The Life and Times of a Chapter President

The joyous occasion occurred in Nampa Idaho, one fall evening.  The sire was from good Owyhee County/Silver City stock; the dam was out of a Scottish immigrant that settled near Peck Idaho. Home was to be a 28-acre farm just south of Homedale.  It was a perfect place to raise a herd of young’uns; lots of pastures and fields and outdoor activities to grow ‘em up robust and healthy.

After the wars, Dad came home and got hired on as a Rural Mail Carrier, a job he held for the next thirty-something years.  Mom graduated from the U of I and came down here to teach Home Ec.  She ended up being a stay-at-home mom, which was the norm back then, and besides carrying mail, Dad also farmed, through rain, sleet, snow and dark of night.  He raised hay, corn, wheat, and beef cows.  Twenty eight acres was just big enough to keep the kids in chores and teach them a work ethic, and to have horses.

Horses were my life.  I can’t remember when I fell in love with them, but I got it from my mom, and I  know I was pretty little—about knee-high to a grasshopper, I think.  Every summer when we’d go up to Granddad’s I’d hound my older cousin to take me horseback riding.  She hated me, I’m sure.  Then Granddad gave me his old hunting mare, which was too old to be too dangerous for a little tyke, but I learned a lot from that horse.

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