Lacy Dog

Lacy was our dog and she was killed on New Years Eve. She was genuinely a part of our family, unlike any other dog ever was, or probably will be again. She went on trips to Las Vegas with us when we went to visit Heather's family. She went to Utah when we visited Brett's family. Although she would have preferred they leave her alone, all the children loved Lacy and she would put up with their "playing" with her. Sometimes she would hide from them, but she never was anything but gentle with them. This is her story.

Lacy came to live with us quite by accident. She wasn’t our dog, but was Hilary’s. Hilary, Paul and Nathan were going to Germany and Lacy was going to be going, too. Paul was already there and had secured what the military calls “Command Sponsorship” for his family, which, in layman’s terms means that the military is authorizing the soldier’s family to accompany him to an overseas assignment. The ideal way to obtain this travel is what is called “Concurrent Travel.” Concurrent travel accompanied by command sponsorship means that the family can fly together to the overseas assignment. Paul was unable to get concurrent travel, but did get command sponsorship, which meant he had to fly over first, and Hilary and Nathan would follow later.

Hilary, Nathan and Lacy came home to stay with us a few weeks before traveling on to Germany. Her route would take her from Killeen to Atlanta, then on to Germany. When the time to go came for her to go, Hilary was overwhelmed. She had all her carry-on bags, a 19 month old who would be very tired, a dog, and was very pregnant. Hilary also found out that once she got to Germany that Lacy would have to go into quarantine for several months, and it would be her responsibility to care for the dog while in quarantine. To a young wife and mother, the dream of joining her hubby was turning into a nightmare. The closer she got to departure time, the more she realized that she would need to pare down her travel nightmare.

In everything she was about to take to Germany, what could she leave behind and not cause a hardship either in the travel, or in Germany. The answer was easy …. Lacy. So with a promise that she would cover Lacy’s expenses until she returned, Lacy became a member of the Pritchard Household. It didn’t take long for Lacy to become part of the family; and it became evident early on that Lacy would never go back to Hilary.

Lacy endeared herself to us right away. She would sing when we encouraged her. Her place most nights was in bed with us where she would burrow under the covers and sleep. And she quickly became Scottie’s dog, and began sleeping in his bed. Over the years she lived with us, she would become many things to many people; a loved pet, a playmate, an entertainer, and a protector. I think she would be loved by more people for many reasons than any dog I have ever had.

She came to live with us when she was less than a year old, not much more than a puppy. She was very well behaved and loved anyone who paid her any attention. When swimming time came around she was right in there with everyone. She learned to dive into the pool when someone tossed her ball into the water. The ball would hit the water and Lacy would make a running dive into the pool. Her front legs would be forward and her rear legs straight behind her and she hit the water on her belly. She quickly got her bearings and went after the ball. She learned she couldn’t just climb out anywhere, so she would nose her self around the edge of the pool until she reached the stairs and climbed out. She then would bring you the ball and do it all over again. Lacy was a quick learner, and when we taught her to go directly from where she retrieved the ball to the stairs, she made a beeline to the stairs.

The favorite place for the toddlers to gather in the pool was at the stairs, and when we had the kids over swimming, they all were in the water on the stairs. Then came Lacy. She would weave her way around the kids and out of the pool. A couple of summers later, we taught her how to come out of the pool using the ladder. Once she learned that, then she would get the ball and head for either the stairs or the ladder, depending on which was closest. We had to pay attention to her, however, when she used the ladder because if the got herself in the wrong position, she could drown. Once she almost did, but one of us saw her struggling and helped her out. It only happened a few times, but it never dissuaded her from swimming.

When we would leave for a while we put her and the other dog or dogs, out in the backyard. We would come home and the sidewalk around the steps of the pool would be wet, and so would Lacy. When she got hot, she just got into the pool to cool off.

In the fall after she arrived I decided to hold a garage sale. I had quite a bit of stuff to sell, so I put it on the driveway rather than in the garage. I sat at a table in the shade with Lacy and we waited for our customers to arrive. When people arrived to the sale, they would park on the street and walk up the driveway. Lacy would walk down the driveway and meet the people and walk back up to the sale, at their side. She never barked. Once she was back in the sale area, she would either sit down next to me, or she would just walk around, like she was keeping an eye on things. One lady was really impressed with Lacy and asked me how old she was. When I told her she was about 18 months old, she looked surprised. She said that she had raised a lot of Dachshunds and never in all the years that she had them had she ever seen one as well behaved as Lacy.

