Someone asked me the other day about my first job. They were very impressed with my answer: ranch hand. This was really not such a cool job. I spent most of my time with a wheelbarrow and a shovel. I was fifteen and making $100 a week. I thought I was rich.
French worked there as well and that is where he met April. He'd get to work early and clean up her horse's stall, and wait around to speak (flirt) with her. French mostly stuck to two key jokes. He'd call her Avril and tell everyone that she was French like him...she wasn't. We'd double over laughing when someone would try to start a conversation with her in French. She'd give us all a dirty look and ride off. The second joke was he'd call her April May June. She actually laughed at the one!
A while back we saw this photo online. It was a pic of a barrel racer. She'd just won at a local rodeo. The girl looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. French said: "That is April's daughter". Spitting image, and her mother's horsemanship skills to boot.
8 comments:
What a charming story. Happy Wednesday. Thanks for dropping by my blog today
Much💛love
I loved hearing the personal story!
What a delightful tale! Nice to see the photo, too.
What a glorious account this is with the humour and be present at the scene when reading it.
That job was the last forty-some days in the life of my Army career. Even as an E5, I had a military driver's license and my replacement had come. And the sargent of the desert missle range day center wanted to make a big flower garden given that the nearby farmer had all the horse manure he wanted.
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I sometimes wonder what some of the folks I associated with when I was young are doing these days. It's so cool that her daughter followed in her mom's footsteps.
Love this story, Ollie!
Brother Ollie, that was a sweet charming tale
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