Origin of the players in this little tale: My Brother Bud’s third child turned out to be a girl after the first 2 kids were boys, Johnny and Mickey, whom I wrote about a few weeks ago while on one of our vacations at Aunt Mae’s cabin at Big Bear. Their little sister was named Charlyne Melitas, and I can’t figure out why anyone bothered because she has always been called “Sisty” forever and ever. She was born in June 1943. She’s Player No. 1. Now Player No. 2 was born in July of 1944. He was my son (adopted) with name of Gary, and he was always called “Gary.” They were the best of little pals, and in their young days they messed around playing up on the hill in San Juan Capistrano at Aunt Mae’s, and were always warned about where the rattle snakes might be playing. Or they would play over at the ranch across the Valley where Bud and Evelyne lived, and later in Laguna Beach where Gary and I had moved after Aunt Mae had gone on her beeg vacation — she left her Cadillac here on earth for me.
Bud’s ranch was great for their wanderings — there was a big old barn about 300 feet from the old and beautiful 2-story Victorian home built in the late 1800’s. The barn provided quite a haven for their active bodies and brains. It’s fun rustling around in the hay. (I recall some of my days in the hay in that very barn.)
Bud, Evelyne, and I were up at the house shooting the breeze. We had sent the 2 little ones (about 4/5 years old at the time) to go on out and play while we could hear each other think. Perhaps, we had a cocktail, because it was afternoon. This was pre-Tequila days, so maybe it would be a Screwdriver. There were acres and acres of orange trees right outside.
Sisty and Gary were gone for quite a little while, which meant they were having a great time and hadn’t gotten into any scraps — or scrapes. When they finally did come back, they came in through the back porch and kitchen (thank the Lord!) because you would not believe the sight — Ev and I started screeching at top of our lungs: “Stop!!!!! Do not come in here. Get outside RIGHT NOW!” You cannot imagine these two with all the crap and mud and hay in their hair, their clothes their cowboy boots. Even on their smiling little faces — so proud of themselves Muddy stuff everywhere, Oh man! They also stunk to high Heaven.
We put them through the third degree, then went up to the barn to show us what they said had happened. The truth finally surfaced just like the cream from the cow’s milk would surface. All they were doing was playing cowboy. They would climb up on the fence of the little corral at the barn, then hop on the horse —- wait a darn minute — there was no horse in that corral! It was Mama Cow who was hanging out in the corral, and she was most definitely not in a playful mood with those kids jumping from the fence onto her back to get a ride and see how long they could stay on her. This was no rodeo for her. I imagine they were thrown off in a matter of seconds, or the blink of an eye maybe. But you have to hand it to them, they kept right on trying — over and over. They must’ve heard someone say about how if you fail, you must try and try again.
Back up to the house. Bud grabbed the garden hose, and Sisty and Gary were washed down — first with the clothes on, then getting the clothes off — a job nobody wanted, and thank goodness, they were old enough to get the clothes off themselves. Whew! So by now, we had to give up the screwdrivers.
Since Sisty, was the female, and especially being a year older, I would feel that she had led my son down the wrong path. Or — maybe it would not have happened if there had been a restroom provided for Mama Cow.
TODAY, JUNE 10, IS SISTY’S BIRTHDAY. She did not get a terrible disease and croak from the floor of the corral. SO LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE OLD COWGIRL! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AND MANY, MANY MORE. Your old Aunt Mena