PIONEER DAYS

PIONEERTOWN

That's Scotch and me in front of the OK Corral

The Champagne Cowgirls revisited Pioneertown last weekend.  We weren’t sure it was going to happen because there were high wind warnings the day before we were supposed to leave, and Peggy’s horse,Solo, looked like he was about to colic.  Oh no!  I continued to get ready, packing and shopping for groceries,  as if nothing was wrong.  Paid a visit to my horse, Scotch, and, looking deep into his big, soulful, brown eyes,  I whispered he might want to say a little horsey prayer for Solo, because if he was sick, we couldn’t go on our fun trip.

Scotch, the Magic Horse

I like to think that Scotch has magical powers, because Peggy called me late that night to say Solo was fine and we were going for sure.

Giant windmills. We're not in Escondido any more!

The winds died down miraculously Friday morning and we trailered our horses into the Wild West and backwards in time.  

Pioneertown. Photo: Wikipedia

Pioneertown was built in the 1940’s to shoot Old West movies.  The motel next door was built for the actors to stay in.  Our room was called “The Duke”

and there were pictures of John Wayne (my hero) on the walls, along with Old West artifacts.

Come on in, Partner, and set a spell

We will rustle you up some grub in our gourmet kitchen

Don't think they had microwaves in the 1800s

Ah yes, Home Sweet Home

As we unloaded our horses, a guy drove up in a red Mustang convertible.  His passenger was a young woman with her hair tied up stylishly in a red scarf.  I spoke with her briefly, commenting on their cute car.  She said it was a rental and I could tell by her accent that she wasn’t from around these here parts.  I got all excited when she said they were from Norway and told her about my visit with Kyle to her country. 

It turns out, we came on the absolute perfect weekend.  The previous weekend was cold and rainy and now it was in the mid 80’s.  We got this information from the two fellows at the Saddle Shop in town.  We remembered them from our last trip here.  They are always friendly and helpful and know all the history and latest scoop.

We went for a late afternoon ride, admiring all the pretty wildflowers the rain had brought.  Jack rabbits darted out in front of us from time to time and a few horny toads scurried into the brush.

We toasted the sunset from our front porch, and later, enjoyed a starlit sky.  The stars definitely seem closer and brighter up here in the high desert and we had a spectacular view of the Big Dipper.

On Saturday morning, our Norwegian neighbors left, gifting us with a case of beer they couldn’t possibly drink before their flight home.  We saddled up and headed for the Sawtooth Trail, which ended up being about a 12 mile ride.  We were both proud of our horses being so careful and surefooted on the steep, rocky trails, and carrying us safely on this four hour journey.  I imagined John Wayne galloping his horse along these same trails. 

Yes, those are obviously John Wayne's footprints

Love these rock formations

 The terrain is pretty desolate except for the patches of wild flowers, interesting rock formations and Yucca trees.  It was warm – you certainly wouldn’t want to be stuck out here for too long without water – but there was a strong breeze which kept us from being too hot.  Of course we had to make our requisite “split stop” at the top of a hill with a killer view of the Morongo Valley.

Split Stop with a view

Photo Op. Photo: Peggy Jones

Peggy and Solo

Relaxing at the halfway point

We got back to Pioneertown just in time to see the gunfight show.  A group of actors called the Mane Street Stampede, performs skits here on Saturdays and Sundays.  This was a good opportunity to desensitize our horses to loud noises.   

Bang Bang!

The guns were fired numerous times during every skit which always ends with someone shooting the bad guy who falls down dramatically and lies prone in the dusty street.  I know Scotch was nervous and felt him twitch with every shot, but he didn’t spin or try to bolt like he’d done before.  Solo was looking to his big brother, Scotch, to see how he should react to this situation.

Dude, just chill

I patted and praised him for being so calm, but when the show was over and we rode through the town, Scotch eyeballed everything warily and spooked at clothes, tablecloths, and everything flapping in the wind.  He was pretty excited, even after our four hour ride.

Our Norwegian neighbors were replaced with 3 guys, two of them German, who were friendly and seemed happy to speak German with me.  We all went to Pappy & Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace for dinner and to see Jim Lauderdale in concert. 

Jim Lauderdale rocked the house. Photo: acousticmusicscene.com

Peggy and I had a table right up front by the stage which we thought was great until everyone stood in front of us on the dance floor, blocking our view of the band. Still, I was impressed with Jim’s energy, enthusiasm and obvious passion for playing his music.  Even when his band mates took a break, Jim stayed on stage playing his guitar and singing.  He played into the wee hours of the morning.  Long after we had left and gone back to our room, we could still hear him playing!

