words.  She and my grandfather had a very interesting and happy life together.  They lived a full life, took care of their children, and when the time came, they took care of each other. 

We didn’t get to see my grandparents every day because they lived in a nearby state, but as the years went by we visited more often and made longer visits in the summer.  I am the youngest grandchild, so I don’t remember Granny in her younger years quite the same as my older cousins do, but I knew her the last 15 years of her life – all of those years with Alzheimer’s moving into her life like a slow tide rising steadily.

When I was young I never knew about Alzheimer’s, I just knew that Granny was getting “older” and more feeble physically – unsteady on her feet, slower to talk, forgetful.  Granddaddy started to help her more with things.  Yes, she was getting older, but she still wanted to know about school, visit with me and even listen to me play my violin for her.

I don’t really remember when my parents first told me about Alzheimer’s, but I do remember thinking that it explained a lot about what was happening to Granny.  Knowing allowed me to understand and gave me patience to interact with her without expecting her to respond directly to me.

Granny lived with Alzheimer’s for many years and in the end she could not talk at all, she could not feed herself and could not walk or even sit up on her own.  Questions needed to be yes or no questions and sometimes we would get a head nod in response, other times not.  Granddaddy became her full time caretaker and their life moved into a daily routine.  He got her up each morning and fed her breakfast and by mid-morning a home nurse would arrive and bathe her and get her dressed.  The nurse would bring her to the living room before leaving where Granny had “ownership” of the best end of the sofa.  Granny would be in the middle of the house, listen to the TV (she preferred nature shows) and she could be a part of whatever went on in the house during the day.  We would lay her back on the sofa for naps and then sit her up for lunch and everyone always ate lunch with her in the living room.  Another long nap in the afternoon, dinner, more TV and then off to bed.  And the next day and the next were often more of the same unless there was something special planned.

My grandmother died in 2006 within hours after she was told that Granddaddy had died from heart failure.  She couldn’t talk, but she knew – it was in her eyes.  They’d been together for over 50 years and so they left together.  Maybe they are picking wildflowers together now.”

 – Abigail Jane McCrary, 2008 

*  *  *  *  *

Key individuals:                                                                                                                   

        Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

        Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)          

– Jane Scribner McCrary

My Loving Mom

My Mom was a soft-spoken southern woman.  Ann Hart Hughes was born in 1921 in South Norfolk, Virginia.  She lived in Virginia until she married my father.

The older of two daughters of Charles Henry Hughes & Nina Cecelia Nash Hughes, Ann had an idyllic, though not wealthy, childhood with her parents in a small home on Decatur Street.  She had one younger sister named Nina Nash Hughes, Aunt Teenie to me, shown in the photo below.

 

Ann was always a good student who loved writing and English grammar.  After high school she went to Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Unfortunately, she broke her foot sometime in her freshman year, had to drop out because of it, and never returned to college.  After Ann’s foot healed enough that she could get back to normal life, she found a job and went to work.

Ann lived at home with her parents and worked for the next eight or so years.  She once told me that if she had lived during my generation, she would have loved to have her own apartment, but that just wasn’t done in her time.  So Ann remained at home and saved her money.  She was 29 by the time she married Dad, and was grateful that her parents always made her feel welcome and loved during those years.

In my father’s memoir, Dad wrote about meeting Mom:

“I was the Aviation Supply Officer for my squadron and with that job I had to get the spare parts to keep all the planes flying.  Our source of supply was the Naval Air Station in Norfolk, Virginia; this is where I met Ann Hart Hughes.  She worked in Aviation Supply, and I made a habit of arriving there just about the time she was due for a break so we could have a little time together.  My commanding officer, Col. John L. Smith, found out about all the trips I was making to Norfolk and questioned me about it.  I told him about Ann and a few weeks later he invited me to go along with him and his wife, who knew Ann, to Norfolk – and that really kicked off the love affair.  I knew I had found my soul mate, so in 1948, before being transferred to China, I asked Ann to marry me.  I had leave before shipping to China so I spent some time in Norfolk with Ann and she came with me up to Huntington, Long Island for a few days. “

Ann Hart Hughes and Robert Gordon Scribner married in August of 1949 in Norfolk, Virginia.  They drove to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon, and then back to Edenton, North Carolina to begin their life together.  In Edenton, they purchased a Cape Cod saltbox home in a new subdivision for $6,600.