Over the years we held several pool parties in our yard and pool. Usually the big ones were on the 4th of July and we had several families over. In every case, the kids fell in love with Lacy and were amazed at her ability to dive. Sometimes she would try to catch a stream of water from the hose, and would nearly drown. We would have to keep a close eye on Lacy during these parties because the kids would play too rough with her, or not give her a break. I actually caught one kid holding her under the water. When the kid’s dad found out, he put the kid in time out. That solved the problem temporarily, but I ended up solving it for good by not inviting that family back.

One summer Todd, Sunde and Brynn came to visit. Brynn immediately fell in love with Lacy, as did all the grandkids. Brynn and Todd spent a lot of time in the pool, which meant Lacy also spent a lot of time in the pool. And when she is swimming, she is unavoidably drinking water. After a few swims, she usually ran to the grass and relieved herself. But water keeps on working in the system. After the swim, Todd decided to lie on the couch and take a nap. He put Lacy on his chest and both went to sleep. A few minutes later, he woke up yelling. While she was asleep, Lacy peed on him!

Lacy slept with Scott every night. One night he noticed that Lacy was peeing in his bed. Of course, it made him mad, and he would rub her nose in it, and put her outside. But she didn’t stop. Then we noticed she wouldn’t swim very much. She would go in the pool after the ball, swim to the stairs, get out and go lay down. She wouldn’t bring the ball back to have it thrown back into the water. When the other dogs wanted to wrestle, her favorite sport, she would just walk away and lay down. I thought I had better take her to the vet.

The vet x-rayed her and found that she had a stone as big as the end of my thumb in her bladder. This was making her tired and causing her to pee. The vet didn’t know what caused it, but for the first and only time I ever owned a pet, I authorized the vet to operate and remove the stone. She had a quick recovery and soon was back to her old self. I didn’t like the amount of the bill for the surgery, but because of the role she would later play, I don’t regret having the surgery done. She was with us for several more years after that.

In 1998 my mother moved in with us and Lacy became her constant companion. Mom would sit in her sitting room in her recliner watching television, and Lacy would sit on her lap, hour after hour; day in and day out. Lacy became wonderful therapy for Mom. After a while, though, we noticed that Lacy was getting a little plump. Then we found out that when Mom would eat her meals she would give Lacy a little, too. More than once we would catch her at the dinner table giving Lacy a little something. We would tell her she shouldn’t feed her food from the table, but she kept doing it, and Lacy kept getting fat!

A few months after Mom moved in, she suffered a spontaneous fracture in her back caused by Osteoporosis. She would spend most of the next year in bed recovering. And Lacy would spend her days in bed, cuddled up by Mom. After a while, Mom could begin to get around using a walker. The doctor wanted her to take some walks as she could. So everyday the weather was nice, she would make her way down the driveway to the street with her walker, and then up to the corner and back again. This trip would take her a half hour or so. And Lacy was with her every step of the way. Mom would walk and Lacy was at her side. When Mom stopped to rest for a few minutes, Lacy would stop and sit down by her. Then after a minute or two of sitting, Lacy would get up and walk all the way around Mom, like she was making sure she was okay, and then she would sit down again and wait for Mom to start out again. When Mom resumed her walk, Lacy stayed right with her. Lacy never had a leash and never wandered off. I think after Mom died that Lacy seemed lost for a while.

Then Scott left on his Mission, and Lacy was really lost. She had the Schnauzers, but first Mom was gone, and now Scott. I don’t know what, or if dog’s think, but I do believe she missed both of them.

Hilary moved back to Killeen sometime after Mom died, and either shortly before or shortly after Scott left on his Mission. When they move back, they rented a house with a back yard. Hilary said Nathan wanted to have Lacy Dog back, so Lacy went “home” to Hilary. We told her that Lacy wasn’t used to being alone, and that she might have a hard time. Whenever Lacy was left alone other than at our house, she was mischievous. Once we left her at Heidi’s when we were visiting in Bryan, and Lacy tore up the blinds. Hilary was running into the same problem. One day when she came over I asked her where Lacy was. She said that Lacy was in her back yard on a chain. I told her that Lacy had never been on a chain in her life, and to bring her back home! She could come visit Lacy whenever she wanted; Lacy was no longer her dog.

