Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Dad and writing

Dad was a laconic writer, so the postcard was an excellent medium for him.

This postcard was mailed from Riverton, Wyoming, on May 30, 1949. Dad had gotten a job running a dragline on a job way out in the middle of nowhere, at a place called Muddy Creek. We lived the summer of 1949 in a M*A*S*H type tent way away from any form of civilization. We kids loved it.

The postcard reads, "Arrived Monday morning 11 AM, sure tired think Ill get a room and let Otto come find me. Seems like a right nice little place haven't seen much of it yet though will write tomorrow Love Jimmie"

1 comment:

Liz Adair said...

This was in the days when long distance phone calls were only made in dire emergencies because they were so expensive.

I remember that summer we lived at Muddy Creek. The tent had running water, I'm pretty sure, though we bathed in a tin tub or went to the community shower house. We found fossils in the shale--scads of them. And there were rattlesnakes in the cracks along the creek bed. Remember when all the fellows got together and pried them off so they fell down in the arroyo? The creek was dry for most of the time, but I remember it running bank to bank after a heavy rain. I remember the muddy, musty smell of it, too. I learned to play poker there, sitting in a sheep wagon with all the kids. Where did that sheep wagon come from?