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When I was ten or eleven, I lived in a campground/trailer park in ranch country. The park was in a little tree-filled valley surrounded by rolling hills filled with either irrigated pasture or non-irrigated fields dotted with cactus, sagebrush, and tumbleweed. The streams and ponds were caked white with alkali, and the air was sickly sweet with it. It was not unusual to see a cowboy riding his horse into town, or to see a border collie or two balanced precariously on the back of a flatbed truck as it bounced along a ranch's maintenance trails.
Several families lived in the campground year-round in campers and travel trailers. My favourite neighbours were Bill and Edie, an elderly couple with a black Doberman Pinscher named Snopper. Bill was a retired cowboy, rodeo rider, and rodeo clown. He was tough as nails, and he and his wife were also some of the sweetest, nicest people I've ever met. They acted like surrogate grandparents to all the kids who lived in the area.
I don't know the stories of the parents who lived in the trailer park. None of us were rich, that was for darned sure. One father was a long-haul trucker. His two oldest sons were close to my age, and we'd sing Juice Newton's "Playing With the Queen of Hearts" while we played made-up games and tussle in the dirt. The young identical twin daughters were just as rough and tumble, and they were always covered in dust and scabs.
Another dad was a drunk and a brute. His daughter Senta was my age. We were best friends until the time I saw her dad get trashed and try to run Bill down with his truck. After that, she wouldn't talk to me anymore. I think she was ashamed of her Dad, and wanted to save face by deciding to hate me. Senta didn't go to school. Senta didn't appear to have much of any sort of education. I felt sorry for her. I think that made her hate me more.
I was also good friends with a boy named Paul. He went to school with me, and I had a little bit of a crush on him. His Mom had remarried, and I guess his stepfather didn't like him much, so they'd frequently lock him out of the trailer, and he'd roam around trying to find someone who'd let him inside to get warm and have something to eat. He spent a lot of time at Bill and Edie's.
There was another family at the far end of the park. I can't remember their names. They had two big Standard Poodles, and three or four kids. The kids kept to themselves, and would have little to do with any of us. I tried to make friends with them many times, but they treated me coolly. My last attempt to make friends with them was terribly transgressive for a Jehovah's Witness kid like me. My elementary school was holding elections, and even though JWs are extremely anti-politics, I thought that if I nominated the oldest girl as student body president, that she might think more kindly of me.
It worked.
She refused the nomination (she was trying to help her friend to become president), but she did thank me for the thought. After that, she and her brothers and sisters got along with me much better...until my parents found out they'd been caught vandalizing heavy machinery in a lot close to the campground. Then I was forbidden to hang out with them.
Several families lived in the campground year-round in campers and travel trailers. My favourite neighbours were Bill and Edie, an elderly couple with a black Doberman Pinscher named Snopper. Bill was a retired cowboy, rodeo rider, and rodeo clown. He was tough as nails, and he and his wife were also some of the sweetest, nicest people I've ever met. They acted like surrogate grandparents to all the kids who lived in the area.
I don't know the stories of the parents who lived in the trailer park. None of us were rich, that was for darned sure. One father was a long-haul trucker. His two oldest sons were close to my age, and we'd sing Juice Newton's "Playing With the Queen of Hearts" while we played made-up games and tussle in the dirt. The young identical twin daughters were just as rough and tumble, and they were always covered in dust and scabs.
Another dad was a drunk and a brute. His daughter Senta was my age. We were best friends until the time I saw her dad get trashed and try to run Bill down with his truck. After that, she wouldn't talk to me anymore. I think she was ashamed of her Dad, and wanted to save face by deciding to hate me. Senta didn't go to school. Senta didn't appear to have much of any sort of education. I felt sorry for her. I think that made her hate me more.
I was also good friends with a boy named Paul. He went to school with me, and I had a little bit of a crush on him. His Mom had remarried, and I guess his stepfather didn't like him much, so they'd frequently lock him out of the trailer, and he'd roam around trying to find someone who'd let him inside to get warm and have something to eat. He spent a lot of time at Bill and Edie's.
There was another family at the far end of the park. I can't remember their names. They had two big Standard Poodles, and three or four kids. The kids kept to themselves, and would have little to do with any of us. I tried to make friends with them many times, but they treated me coolly. My last attempt to make friends with them was terribly transgressive for a Jehovah's Witness kid like me. My elementary school was holding elections, and even though JWs are extremely anti-politics, I thought that if I nominated the oldest girl as student body president, that she might think more kindly of me.
It worked.
She refused the nomination (she was trying to help her friend to become president), but she did thank me for the thought. After that, she and her brothers and sisters got along with me much better...until my parents found out they'd been caught vandalizing heavy machinery in a lot close to the campground. Then I was forbidden to hang out with them.