When Scott arrived home from his Mission, he was reunited with Lacy. However, a dog wasn’t the first thing on his mind. And Val became more important than Lacy. After Scott and Val were married, they bought a house a short time later. He wanted Lacy to come live with them. We told them that Lacy needed another dog because she wasn’t used to being alone. So they went out and got Cali. Then on New Years Eve 2006, Lacy got out of the yard and didn’t come home. The next morning we found her where she had been run over and killed. We brought her home and buried her near her most favorite place in the world, the back yard at the Prather house, near the pool. And her spirit? She is sitting in Grandma’s lap or taking a walk with her around the block; diving in the great swimming pool above, and just waiting for the rest of her family to join her.

The Triangle R Ranch

Future Farmers of America, like the Boy Scouts, had rank advancements. The ranks were Greenhorn, Chapter Farmer, State Farmer and American Farmer. I made Greenhorn as a freshman. After my first project and filling other requirements, I made Chapter Farmer. Most kids only made Chapter Farmer. I wanted to make State Farmer, which was hard to do. There were several things I could do to attain that rank, and one was to enter and win the FFA Public Speaking Contest. By winning the regional competition and qualifying to go to the State contest, I would qualify for State Farmer. I entered the contest; my subject was in favor of removing government price supports on farm products. To my surprise, and joy, I won the local contest. I kept winning. Soon, I was at the regional contest, and I won there. I went to the State contest and had as good a shot as anyone, but came up short. Had I won there, I would have gone to National. The competitors at National made American Farmer, the highest rank. I did make State Farmer and that was my goal. I still have all my FAA rank pins.

Every summer, the FFA from all three schools, and in my senior year, four schools (new high school), had the annual FAA picnic. We planned for it all year and it was a time of camaraderie not only with our chums from school, but our friends from the other schools as well. The biggest event of the day was the softball game. We always lost. We prepared for slow pitch, and the other school for fast pitch. I never even saw the ball fly by me. Every year we would say “next year’, but then next year it was the same thing. We had grilled hamburgers and all the fixings. Most of the veggies we actually grew. While I was in school, the hamburger was fresh ground and came from Uncle Henry’s Highlife restaurant. Uncle Henry always trimmed his own meat and when it was time for the annual picnic, Mom and I would go down to the Highlife and grind trimmings of New York steaks into hamburger. He would end up donating about 50 pounds each year.

To thank Uncle Henry, he was invited every year to the annual FAA Blue and Gold (sound like Cub Scouts) banquet. At the very first banquet he attended, he was awarded HONORARY CHAPTER FARMER. In my senior year I won the Public Speaking contest, and I spoke at that banquet. Then I had the honor of bestowing the rank of HONORARY STATE FARMER on Uncle Henry. As far as I know, he was the first person in San Jose to be awarded Honorary State Farmer.

Every fall the FAA chapter sponsored a Christmas card sales project. The money raised from the sale of Christmas cards helped defray some costs of the activities we had each year. As a reward for meeting our goal every year, Mr. Ralston took the boys who qualified by selling a minimum number of boxes of cards, to a snow trip in the Sierras. We would go to Sonora, CA and stay in the gym at the high school. The Principal of the high school was an old friend of Mr. Ralston and let us go up there each year. The cost to each boy was minimal, mostly to cover the food. We would leave out on Friday after school and have all day Saturday and part of Sunday to play. We came home Sunday afternoon. We would rent toboggans and sleds and have a great time. When I think of the things we did in school and compare them to what goes on today, I wonder how we ever survived. We didn’t have chartered busses or parents drive us up, we all piled into cars driven by students. We usually had 20 or so attend, and the only adult was Mr. Ralston… and he spent most of his time with his friend.

We would travel at breakneck speeds down the sledding hills on toboggans. And we did some pretty stupid things, and some of those things, now as an adult, really scare me. I know I wouldn’t let my grandkids pull any of the stunts we pulled. One time we were traveling down a crusty snow bank in the early morning. I had forgotten to bring my gloves, and when I got to the bottom of the hill, my frozen fingers were bleeding! In the early mornings the snow was crusty, and the crust could be like razor blades! Another time there were three of us on the toboggan and I was in the middle. Half way down the hill we hit a large bump and we all went flying off. While flying off, I slammed my neck into the head of the fellow in front of me. His head hit me right where my vocal chords are. I started spitting blood, but since I was not hurt otherwise, I didn’t seek medical help. However, I did bruise my vocal chords and spoke very softly for several days. And this was fun?