 

My Dad’s military career had us moving every couple of years.  They went from Edenton, NC to Cherry Point, NC to Pensacola, FL back to Cherry Point to South Laguna, CA to Quantico, VA back to Pensacola, to Albuquerque, NM, and last to Yuma, AZ.  And during that time they welcomed five children into the family – three boys and two girls.  We always knew that we were an unusual tribe with all seven members of our family born in a different state.  My parents’ final move was when Dad retired from military service and our family settled in Alto, NM in 1963.

For the next 43 years my parents lived in Alto, first on the ranch which was the topic of the blog post Aviator to Rancher that I posted a few weeks ago.  During their later years, my parents sold most of the ranch property, retaining 10 acres on which they built their retirement home.  My parents were true partners in life, always making joint decisions and caring for each other along the way.

 

I started this blog with the statement that “My Mom was a soft-spoken southern woman” – and she was.  With five children you would think that things would get out of control at times, but my Mom never yelled at us or seemed to get angry.  She would simply give us a “look”, make a calm statement about what needed to change, or send us to our room – and that took care of it.  Mom had a gentle southern accent which I was never aware of until someone would mention it.  To me, she just sounded like my Mom.

A few of my fondest memories of my mother were from trips we took together.  One such trip was when I was about 25 years old and suddenly cast adrift after the sudden death of my first husband.  Both of my parents understood that I needed time to reset and make a new course.  My mom suggested a trip with her to Virginia and North Carolina to visit some of her extended family.  She hadn’t been back east in quite some time and decided that it would be nice for me to get to know more of her side of the family.  It was a wonderful distraction from my sadness, a really good time with my Mom, and the beginning of my lifelong interest in discovering our unique family histories.

*  *  *  *  *

Key individuals:

        Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)

        Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)          

Notes:

Ann struggled with dementia or Alzheimer’s for more than the last decade of her life but remained at home during all those years under Bob’s loving care.

 – Jane Scribner McCrary

Aviator to Rancher

The military career of Robert Gordon Scribner, my father, was the subject one of my early blogs [Awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, posted in May of 2020].  He retired from the U.S. Marine Corps in 1963 after a successful career in aviation with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and while he was still in his early 40’s.  He could see that his flying days were coming to an end.  He always said that he retired because he did not really want a desk job.

While stationed at his last assignment in Yuma, Arizona, my parents invested in a ranch in Deming, New Mexico, the Palomas Ranch, and horses started to become a part of our life.  According to Dad, when he was young his parents wanted him to become an engineer like his father.  He was more interested in becoming a veterinarian; however neither of those career choices came to fruition.  Dad went to Virginia Polytechnic Institute in June 1942 to begin studying engineering, and before year end he left to join the Navy V-5 program for pilot training to become an aviator.

Both of my parents were great readers, and had an active mind for continuing education as a lifelong interest.  Dad was a huge proponent of adult education and took numerous classes while in the military on animal husbandry, and the kind of skills that a rancher would need like welding, machinery repair and construction.  Soil & water conservation was also of great interest to Dad.

With over 20 years in military service, my parents made the decision for Dad to retire in 1963.  Before he retired, Mom & Dad looked for property suitable for a small ranch with horses and cattle.  One location that they liked was the area around Ruidoso, New Mexico which we had visited a couple of times on vacations when he was stationed in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  It was cooler than Arizona and a couple of us children with asthma did well in the mountain air – we were five children by the time Dad retired.  No more military life for this family or moving every two years.

 

High Mesa Ranch in Alto, New Mexico became our new family home along with the business of raising and breeding horses, primarily quarter horses, and black Brangus cattle that roamed the pastures and wooded areas. 

Growing up on a rural property has its advantages and disadvantages.  As a child there was a lack of nearby friends and playmates.  We were at the end of the line for the school bus which meant that we started early and got home late.  And we all rode that darned school bus until graduation day!  While some of our friends had cars in high school, we were never conveniently located to catch a ride with anyone.  Our parents allowed us to drive the family car into town to run errands or attend school functions, but not on a daily basis to attend school.

I remember so many special times like taking the toboggan out in the snow during the holidays to find a perfect Christmas tree to bring back to our home, dragging us on the toboggan behind a horse for fun, learning to drive on rural roads and taking the car into the pasture so we could drive fast in tight circles, called “donuts” and feel how to handle a car that is out of control, staying up late at night to watch the birth of a new foal, seeing deer and turkey out the windows of our home, and wandering around the woods beneath the house and down to Eagle Creek, a lovely clear mountain stream that bordered our property on one side. 

