The other day, after digging through some old papers, I came across some assignments from a poetry class that I took in college. Today, I found a poem in which I had to take a conversation and turn it into a poem. This assignment did bring tears to my eyes because I used my mom as my subject. Until today, I had forgotten about that conversation about her life on the ranch with her family.Continue reading “Life Was Simple”
“Whoa. You son-of-a-bitch,” the large man whispered to his horse. “Whoa.”
Over the years, I have heard many stories about my grandfather, Tom Allen, and how he was one of the best horse traders around. My mom would often tell how she would watch grandpa break his horses. She would always laugh, “He would swear like a sailor, but he would speak to them in a soft voice, just as if he were speaking to a baby.”Continue reading “The Last of the Great Horse Traders”
One of my favorite characters in my family tree was my great grandmother, Tamer Anna Payton Allen. She was born in the year of 1860 in Monroe County, Ohio. Her father was Francis Payton (1833-1891), and her mother was Sarah Alvira Hogue (1835-1902). Continue reading “One Sassy Lass!”
While researching information about blogs, I came across an old genealogy blog challenge for 2015 by Amy Johnson Crow. Her blog challenges caught my attention, and I thought it would be fun to give it a try even though I am about 16 months late!
When I think of someone who made it when everything was stacked against her, I automatically think of my grandmother, Elva Marie Allen. Although her life was not an easy one, she never complained, and she always had a smile on her sweet face. Continue reading “Against the Odds”
Even today, I envy my mom’s childhood, for her stories about life in Hotchkiss, Colorado sounded like something straight out of a western movie. During the 1940’s, my grandparents, my mama, Aunt Jan, and my Aunt Barbara lived in a log cabin on their ranch out on Allen’s Mesa; the locals called it that since so many of the Allen family lived in the area. Mama would tell us how in the evenings the family would sit in the living room and listen to the radio, and I can still hear her laugh as she explained it was like watching TV without the picture. The girls were expected to be quiet as the family would listen to their favorite stories. Continue reading “Dale Evans and Roy Rogers”
My grandfather died when I was fourteen years old. My family was living in Alameda, California at the time, a long way from Colorado, the place my grandpa called home. As always, I miss my ornery cowboy grandpa. Continue reading “My Cowboy Grandpa: Tom Allen”