Because of the nature of running an orchard and a ranch, Mr. Ralston required help all day. He had the VoAg classes 3rd to 6th periods everyday, but needed someone for 2nd and 7th periods. So a special class was held those two periods. AG SHOP was the class designed to fill that need. A student had to be invited by Mr. Ralston to take Ag Shop, and generally only one student was invited per class. The class was offered only to seniors. I was invited to take 2nd period Ag Shop and Farns, 7th period. My regular Ag class was 3rd and 4th periods, which meant three of my morning classes every day were Ag, 1st period being PE. My main duty was to help out with the 9th grade class from Hoover. On field trips to the ranch, I would drive the truck out, and would have a load of students in the back of the truck. It was a lawyers dream! Fortunately, there were no accidents. The side racks on the truck were like the ones on military trucks and folded down to bench seating. School was over for me after 6th period, but I usually stayed until after 7th and helped out in Ag Shop. Then Farns and I would walk home.

The beginning of my Senior Year I applied to go to college at Cal Poly in San Louis Obispo, CA. I figured that my last shot of ever owning the Triangle R Ranch was to get a degree in some sort of Ag Science. Mr. Ralston helped me apply for scholarships, but in the end I opted to stay in San Jose and attend San Jose City College. The day I enrolled in City College, I knew I would never raise another steer. The Triangle R would remain a distant memory somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. But I did raise some beautiful tomatoes in Alabama

YUMMIE PEACHES

The pay phone by the cattle barn was ringing and ringing and no one was answering it. I was in my senior year in high school and it was County Fair time, and we were at the fairgrounds with our animals early one morning during the first week of school. Since no one was answering the phone, my buddy Deane (Farns) egged me on to answer it. So I did. “Fair Grounds Cattle Barn” I said into the phone. “Is Pete there?” came the reply. “I don’t see anyone here but me and Farns”, I said. “Come on, let me talk to Pete”, the female voice on the phone replied. “Mam”, I said, “there is no one here named Pete.” She asked, “Isn’t this Pete’s DoNut Shop?” “No, I replied, “this is the cattle barn at the fair grounds”. “Now she was getting irritated, “Come on, I know that this is Pete’s DoNut shop, and I need to talk to Pete!” Now I was my turn to have some fun. “I’m sorry”, I said, “but Pete got tired of the “hole” business and left.” She hung up!

The Santa Clara County Fair took place during the second week of September, which was also the first week of school. As exhibitors, we had “Exhibitor” passes, and we had 24 hour access to the fair grounds. Because we had animals at the fair, we were also excused from afternoon school classes during the first week. In fact, everyone in Ag just went straight to the fair in the mornings and stayed all day. The school teachers and administrators sort of looked the other way because we were good kids. So, our first week of school took place at the fair grounds. And in the early mornings when donut shops were open and normal people were not at the fairgrounds, we were there to answer the pay phone at the Cattle Barn.

Driver Education was a part of Sophomore Social Studies. We had classroom training for 6 weeks, then were scheduled to drive. The school had three Driver Ed cars and were parked in the Ag compound. Driving was 5 days long and the assignments for driving were made during the first week of school. So instead of getting signed up to drive, I was fooling around at the fair grounds. I didn’t get to drive until the last week of school, in June. Of course my birthday being in August, I could get my learner permit in February. So by the time it was my turn to drive, I was a veteran driver of 4 months! Unlike my own children’s driver ed classes where we had to pay hundreds of dollars over the years for all 8 kids, mine was part of the school curriculum and paid for by the over taxed California tax payers.

The midway at the fair afforded many opportunities to meet girls and have a lot of fun. As we boys sat around the cattle barn each morning, we would tell of our exploits of the night before about all the girls we met. The truth was we never “really met” any girls. Farns and I would just walk around and look at girls. Neither one of us actually had the courage to talk to any one of them. And neither one of us came from well-to-do families, so we didn’t ride many rides either. We just walked around and watched. I do have to confess that one year I was able to make a little money at the fair. There was one booth where you pitched nickels onto a table that had “Lucky Strike” logos all over the top. The object of the game was to get the entire nickel on the logo. If you did, you won a pack of cigarettes. Of course, you had to be 18 to play. And the barker took your word for it. There were several booths with similar games, but the operators kept those tables well waxed so the nickel just slid off the table, but in this one particular booth the table was not waxed and the nickel just stopped where it landed, or slid just a little. It was pretty easy to win. So I would pitch my nickels and win packs and packs of smokes. But I didn’t smoke. But all my friends did and smokes cost 30 cents. So I sold them for 20 cents. I had plenty of buyers, and had plenty of money to keep playing, and selling. I made enough money to keep a little jingle in my pocket.

