summer camp (he was a captain in the reserve). One year mother took Frank and me to the New Mexico Military Institute in Roswell where dad was winding up two weeks of training as a cavalry officer. We were to pick him up after the concluding ceremony. As we three stood on the edge of the parade ground watching the mounted men and officers pass in review, I felt all of the excitement and pride of the moment. I was fascinated to see the horses keep perfect time to the music, rider and horse swayed as one. The strains of 'Let me call you Sweetheart' remain in my memory yet.

 

One year dad went to Fort Huachuca and spent two weeks there as a white officer in a negro cavalry outfit. When he came back he had lots of tales to tell us. I remember one story in particular. It went like this: On an occasion when dad was O.D. (officer of the day) he overheard a conversation between two black troopers just outside his office-- one asked the other, "What kind of bugler do you have in troop K?" answer "The greatest! Why when he blows taps ya look down at ya pillow and feels jes' like you is on a feather bed!! It's like ol' Chaley Spivack was blowin the sweetest trumpet in the whole world!" The first trooper then said, "That ain't nothin. Our bugler tops him by a mile! When he blows 'Soupy', ya look down at the beans in ya mess kit and says, strawberries - quit ya trying to shove the whipped cream off da cut grass!" Tall tale-- I don't know. And, there were other stories that year--. Dad had the greatest admiration for the black men in his outfit. He told us how fearless they were. How they could charge down a mountainside at break-neck speed holding a saber in one hand and a 45 revolver in the other-- the bridle reins being gripped between their teeth!

 

There are memories of family outings at Ruidoso, New Mexico; one in particular: All my dad's family met us there; they had rented a log cabin. While we were there aunt Mary, dad and mother hiked to the top of "Old Baldy". One day I did a little hiking too; and I remember running down the mountain so fast that it was impossible to stop. I ran into a big tree, but luckily was not badly injured. Uncle Everet and aunt Louise were there; Uncle Rox wasn't because that was before he and aunt Mary were married.

 

My grandfather Will retired in 1927 and shortly thereafter, he and grandmother went on a grand tour of the United States. They traveled by car, or train - I'm not sure, to Oregon and Washington where they visited grandmother's father, my great grandfather Reeves. Then they went all the way across the country to Pennsylvania and Maryland to visit the Will and Fair families on my grandfather's side of our family. While they were on that side of the continent they gathered a lot of information about our antecedents by visiting old cemeteries, courthouses and libraries. Grandmother made copious notes as they went along and grandpa took oodles of pictures of the various sites and places of interest that they saw and visited. I still have a few of those mementos of theirs.

 

Grandpa Will's retirement didn't last ... in 1929 the country was plunged into what came to be known as the "Great Depression". This came about with the crash of the stock market in 1928. This, of course, meant that he would have to go back to farming. That very fact turned out to be a momentous opportunity for me to share countless adventures and unforgettable experiences with my grandfather, which otherwise would not have been afforded me.

 

In 1929 grandpa was 68 years old, or close to it, and I was 5. On a typical day when the two of us were together we would get out of bed about four-thirty in the morning. As soon as we were dressed we went down to the "milking parlor" where grandpa and a "hired hand" would milk about 40 cows, which the two of them did every evening as well as every morning! A lot of kitty cats would gather there while the milking was going on. As they "milled" around him grandpa would raise the cow's teat and give them a squirt right in their faces; that just tickled

 

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