Boots

When one lives in Iowa, deep in the heart of the Midwest, boots are your friend! And they have been my friend since I was little - when I wore the "over the shoe" models. Those boots were fashioned from a firm rubber. At the top, a small elastic band gathered the boot around your leg.

Sometimes we actually put bread bags on our feet or shoes before inserting them into these boots. I suppose the bags assisted in waterproofing the things. We never wore bags over our shoes...I guess Atlantic kids were smarter than Red Oak kids - understanding that the bags would rip right away...

As the third Bullock child, I wore a number of "hand me down" boots. I remember white boots similar to the ones above. As your feet (and shoes) grew, the boots would start getting tighter and would suck the shoes off when you tried to take the boots off your cold pink feet. There were no good socks back then either.

The other hand-me-down boots I enjoyed were the cowboy boots I wore at Bar-L Ranch each year when I attended summer camp in Guthrie Center. I felt so cool wearing those boots and denim jeans. I was a natural cowgirl I guess! They were perfect for Monday night square dancing - "Heel toe, heel toe slide, slide".

Our boots looked similar to these

 When I grew a little older, Mom broke down and bought winter boots that fit our feet without shoes! Of course then we had to remember to take our shoes along to school. I spent many a day prancing around school in my stocking feet. Can you imagine what my socks looked like after that?

One fashion I never did participate in was the Go-Go boots. (Mom probably wouldn't have allowed it if I had wanted them...or, maybe Betso had some) A new girl moved to town in about 4th grade and she had a pair. I sure remember them. Karen Apple was her name - and in my memory bank she looked like Twiggy in those shiny white boots. Gorgeous!

By my high school years, I was much too cool for boots - except when I was working with my horse Jack when I still relied on my trusty cowboy boots. I had a couple pairs. The suede ones were for everyday and the shiny ones were for horse shoes. I wish I still have both pairs! I swear I saw a pair at a retro store in the East Village that looked just like my shiny pair last year.

Boots are huge now. I love it because they are attractive and warm! I try to avoid buying the cheap knock offs, but I admit to having a few pairs - including my cowboy boots. I feel confident when wearing boots - ready to take on horses, show, bosses. Anything!

at work this week
 

Eventually the boots craze fashion will wear off - but I'll still be wearing them. High stepping!

Bar L Ranch - paradise for kids

I must have been happy to see Betso when they came to pick me up at camp - check out those boots!

I drove through Guthrie Center as I traveled back from Cherokee yesterday. I'd gone there for a work trip. I took I-35 and drove on across Highway 20 on the way to the Cherokee Landfill to talk to the director and a couple other folks about my programs. The trip took longer than the meeting, which went well - they appreciated my visit. Ever the trailbreaker, I took a different route back - heading south on 59 and 71 then to 25. This route took me by a place I spent many a happy hour in my youth - Bar-L Ranch just south of Guthrie Center.

Bar-L Ranch was the summer camp of choice for many families from my hometown of Atlantic - some 45 miles from Guthrie Center. Bar-L was a horse ranch and you know how girls love horses. I was crazy about horses from an early age. Today the place looks rather shabby.

My sisters Susan and Cindy blazed the trail to Bar-L before me. I remember going along in the car to drop them off at camp before it was my turn to go. We'd watch them get assigned their horses and ride off into the sunset (or at least the show ring). It was so exciting - I couldn't wait for my turn! Dad took home movies of Cindy stepping into the saddle stirrup on one pony, stepping up with the wrong foot. You can see on the video that she realizes she's going to be pointing backwards. Funny! Ah, the stuff of America's Best Videos.

The year I turned 7, it was finally my turn! I got to go to camp with Cindy, who by then was a camp veteran at age 11, all-knowing of saddles and bits. Bar-L was run by the Luckinbill family - patriarch Harold, in my young viewpoint was a large man with a large voice. He terrified me! The girls bunkhouse was located above the mess area, with the bathroom below. We all stayed in bunk beds. It was all very big stuff for a youngster. I'd never been away from home for a week.

We arrived at camp on Sunday afternoon and were assigned our ponies as our parents looked on. I imagine my mother on that Sunday - giving me a hug and leaving me that Sunday - with tears in her eyes. No - not from sadness. She was likely giddy, thinking "a week with 2 less children!"

That first year I was the smallest kid and got one of the smallest ponies - a black one whose name escapes me now. When we did trail rides, my little black pony and I were at the end of the line. The camp counselors saddled them up the horses and ponies every morning while we dined on pancakes and sausage. Then we were supposed to help get the bit into our horse's mouth. Some of them were pretty good at gritting their teeth! and away we'd go.

I remember being intimidated by the shower room. There were big girls with boobs in there! So I can't imagine I took many showers that week - but hey we did go swimming a couple times, perhaps that helped me avoid stiff hair and smelly body. No - Bar-L didn't have a pool. We'd take the bus into town and swim at the Guthrie City Pool. After breakfast each day, we'd go for a trail ride, and if I was lucky we'd get to canter in a circle at the top of one hill. That was like getting to ride the roller coaster for me - such a thrill!