One thing Farns and I figured out really quick was where the free food was. And it was there every day. Inside the commercial exhibition tent, business handed out samples of their wares. Two local bread bakeries handed out slices of bread sealed in a plastic wrapper. Several meat and cheese purveyors also handed out slices of lunch meat and American cheese. So with a stroll or two thru the tent, we had lunch! A local dairy was giving out half pint cartons of milk, so we had it all. By the end of the fair, though, they had wised up and it was harder to get free food from them. But by then my little enterprise was working well and I could buy a hotdog on a stick or an ear of corn on the midway. I guess that is why I have always liked midway foods.

During the summer time the free labor of Ag students disappeared. The school orchards still were in need of care, as were the animals at the ranch. The school district would hire a students for the summer to care for the orchards and ranch. Each of the schools had orchards. The summer between my Junior and Senior years, I was hired for that job at Lincoln. I think one of the qualifiers for the job was need, and I was from a single parent home. All the other kids in class had Dad’s at home, and in the 50s and 60s, most had good incomes. So I got the job.

The biggest part of the job was caring for the orchard. The school contracted out the harvesting of the apricots and prunes to commercial canners, but we had to care for the trees. Mostly that consisted of irrigating the orchard. The animals at the school ranch needed daily care and each school had a month in which they cared for the farm. My month was July.

When it was time to irrigate, I could hire two helpers. Irrigation generally took 5 days. I couldn’t hire until I was ready to turn water into the orchard. For several days I would use the tractor and an implement (can’t remember what we called it) attached to the tractor to put up irrigation checks and ditches. Irrigation checks are a series of small dams put up around groups of trees that hold the water. The ditch carries the water from the well to the trees. Irrigation could be labor intensive as we had to direct the water to the correct trees, and this was done manually with a shove, and It was very muddy.

One of the guys I hired was Eddie. He worked for his uncle who trucked watermelons to San Jose from the Imperial Valley of South Central California. So every day Ed would bring a couple of watermelons to work. We put them in the irrigation ditch because the water was really cold. By the time we were ready for a break, or lunch, they melons were ice cold. Good times!

I had quite a shock the first day of July when I went out to the school farm to feed the animals. Several of the sheep were dead! I had to drive back to a gas station several miles from the farm to call Mr. Ralston (no cell phones in 1962). He told me to load them up in the truck and take them to the Tallow Works next to the slaughter house (where I last saw Mendel) I got a buck a piece for them! Mr. Ralston told me keep the money! Fortunately, the animals were insured so the students didn’t lose money. I think replacement sheep were purchased. The next day there were several more dead sheep. I think we lost about 15. It turned out that the student, my counterpart, from San Jose High School fed the sheep too much grain. And sheep, not being the smartest animals on the farm, will eat until their stomachs burst. I find it odd that we say someone “eats like a pig”. It should be “like a sheep”. Pigs will eat only until they are full…sheep will eat until they are dead. The sheep that were dead on the second day died from the first over feeding. I made sure I fed exactly what was on the schedule.

For an Ag class project, the class planted an acre of tomatoes that spring. When they were ready at the end of May, we picked them and took them to the cannery and sold them. We learned we had to be very gentle with the fruit because the cannery wouldn’t buy damaged fruit. We had some culls, but in the end, we sold most of the fruit. Since I knew in early April that I would have the summer job, I decided to plant a half acre for another of my projects. I wasn’t going to sell them to the cannery for pennies, when I could do much better with a stand, and with care, the plants would produce all summer. I bought my plants when we got plants for the class project. Tomato plants cost something like a penny a piece, or a penny for two. Anyway, I planted a half acre. Another student planted a few rows himself, but quickly lost interest and gave them to me. I harvested boxes of tomatoes every day when they were ready. I put a sign up in front of the school and one in front of my house. “VINE RIPE TOMOATOES. 5 FOR 25 CENTS” Had people stopping in all the time. Very little fruit was wasted, and I got an A on the project.

My biggest disappointment that summer was over my Elberta Freestone Peaches. The orchard had a lot of cling peaches, which, like the cots and prunes, were contracted out to a commercial cannery. But there was a small section with a half dozen Elberta Freestone Peaches. Those are the best for canning, and are the most expensive to buy at the grocery store. As part of my compensation for the summer, I got the peaches! I could keep them, or I could sell them, but I had to harvest them. My mother was excited because she was going to can them. As the summer was coming to an end, my peaches were about ready to harvest. Finally, they were ready and I would pick them on Monday. On Friday I got the ladders out and the crates to put the peaches in. On Monday morning when I got to work, the trees had been picked clean! I was ticked. I found out that a kid in the younger Ag class and his family climbed the fence and picked the peaches. So my dreams of yummy peaches ….. !

