Visit to My Past

I headed south yesterday for a bike rally in Ft. Pierce with friends to support the 29th annual food drive for the needy. It was a very nice event, although the heat was so intense it made it almost unbearable to walk around and enjoy the festivities. Nonetheless, it was for a good cause and worth the ride. I lived in Florida as a child for a few years, moving from ranch to ranch as the result of my step father being a ranch foreman. While this offered very little stability, it did afford me the opportunity to experience a variety of things that children today could not appreciate. I'm really going somewhere with this although I always seem to take the long road to get to the point.

We journeyed down a country road and while doing so, I had this feeling that signs and places were familiar to me. I couldn't quite place why until we finally ventured upon a sign "The Blue Head Ranch." I was dumbfounded and in pure shock. So much so that I grabbed the hand brake on my motorcycle and had to stop. I pulled into the dirt drive, got off my motorcycle and just stood there in sheer disbelief. In all my years rarely did I think about this place or my life there. While standing at the now locked entrance, memories starting flooding as did the tears. What a truly wonderful place this was for me and what were the odds in all my years that I would inadvertently see this place again?

As a child, my sister and I would walk down what seemed to be a mile long dirt lane to catch the school bus, carrying an electric cattle prod to keep the Brahma bulls at bay. Looking at that lane now as an adult, it really wasn't that long. It's funny how we see places and circumstances as children and when we are afforded the opportunity to revisit the past, things aren't always as we remembered or perceived them to be.

The ranch house was much smaller than I had remembered as well. My bedroom had its own private entrance and screened in porch of which I would have to leave the main house and walk around to gain access to. The room itself was completely knotty pine and had it's own bathroom. As a child, my perception of this living arrangement was one that I felt as though I had my own apartment less the amenities. How silly is that? I remember leaving my room one afternoon, walking back to the main house and stepping on a ground rattler! Ground rattlers were considered more dangerous than rattlesnakes because they have no rattles to warn you in advance that you are a threat to them. I must have jumped 3 feet in the air when I felt that snake under foot and sprung like a jack rabbit hopping continually until I was safely in the main portion of the house.

I stood at the ranchs' entrance for approximately 45 minutes. My cell phone started ringing, my friends calling, worried by my disappearance. The ride and my friends no longer were important at that moment. I needed this time to myself to remember a period in my life that held such fondness. I assured them that I was fine and to please continue on. I would meet them later for dinner at my home. My Mother died four years ago at the age of 56 from cancer. I look at this happenstance as a time to recall that closeness with her and now how much I truly miss her. Hence the reason for more tears then and now.

Mom made sure that we knew how to ride horses, took us fishing at the pond filled with catfish and taught us how to bait our hooks. She was a firm believer that if we were going to learn how to drive, it had to be a stick shift. Her words " If you can drive a stick, you can drive anything." With that in mind, she would take me out in her new Vega station wagon (too funny) down the lane and off to adjacent dirt roads and turn me loose at the age of 12. Once she was sure that I had mastered the stick and could drive to her specification, I was then allowed to take the car alone, but had to promise that I would not leave the dirt roads. I never broke my promise.

As previously noted, my step father was the ranch foreman and of course a foreman had to have ranch hands. Each day the men would gather at the out buildings and head off to take care of the cattle and what ever chores that needed to be attended to. Mom would then start preparing lunch early in the morning for the men. Lunch was always a feast, never did it consist of sandwiches. Living on the ranch, my step father would take us all out with the dogs (7 to be exact) and we would go wild boar, quail and deer hunting. The freezer was never empty actually to the contrary. Mom would take out deer steaks,roast, pork or whatever she deemed fitting for the days lunch along with every side dish imaginable and away she went.

As I stood there still in amazement, I proceeded to call my brother and sister as I wanted to share my delight and reminisce with them. To my dismay, I could not reach either. I didn't leave messages simply because I wanted to hear the shock in their voices when presented with this unexpected, but truly wonderful find.

I could go on with this as there were so many exciting events at The Blue Head, but I won't. I feel blessed and fortunate, that I was provided this opportunity to reflect back and share that quiet time with my Mother in spirit. I only hope she knew just how much I loved her and how thankful I am for every thing she instilled in me...