Afternoons at camp were spent doing crafts like plastic lanyard weaving, leather key rings and making clay ashtrays out of various materials. Early in the week we did a stint of square dancing - I still know a few beats, heel toe, heel toe, slide slide. I was too young to have sweaty palms about the whole deal. Plus there were few boys - so we all just danced together. I was so concerned about sitting by Cindy at mealtime that I budged in line I got a swat on the butt by Harold for my efforts. Can you imagine that happening at a camp today?

One night we got to ride our horses bareback! Wow, that was way different than riding with a western saddle. One must really squeeze with one's thighs to stay on a horse when there isn't a saddle to help!

A couple years when I was at Bar-L I got to go to "swing land". In my memory, this was one of the biggest thrills of my life, the night at the bag swing camp. That was an area outside Guthrie where seed corn bags stuffed with something were strung on long ropes from trees. There were cliff and ladder launch swings. Some seemed treacherous to get to - so to get up the courage to "do that swing" earned you some kudos. It was a blast to conquer those bags. Better than Disneyland any day!

At the end of the week, we Catholics were forced to get up, don doilies on our heads and go to church in town. How I longed to be a Protestant on that day. Character building I'm sure. Then our parents would come to get us after lunch. I attended Bar-L for 4 years. The last year I went with several Atlantic girls, including Sally, Barbie Gee and Barb Hutchinson. We had fun on a snipe hunt, ate Smores and carved our names into the sandy rock above the camp. I'm sad to see the place looking so bedraggled - especially the sagging barn.

My little piece of Americana. Carry on campers. One day, some twenty something years later, I got to take my darlin' girl Amy and niece Leslie to Bar L to spend a week. The circle of life!

Camp

I'm a little senile, so if I already wrote about this, a thousand pardons. I could look back to see. But why, when it will give me so much joy to write about it?

My first camp was Bar-L Ranch in Guthrie Center. It was the camp of choice for folks from Atlantic, along with Camp Foster, which was the YMCA camp at Okoboji I believe. Bar-L was a horse ranch and I was crazy about horses from an early age.

My sisters went to Bar-L before me, so I remember riding along to drop them off, and getting a ride on their horses. What a thrill. We have home movies of Cindy trying to get on one pony, putting the wrong foot in the stirrup - very confusing for a young kid trying to figure out why she was going to end up sitting backwards on the horse. Ah, the stuff of America's Best Videos.

The year I turned 7, I got to go to camp with Cindy, who by then was a camp veteran at age 11, all knowing of saddles and such. Bar L was run by the Luckinbill family - Harold, who seemed to me to be a large man with a large voice. He was boss. The girls bunkhouse was located above the mess area, with the bathroom below. We all stayed in bunk beds. It was all very big stuff for a youngster.

The first day, Sunday when we got there, we were assigned our ponies. I was the smallest kid, and got one of the smallest ponies - a black one whose name escapes me now. The camp counselors would saddles them up and we would help get the bit in their mouths and away we'd go. I imagine my mother giddy, tears in her eyes thinking "a week with 2 less children!"

Each day would start out with a big breakfast of pancakes and the like. I can't imagine I took many showers that week, but we did go swimming a couple times, perhaps that helped me avoid stiff hair and smelly body. After breakfast, we'd go for a trail ride, and if I was lucky we'd get to canter in a circle at the top of one hill. I was in the group with the smallest ponies.

In the afternoons we did crafts like weaving plastic lanyards, punching leather key rings and making clay ashtrays. Early in the week we did a stint of square dancing - I still know a few beats, heel toe, heel toe. slide slide. I was too young to have sweaty palms about the whole deal. Though I was concerned about sitting by Cindy at mealtime, and when I budged in line I got a swat on the butt by Harold.

One night we got to ride our horses bareback! Wow, that was way different than riding with a western saddle. That ranked right up there with one of the biggest thrills of my life, the night at the bag swing camp. That was an area outside Guthrie where seed corn bags were strung on long ropes from trees. There were cliff and ladder launch areas. It was a thrill and a blast to conquer those bags. Better than Disneyland any day!

At the end of the week, we Catholics were forced to get up, don doilies on our heads and go to church in town. How I longed to be a Protestant on that day. Character building I'm sure. Then our parents would come to get us after lunch. I attended Bar-L some 4 years. One year I went with several Atlantic girls, including Sally, Barbie Gee and Barb Hutchinson. We had fun on a snipe hunt, at Smores and carved our names into the sandy rock above the camp.

My little piece of Americana. Carry on campers. One day, some twenty something years later, I got to take my darlin' girl Amy and niece Leslie to Bar L to spend a week. The circle of life!