TO BE CONTINUED

Red Ribbon Quality Thru and Thru

My Sophomore year was better than my Freshman year. First of all, Ag was a 2 hour class. We had it 5th and 6th periods … my last two classes of the day. That meant for me that I didn’t have to be back from the school ranch by the end of the 6th period. Most students went to school from 2nd period to 7th period, but some of us went from 1st to 6th. I don’t remember why, but it was normal to start at 2nd period, but if you requested it, you could start at 1st period. I guess that’s why I prefer to go to work early today, and get off earlier in the day.

My Ag project that year was a steer! I had the $50 and I was getting a cow! My first entry in my journal was that I put down a $50 deposit on my steer. Mr. Ralston took us to the bank and we got our loans for the remainder. As I remember, the steer cost $150. The Ag instructors from the three high schools purchased cattle and had them delivered to the school ranch. As an afternoon Ag student, we went to the School ranch when the trucks arrived and helped unload the animals. They were small calves that had just been weaned. We ran the cattle up the chute into the squeeze and put metal tags in their ears. Unlike the sheep, we didn’t stencil their backs. We turned them into the cattle corral and introduced them to hay and grain.

Buying a steer should be like buying a car. You go to the lot, kick the tires, etc, and make your choice. But in high school VoAg, it was drawing a number out of a hat …. literally! All the numbers on the tags we put in the ears were put in a cowboy hat and we got to draw. The number you drew was your steer. I named my steer Mendel, in honor of Uncle Leland, a name he used jokingly. Mendel was a brown and white Hereford.

Now that I had a steer, I had to halter break him. One day in class we made rope halters to use with our steers. That halter was all that we needed to break a steer. It was an easy process to break a steer. First you get the steer up the chute into the squeeze, messy rear end and all, and put the halter on his head. You put on a good pair of gloves and get a good grip on the end of the rope. When you are ready, your buddy opens the door to the squeeze and the steer charges out and you then hang on for dear life! It is a matter of will; and you WILL have a fight on your hands. You weigh 145 pounds and the steer well over 250. You have your end of the rope in your hands and he has his on his head. You are holding your ground, as is he. .The rope can easily slip out of your hands, but it isn’t coming off the steers head!. Then he decides to charge, and you head for the nearest fence! Now you have to go back into the corral and somehow get your end of the rope again. Eventually you do, and after a few hours, he is gentle as a lamb, not as dumb, but as gentle.

Soon all you have to do is go into the corral and the steer comes up to you and you just slip the halter on and walk him like you do your dog. We would walk them around the corral training the steer to be lead as I would have to lead him in the judging arena and auction barn later.

And soon it was fair time again. We loaded the steers into a cattle truck and transported them to the fair grounds. The steers had to always be on a halter once there because the stalls we had were not closed in. So we would give the steer enough slack where he could get his food and water and lay down. Mendel was so gentle that after I put fresh straw in the stall, he would lay down and I could lay up next to him and take a nap and he never moved a muscle. I could actually sit on his shoulders and ride him like a horse, but didn’t do it often.

Bathing a steer is like bathing a dog, only he’s bigger! We actually had animal wash points, not unlike a car wash, but with hoses and brushes, but not a foaming brush! We pampered our steers and bathed them with shampoo that was supposed to leave shiny hair. The biggest problem was the white hair on the steer because living in a dirty corral all his life, the hair wasn’t white. So we used good old Aunt Martha’s Bluing. We would put the bluing on the white hair and scrub and the white became white. One enterprising young fellow decided to bleach his and dribbled bleach on other than white hair, and had a disaster on his hands. Mr. Ralston forbade us from using bleach;, and none of us did.

When the judging came around, ol’ Mendel only got a red ribbon, or second place. It had nothing to do with how he was raised, just the luck of the draw way back with the cowboy hat. Anyway, that red ribbon cost me a kit of cents per pound during the auction. But, I make made enough to pay off my loan at the bank, and not much more.

I will never forget the next time I saw Mendel after the fair. Following the auction we couldn’t do much with the animals because they no longer belonged to us. The next week we had a field trip to the San Jose Slaughter House and it was there I next saw Mendel. He wasn’t his gentle old self. In fact, he was hanging on a hook, all dressed out with his ear tag stabbed into his side so we could find our animals. Most of the animals had a USDA CHOICE or USDA PRIME stamp on their carcass. But Ol’ Mendel was marked USDA GOOD – red ribbon quality thru and thru.