We were already nestled in our beds when we heard our German neighbors returning from the concert.  Even though our lights were out, they banged on our window, wanting us to join them for another beer.  I laughed and shouted out that I only drink Sekt (sparkling wine) and they should go to bed.

The next morning, they were at our door, politely asking for aspirin for their hangovers.  We had coffee together and talked more about Germany and traveling.  Then they climbed on their steel horses (Harleys) and rode off into the morning.  Peggy and I got on our REAL horses and went for another ride before heading home.

Goodbye Pioneertown!  Best trip ever!

Scotch takes time to smell the flowers. Photo: Peggy Jones

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY ... OR WELCOME TO HELL (YOUR CHOICE)

Five years ago I bought this house.  It was a time of transition – having survived the loss of our home to fire, the breakup of my marriage, I was moving with my daughter and son into a new life.  I was happy that I had a nice, new, safe home for us all to live in, complete with water and sunset views, and close to the kids’ school.  

 I had always wanted granite counter tops in my kitchen and now I had them.   

I bet you’re thinking:  five years is enough time for good things to happen, a bright future, a happy ending.  Right?  Me too.  That’s exactly what I was thinking/hoping for/expecting.

Well, not so much.   We suffered through more emotional trauma, and four significant water leaks in my home. (Fire? Water? What the hell??)  Every time I think, “OK, I got through that.  Now things will get better, right?” I’m faced with a new disaster.  Is this a test?

There's a German TV show I discovered on line called Bernd Das Brot (Bernd, The Bread). It's about this loaf of bread named Bernd who lives a pathetic, ziggy like existence.  Everything bad happens to poor Bernd and his typical refrain is "Mein Leben ist die Holle" (my life is hell).  It's a funny show and the kids and I love to watch it and laugh at this pitiful character.

Right now, I am Bernd.  It's OK, you can still laugh.  I'm laughing too.  I'm laughing hysterically.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA  See?  Because what else can I do?

I’ve been on a personal quest for enlightenment – meditating, thinking positive thoughts, trying to believe the universe really doesn’t have it in for me. 

I HATE you!

Sometimes, like when your world is crashing down around your ears, it's really hard to stay positive.

Yesterday was our five year anniversary living here and I told my son we should celebrate this important milestone.  Things went downhill after that.

I had called a plumber for a possible water leak and after his inspection, was informed the leak was so massive, my entire kitchen would have to be torn apart.  The rest of the day was spent removing dishes from cabinets that were about to be destroyed and watching in horror as my walls were torn apart.  I now have dishes, appliances and miscellaneous clutter piled on the dining table, spilling out into the hallway and into the garage.  My house looks like an episode from Hoarders.  

Now where did I put that can opener?

Think we need a few more glasses and bottles

A disturbing call with my insurance agent suggested they might not cover this astronomical expense.  Reeling from this news, I tried to absorb what the restoration guy was telling me about demolishing my walls, cabinets, and cherished granite counter tops.  I looked over at my son, trying to hold it together, but I’m sure I looked shell shocked.  If I were a 1700’s corset wearing maiden, I would have held my hand to my forehead and swooned dramatically and elegantly to the floor, my billowing (yet stylish) skirts floating around my motionless body. 

What I wanted to do was run outside screaming maniacally like the Tasmanian Devil. 

 My head was spinning, my stomach was churning and I was trying not to cry.

Giant fans, dehumidifiers and air cleaners were hooked up in my kitchen, office and hallway.  They are so unbelievably loud, I can hardly hear the chaos in my brain.

Aw, Home Sweet Home

Kyle came home from school and I tried to talk with him over the roaring fans.  “HOW WAS YOUR DAY?” I shouted at him.  He mouthed something I couldn’t hear and I just smiled and nodded.  I told him what I loved about our house was how quiet and peaceful it is.  “WHAT??” he answered.

Doesn't everyone store their oven in the hallway?

Trying to go about my normal life is interesting, with the roaring fans creating a little tornado effect in my kitchen.  The oven has been pulled out, but I can still use my stove.  I turned the burner on to make some dinner and, with my hair blowing into my face, watched the flames dance dangerously close to my hair and other flammable objects.   Hmmm, seems a little dangerous.  I turned the burner off and used the microwave instead.

This is a test. Only a test...

So welcome to my life.  Now picture me meditating in a Zen like position, breathing deeply, not letting the noise, chaos, clutter, or the whirlwind in my kitchen get to me.  Yes, picture me like that. 

Meanwhile, I will be running down the street screaming.

 All photos, except for the obvious ones of my house are from the internet.

