The Terrible Good Old Days

The Terrible Good Old Days

Suzanne Marsh

“Oh, for the good old days, when things were not as complicated.”

I was all for living in the past, it had to be better than 2020. My dream was to restore the Chatsworth Ranch, just outside of Belton, Texas. We had moved to what had once been a cow pasture, that was where our home was. Dad, always chuckled when I would mention the good old days. I thought it would be easy without electricity, cell phones, pollution, no traffic, just horses. All the things we face today in 2020. Dad, decided it was time that I discovered what the good old days were actually like. I had visions of cattle drives, shootouts, the hero riding in on a white horse. My education was about to begin:

“You, want to make a wager? I will help purchase the old Chatsworth Ranch, but first

you spend a month up in the old line shack. You remember where we camped that time?”

“Yeah sure I do Pop. That is going to be like taking candy from a baby.”

“Remember one month.”

I was so excited, about this. I ran upstairs, and began to make a list of what I would need. My list was long and varied:

food kerosene and kerosene lamps

the station wagon shot gun and .22 rifle

camping utensils

sleeping bag

pillow

matches

clothes

coffee

boots

That seemed to cover everything I could think of. I went to Dad's office:

“Dad, can I have the keys to the station wagon so I can haul everything up to the line

shack.”

“Sure, but if you use the station wagon, you lose the bet.”

“Dad”, I pleaded.

“You can use Old George”

“The mule?”

“Saddle, Toni, he is used to working with George.”

“Dad, you want to use a horse and mule, I need music.”

“Hum”

This was not what I had expected. So much for using the station wagon. I was determined to win the bet. The Chatsworth Ranch was within my grasp. I was not about to lose this opportunity. I went out to barn. I attempted to lead Old George out. Mules are rather odd creatures, if they don't want to move they will not. George, had no intention of leaving his nice comfy stall. I had every intention of his coming with me. Thus began the tug of war, me against the mule.” Old George began he hawing at the top of his longs, that caused Dad to come out of the house:

“what are you trying to do?”

“trying to get old George out of the barn.”

“He isn't going to come out unless you back him out.”

I tried it Dad's way and finally Old George reluctantly left the barn. Dad, got the packs secure on old George while I saddled Toni, that would be the easiest thing I would do the entire month of the bet.

Once Toni began to walk, Old George clomped along with my leading. I am not quite sure how Old George ended up leading Toni and I but we were back home again, Old George heading back to the barn. I turned Toni, grabbed the lead once again we set out of the line shack. Once I arrived at the line shack, I opened the door. There was an old wooden table, one chair, no lights, no nothing. I have no doubt that Dad was having a good laugh out of this. Well I would show him, I was going to stick it out. I began unpacking Old George's packs. I would have be sure that old mule was tied up well. I did not want him to make another trip to the barn. I ushered both animals into a small lean to that must have been there when men actually used the shack. I had both side packs off Old George and into the line shack. There was no place to put the food, except an old wood shelf that appeared to go the full length of the shack. I began to put away the food I had brought. Then I carried in my sleeping bag and pillow. Books and the kerosene lanterns were the last to come in. Finally, I sat down on the chair, this was not designed for comfort. I sat there for several minutes staring at the old potbelly stove, it was the only heat in the shack, even worse it was the only place to cook anything. I am not a very good cook, this was going to be a real challenge.

I left the shack in search of twigs and such to start the stove, I had a vision of blueberry pancakes. My vision soon turned out to be a nightmare! I started the fire in the old stove when suddenly the entire shack filled with smoke, then the light bulb moment came: I forgot to open the flew. By the time the shack cleared from the smoke. I settled for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I thought: what I would not give for an electric stove. That being said, it was time to settle in for the night. The kerosene lamp gave some light but nothing like the lights down in the civilized land. I read for a short while, then began to ready myself for bed.

I brushed my teeth, only to discover that there was no running water, I just hoped I could prime the pump. Oh for running tap water! I got the pump going finally. I stood staring out the only window in the shack. The stars glowed brightly, a paper moon hung in the sky. Now this was living, no worries, just me and Mother Nature. That was until the coyotes began their howling, there is nothing quiet about a coyote, believe me. I awoke when I heard two racoons chattering in the shack. I got up from the bunk bed, promptly tripping over my boots. That scared the racoons as they scampered toward the window. I would fix that problem in the morning, I would put bars in the windows with small logs. I stumbled back to bed. A few hours later, a horrible smell awoke me. It had to be a skunk, the question was where was it? Sure enough, I found it after stumbling around the shack to light the lamp. There before me stood the skunk, it turned and sprayed. This was not my idea of fun to say the very least. The following morning, I mixed the blueberries with a pancake mix. That was the only thing I brought that Dad did not know about. I had to eat.

The next few days were an adventure. A big black bear walked up to the shack door, for whatever reason it left without causing problems. I took Toni for a ride, upon my return I was greeted by a Western Diamond Back Rattle Snake, it was sunning itself in front of the door to the shack. My problem was, how to get it to leave without it striking me. That was a test of ingenuity if ever there was one. I had left the .22 rifle in the shack. I decided to wait it out, I rode Toni for several hours, hoping that the snake would leave. It finally did, just in time for dinner. I unsaddled Toni, put her back in the lean to and headed inside. The racoons had returned, now I would have to go hunting since they had ripped open the bag of flour. I had beef jerky that night.

After all my trials and tribulations, Dad rode up to the line shack with flour, eggs, bacon, all the things I needed to finish my month here in the line shack. I was really proud of myself that I had survived twenty seven days...three more to go but who's counting? Dad, by now had resigned himself to loosing the bet, so the last three days were easy.

When I returned home with Old George and Toni, I realized that there was a lesson in this. The horrible good old days really were horrible. I headed up stairs for a hot shower, I needed to clean up before I set foot down stairs again. Dad, had taken care of the horse and mule, he told me to take a shower.

I own the Chatsworth Ranch, however it has all the modern conveniences. Electricity, indoor plumbing and most importantly a stove and fridge. I would not wish to repeat my adventures up at the line shack, especially the encounter with the rattler. I don't think that living in the past is a good idea, I do think we learn from our mistakes.