I had two more steers while in high school. In my Junior year I had Stack and my Senior year, Duke. Both were blue ribbon steers and marked USDA PRIME. Don’t remember how much I got in auction, but a lot more than my first one. One thing I did notice, As I grew older I realize that the animals weren’t as important to me as they were when I was a Freshman and Sophomore. The fair was a date place, and the animals were a babe magnet, but I didn’t spend as much time with them as I once did. After all, I did have wheels!

FRANKIE HAD A LITTLE LAMB, WHOSE ....(Part 2)

To get a grade in VoAg, we had to have one major project per year to get our grade. The project could be an animal or a truck crop project of one acre or more. While most of the kids in my Ag class lived in town, many of the kids going to San Jose High School actually lived on farms. The truck crop (plants) projects were mostly for those kids who lived on a farm. For those of us who didn’t live on a farm, our only option was a livestock project at the school ranch. We had a choice of raising at least one steer, a sheep, or hog. I decided to raise a sheep. In fact, I ended up with two in my frosh year. A lamb required a $10 deposit for each sheep. The hog was the same price, but they really STINK! What I really wanted was to raise a steer, but it required a $50 deposit, and my mom just didn’t have $50 …. She barely had the $20.

With money in hand, Mr. Ralston took us to the Bank Of America downtown and we got a loan from the bank for the rest of the money needed to buy the animals. The project ended when we sold our animals at auction at the Santa Clara County Fair the next fall. We then would take our check to the bank and paid off the loan. The rest we got to keep. I made that trip three more times while in high school and borrowed money for steers.

That first year in Ag I learned all kinds of things about raising and caring for animals. Even though we had our own project, we had to work the entire farm. I remember moving irrigation pipe in the pasture, graining animals and unloading hay. We learned to worm animals, tag sheep and cattle by putting a permanent metal tag in the ear (talk about ear piercing), relieving cattle with bloat (whew, as smelly process). To relieve a bloated steer, you drive a sharp steel pipe into its belly and the gas whooshes out! After removing the pipe, a dressing is then place on the wound so it heals. The pipe actually hurts less than the gas bloating … or so I was told. I wonder who told that to our teacher. Certainly not the steer!

My first project as a freshman were my two sheep. I can’t remember what I named them, though. Unlike a dog, or even a steer, sheep have no personality and like a cat, never warm up to you. No matter how often you worked with them, you always had to catch them. I guess I wasn’t a very good shepherd, or if the sheep knew my voice, they thought it would be fun to make the fat kid run around the corral trying to catch them. Once we caught them, though, they pretty well stayed put. During the year we didn’t do much with the sheep besides making sure they were fed and got the proper medication. Since there was a whole herd of sheep, and since sheep all look the same, we had to find a way to quickly identify each sheep. This was so we could find our own lambs, but also to keep a record of what sheep had been medicated, etc. So, we used a stencil and ink and blotted a big number on their back. The number was the same number as on the metal tag we put in its ear. Simple enough. The freshman classes of the three high schools had the task of stenciling the sheep.

Another task we had was to move cattle into a squeeze. The squeeze was a pen that would actually render the animal immovable. The messiest job was moving cattle up the chute to the cattle squeeze to tend to the animal. Cattle feeding on alfalfa pasture for the first time develop scours, or the runs. These young steers were only in the pasture a few days when we had to work on them. Needless to say, their rear ends and tails were covered with … well you know with what they were covered with. You must coax a steer to go down a chute, and the easiest way is with a cattle prod, which the school did not use. We had to do it the old fashioned way, grab the steer by the tail and twist the tail up to get the animal to move. This caused a little discomfort to the animal, and he moved! It also caused a great deal of consternation to a 14 year old to grab a tail full of runny cow poop! We tried to find a few clean hairs and gently twist. But our mentors, the Ag Shop students made us grab the tail and twist. After all, we could wash our hands later! So, I learned to roll up my sleeves and grab on to the tail, poop and all, and then wash my hands. It is a lesson that would stay with me thru high school, and thru my life …. It especially helped when it came to changing diapers!

In September we went to the Santa Clara County Fair. We would show our sheep for judging. We had to walk our sheep into the ring and then have them stand still while the judges looked over the animals. Before the judging, we had to prep our sheep. We put the sheep on a stand with its head immobile, then we would trim them up so they looked almost square. Wanted the back straight as a board.