 

High Mesa Ranch was mostly pasture land on the mesa top and the wooded acreage down three sides of the mesa.  The ranch was 2 sections of land, a total of 1,280 acres.  The pastures were planted in winter wheat for grazing.  The front section on top of the mesa had an old farmhouse, barn and orchard on the property when our family purchased it, and for many years it was used as a home for a ranch foreman and their family.  The back section of our land was called the School Section and it was mostly wooded until a forest fire in 1967 took out many of the trees, and almost reached our home.

My parents built a new home for our family on one side of the mesa top, and a horse stables and small track on the other side.  I remember that they used rocks gathered on the ranch for the retaining walls around the house and Mom chose lovely round ones with green moss on them for the three fireplaces; we had three wood-burning fireplaces in our home.  The house was built with oversized pinkish adobe bricks made in Mexico that required a long drive to the border to pick them up as they couldn’t be delivered.

The ranch operation was predominately the raising of Brangus cattle for sale, and breeding and raising horses.  There were two stud horses on the ranch with more than a dozen brood mares at one time. 

 

The horse stables that were built had 20 stalls, each stall with its own 14’ x 80’ run, and three hay or straw lofts in the middle section along with an office, tack and grain room, and a foaling stall.  There was a small bunkhouse with a window looking into the foaling stall.  They also built a 3/8 mile training track in front of the stables with a four-horse starting gate – and a tongue-in-cheek sign that read High Mesa Downs.

One interesting aspect about the horse stables is that my parents built it with a significant water conservation feature.  The stables building was 375 feet long.  Rain water was collected from the metal roof with rain gutters and directed into an 18,000 gallon cistern.  The rain water was then pumped out of the cistern and available to supply all of the water for the horses, the horse showers, bunk room and other needs.

Additional ranch income came from boarding and exercising race horses that were coming to the Ruidoso Downs Race Track prior to the start of race season or for resting and rehabilitation when needed.  The horses were prepared for the upcoming race season with regular workouts so that they could get acclimated to the higher altitude.  There was also a lot of the initial breaking and training of 2-year-old race horses from first saddle to gate training.

Mom & Dad even had a few horses that raced at the track in Ruidoso Downs, but in the end it wasn’t a profitable endeavor.  Our jockey colors were scarlet and yellow.  I remember thinking that a day at the track was pretty boring.  The race would certainly be exciting, but it would only last a couple of minutes, and then there would be a very long 30-45 minute wait for the next race.  Everyone was busy during that time getting drinks or food and placing bets, but I would just bring a book and read to pass the time. 

After the children were grown, my parents often traveled. They went on trips with a group called the New Mexico Amigos who were business men and women that promoted New Mexico to businesses.  They developed a keen interest in art and were supporters of local artists and southwestern art.  Needlepoint conventions were also on their list of fun things to do – Dad was a great needlepointer and won several ribbons at these events.  When I was about college age I came home with a needlepoint project and brought one for Mom to do as she always enjoyed craft projects as well.  And then before I knew it, Dad was needlepointing!  He found needlepoint to be a great pastime while watching football games or TV.  For a couple of years, it was a family secret and he would put it away if anyone came over.  In the end, he took great pride in his needlepoint projects which were finely executed and often became special gifts for family.

My folks also traveled worldwide with trips to Spain and Egypt.  And they enjoyed many extended vacations in Mexico until Mom’s health began to decline.  New Mexico was home to my parents for much of their long life together. Dad died on January 26, 2006 from heart failure, and Mom died only 2 days later on January 28, 2006 after years of dementia or Alzheimer’s and loving home care from Dad.  Bob & Ann were partners in life and they left this world together as well. 

 

Mom & Dad had 5 children, 8 grandchildren, and now a growing number of great grandchildren to carry on their legacy. 

 

 

Note:  Grandchild, Shane Scribner, not in this photo.

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Notes:

While this blog is mostly about my Dad; my Mom and I were very close, and I plan to make her the subject of my next blog post.

Key Individuals:

     Robert Gordon Scribner  (1923 – 2006)

     Ann Hart Hughes Scribner  (1921 – 2006)                         

- Jane Scribner McCrary