ERNIE

His name is Ernie and he was born in Czechoslovakia in 1930.  We met him when my family moved to Reno, Nevada in the late 1960’s.  Mom and Dad bought a brand new house in the Virginia Foothills area and he and his wife, Rosemarie, were our neighbors. German was their native language, and although their English was fluent, they never lost their charming accents.   My parents became very good friends with them and threw lots of cocktail and dinner parties together, either at their home or ours.  I knew Ernie had lived in Europe during World War II, but he never wanted to talk about it, didn't want to relive unspeakable memories.  
 They both had wonderful senses of humor, were irreverent, and highly entertaining. I can still see Rosemarie sitting by the fireplace in our living room, gesturing with her cocktail glass as she told some off color joke.  I hear her boisterous, throaty laughter as she delivered the punch line.

Aunt Doris with Rosemarie, 1999

 I babysat their son and daughter along with my own little sister for a while, and when I was 15, Ernie got me my first job in a restaurant downtown he was managing.  He was a highly sought after employee and held prestigious positions as a Maitre‘d in some of the largest casinos in Reno and Tahoe through the years.  He met all the famous headliners, including Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr., and I loved hearing his stories about celebrities.  Sometimes my parents would take us out to dinner where he was working and I was impressed with his elegant attire, his confidence and poise.  He had no problem telling his employers if he was displeased and would not tolerate being talked down to. I think he changed jobs a lot.

After I spent a year in Germany, I was able to talk to Ernie and Rosemarie in their native language.  I eventually moved to San Diego, but always enjoyed visiting them when I came back to see my parents.

After Dad died in 1999, they both tried to reach out to Mom, but she was having her own issues and their friendship fell apart.  

When the Witchcreek Fire came barreling through our neighborhood in 2007, Rosemarie called my cell phone to make sure we were OK.  When I told her we’d lost our home, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things we’d lost, Rosemarie recited an old German proverb:  “If you’re always looking in the rearview mirror, you won’t get very far.”  

Ernie said, "Yes, it's bad that you lost everything, but imagine losing your home and seeing other people walking down the street wearing your own clothes."

When Mom died in 2008, they came to her funeral, and Rosemarie slipped in the snow and fell, injuring her leg.  This led to some serious infections, major illnesses and her eventual death last year.  Ernie was by her side until the very end and I know this must be a lonely time for him now.  He told my sister he wasn’t interested in dating any of the single women he’s met.  “If I want to look at wrinkles, I can just look in the mirror!”

Over Christmas vacation, my son and I drove to Reno where my sister is now living in our parents’ old house. 

Laura is glad to be back "home"

 I invited Ernie up for dinner one night and he seemed very happy to spend a few hours with us. 

My parents' house brought back many memories for him and he said how said it was that my mom and dad and his Rosemarie were no longer with us.  It was a very memorable evening, as Ernie entertained us with the fascinating story of his life and how he came to live in the US.  
 

Czechoslovakia, 1945, Internet photo

He was 15 when the war ended in 1945 and, he said, that’s when things got really ugly in his hometown.  The Czech gorilla army arrested his father and beat him so severely, he was never the same again. 
 

Internet photo

Ernie and his mom were forced to leave their home and all their possessions behind.  They were homeless for a while and scrappy Ernie found work wherever he could. They were starving. He remembered knocking on a neighbor's door - the building looked fine from the outside, but when the woman opened her front door, Ernie saw that there was no roof and no walls, just the facade. 
 

Theresienstadt, Czechoslovakia,during World War II.  Internet photo

He wandered to a neighboring town one day and saw a childhood friend standing in a window.  He called out to him and said he was so hungry and did he have any food.  Ludwig welcomed him inside, said he worked for a restaurant and could get him food.  His friend fed him, got him a job, and so began Ernie’s career in the food industry. 

Things eventually got better and Ernie moved, first to Canada, then to California in the 1950's where he fell in love and married the lovely Rosemarie.  They eventually moved to Reno and settled into the house where he still lives.   His parents were able to come visit him there too once or twice.

As I listened to him recall the atrocities of war and his efforts to survive, it became clear to me why he is so strong, resilient, and why he would never put up with someone talking down to him.  Why would he?  When you have seen and survived horror, why tolerate anything or anyone you don't like?

Ernie has a slender build and has always been fit and agile. He is in his 80’s now and retired, but still keeps very active, hiking through the Nevada hills with his German Shorthaired dog, and hunting.   
 

Looks like Ernie's dog. Internet photo

 Still, we were concerned about him walking home in the dark that cold night.  We offered to drive him or walk with him but he was adamant that he was perfectly capable of walking alone.  When we kept insisting, he pulled a small gun out of his pocket to show us he was prepared for any trouble!

Internet photo

 Ernie, you are my hero.