Of course, the best part of going to the fair was meeting the 4H girls. One girl was trying to get her lamb upon the stand to trim it up when the sheep bolted out of her arms and headed for the freedom of the midway. We were in the sheep barn and the animal had to go down several isles before reaching freedom. Once free, the animal would have been impossible to catch, and would actually run itself to death – not to mention a cute 4H farm girl losing her project. Several of us tried to catch the runaway sheep, but most people just jumped out of the way. As the sheep rounded the last corner before its freedom, I made a beautiful open field tackle and brought the sheep down. It was great. The girl was really grateful, but that was it. She would never talk to me again. Stuck up Junior farm girls just don’t talk to Freshman city boys who were trying to pass off as Juniors, and trying even harder to be country!

At the appointed time, I entered the arena along with 9 others and our sheep were judged. Most of us got blue ribbons. I got one for each sheep. I think I still have them. A few days later our sheep went to the auction where I sold both sheep. The auction was on the final day of the fair, and after the auction I returned the sheep the their pens, and never saw them again. I am sure they ended up as lamb chops in Safeway! After the fair was over, Mr. Ralston took us all down to the bank and we paid off our loans. I think I ended up with about a $50 profit total for both sheep.

Raising sheep was okay, but I had determined that I would never raise another one. Sheep are really stupid animals and I decided to let others raise them!

Radishes Don't Grow in Bunches

Radishes Don’t Grow in Bunches

Okay, I will admit it. In high school I was a roper or an aggie! I belonged to the Future Farmers of America, better known as the FFA. I enrolled in Vocational Agriculture as a freshman at Herbert Hoover Junior High School. Hoover was next to Lincoln High. The Ag Department and classroom were in the school orchard and Ag area across the street from the main high school. The Ag area was between the campuses of the two schools. I had Ag first period and we walked over to the Ag classroom every morning. Actually, as I remember (although my rememberer may be wrong), Ag class was during the 1st period at Lincoln, but was 2nd period at Hoover. I think my first class in my freshman year was Wood Shop. But back to the story.

I really don’t know why I took Ag, but it sounded more interesting than science. And it counted as a science class. I had always day dreamed of owning a ranch, and I guess it just fit right in… although I had no chance of ever actually owning a ranch. It did afford me the opportunity to raise some livestock and truck crops. As a young boy I dreamed of owning the “Triangle R” Ranch. I have no idea where that name came from, but if I ever was able to own a ranch, it would have been the Triangle R. I think it may have come from the Spin and Marty series on the Mickey Mouse Club. The summer ranch camp Spin and Marty attended may have had a similar name.

My Ag teacher was Mr. Ralston … M.C. Ralston … Merrill Chauncey Ralston. He was old when I knew him, but then I am old now to a 14 year old. He had been a teacher his entire career, teaching many subjects, but now taught VoAg. I think in my freshman year he also taught a math class, but by the time I was a sophomore, he taught only VoAg.

VoAg consisted of classroom and hands-on farming projects. Our classroom was across from the main campus and was a modern, 60s style classroom. I think the classroom was only a couple of years old. Next to the classroom was a metal barn building. In the barn were all the faming implements, the tractor and the farm truck. The compound was fenced in, and large orchards of peach trees, walnut trees, prune trees, and apricot trees and an acre or so of unplanted land for Ag projects, were all inside the fence.

Each year we were required to have an Ag project. We maintained a journal in which we had to keep an accurate log of our projects. Our education consisted of animal and plant biology and how to actually raise animals and crops. Our first project came during January. We were learning how to plant tomatoes from seeds. We planted the tomato seeds in wooden flats (shallow boxes), and kept them in a green house. When the seedlings were a couple of inches high, we transplanted them into individual planting pots. We kept them in the greenhouse until time to plant them in April. We all got a few plants to take home and plant in our yards. It was my very first attempt at planting anything and we were able to have fresh tomatoes in our salads all summer.

Next to the tomatoes in my back yard, I decided to plant some radishes. I love radishes and learned that they were easy to grow. I planted them from seed and soon I had a patch of radishes. My mom would ask me when the radishes would be ready, but I just didn’t know. Finally, my mom came out and picked some radishes. When I got home from school she asked me why I hadn’t picked any radishes. I told her I was waiting for them to grow into bunches! After all, the only radishes I ever saw were those she got at the store, and they were all in bunches! She told me that radishes don’t grow in bunches! I had no clue that radishes didn’t bunch up for harvest. I guess I am lucky I knew that milk came from cows and not cartons!

TO BE CONTINUED