A L-Ass-ting Impression

It’s really hard to believe that the hubster (Eric) and I have been together for over 24 years now; six of those years we’ve been officially married. The time has been filled with many wonderful adventures, gained amazing friendships, discovered new adventures together, and endured some not so great times together (f@ck Cancer!). Luckily, we’ve had more positive experiences than the latter. 

On the heels of returning back home to Portland, Oregon, from another Schnell Family reunion, I am reflecting back to the time when I met Eric’s younger brother and mother for the first time. Eric has a large extended family. At a previous family reunion, there were over 150 attendees. The reunion, this time, took place in Redstone, Colorado, and I believe this is my sixth one now. Meeting familial relations isn’t anything new with my past relationships, but none of them ever involved traveling to North Dakota (ND) and South Dakota (SD) and to a five thousand acre cattle ranch. I was still learning about Portland (OR), which was another place I’d never been to before living here. Eric told me about his childhood growing up on the ranch which conjured up images of some version of Bonanza, Little House on the Prairie, and the Andy Griffith Show. What Eric also told me was that we’d be in a rather “conservative” part of the country. Without saying the words exactly, I knew what that meant. There won’t be a lot of Black, or openly Gay people, where we were headed. This was a huge contrast from living in Amsterdam where I was living just a few years prior to moving to Portland, where there were and are gaggles of Gay folks everywhere and a multitude of minorities. 

It wouldn’t be the first time where I’ve gone somewhere and there was no one else (very few) that looked like me. At Mt. Carmel High School in Rancho Penasquitos (suburb of San Diego), there were only a handful of Black students, including me and my older sister Sonya at that time, at this North County institution. 

The date was set, plane tickets purchased, and rental car reserved. In four months time, I would be traveling to Lemmon, SD. 

When the time came, Eric and I flew from Portland to Denver, Colorado where we changed to a smaller plane with twin engines for our leg to Bismarck, ND. Smaller planes make me nervous and you feel every bit of turbulence. With every bump and bounce, my stomach churned. Eric noticed I was a little nervous and gave me a reassuring hand squeeze to calm me. Luckily, the flight lasted only two hours. 

It was chilly when we landed in Bismarck. Luckily, I wore a sweater and had my woolen cap. After we picked up the rental car, we began our three hour drive to the ranch. This was Dakota tribe territory, the place where George A. Custer resided (Ft. Abraham Lincoln State Park), and a place with lots of cattle on the range. 

As Eric grabbed me to check and see if I was unharmed, Carter came riding up to the barn. I told Eric that I was fine, which was an honest but not entirely valid response. I was a little shaken, but thought the experience was more invigorating than terrifying, sort of like skydiving; yes I have done that too. Carter has always been a man of few words and what he said to me as the three of us were regrouping, I will always remember. “You know Judge, your butt didn’t come out of that saddle, not once”. I took his words as a stamp of approval. After we cleaned up the horses, we headed back over to Joan’s place for a hearty evening meal and stories of ranch life. We laughed about my equestrian adventures earlier in the evening. Luckily, things turned out alright. It was now dark outside and a smattering of stars began to pop in the evening sky. Within minutes, the sky became a beautiful celestial tapestry. It had been a while since I had seen so many stars. The stargazing was quickly interrupted by the buzz of tiny nighttime vampires. We quickly returned back inside before becoming human pin-cushions. 

It was time to call it a night. Eric and I were exhausted after a day of traveling. We needed to rest and recharge because when the new day arrived, there would be branches needing to be sawn and other chores Joan would have us do. This wasn’t a vacation, this was a work trip. I didn’t mind. It gave me more time to connect with Eric and learn more about his family, which later included a trip into Lemmon and a tour of places that used to be in this small town. 

When Eric and I arrived at the ranch, Joan (later nicknamed Lady Joan of Lemmon, SD for her Portland visits) came out to greet us. She was the proud mother happy that her eldest son was home again. After Eric introduced me, Joan gave me a welcome hug. I was surprised to see that Eric’s childhood home was so mid-century-modern. I had actually envisioned something more rustic that you’d see in Rancher magazine, rather than on the cover of House Beautiful. After getting our luggage stored away, it was time for a tour and exploration. The house had 4 bedrooms, den, living room, kitchen and family room (2750 sq on the main floor, plus a full basement with a bedroom and storage). Eric explained that his family used to live originally in a sod house. A sod what, I thought to myself? I wasn’t familiar with the term when I first heard it, and had to look it up. Sod a building material that is generally composed of mud and rock when timber is usually scarce.

While Joan was getting supper prepared, Eric and I went across the river to where Eric’s younger brother, Carter, lived. It had been a wet summer and the weeds and grasses were overgrown in all of the pastures. Carter was handsome and almost as tall as Eric. He gave us a tour of his barns and then offered to explore the rest of the ranch by means with more horsepower. I was about to do something that I hadn’t done in a very very long time. I was going horseback riding. Things were going well as we slowly made our way around the place. Carter and Eric spoke with so much pride as they described the area. We rode down by the river and to areas where there were old teepee rings. I even found an old buffalo tooth along the riverbank. We ended up on a ridge overlooking rolling hills, herds of cattle, and horse barn when I unintentionally dropped the reins as I was securing my cap. 

This is when things start to get really interesting. 

As I reached for the reins, I used my legs to keep my balance in the stirrups and in doing so, I squeezed my legs. Unaware that I was signaling this former, now retired, polo horse to move forward into the direction of a barbed wire fence. This action did make me a bit nervous and the horse must have sensed my lack of riding expertise. The horse decided that it had had enough of this greenhorn and wanted to remove me from its back. I still wasn’t able to grab the reins to regain control of my horse so I grabbed the saddle horn (the part of the saddle that sticks up in the front) and held on for the ride of my life. 

I mentioned previously that because of the wet summer, the weeds had grown a lot, and in some places, it was taller than the height of the fences. So in a flash, woosh, off we went galloping back to the barn. I’ve never been on a non-motorized mode of travel that moved so fast. As we traveled through the weeds and grasses, the chill in the air and speed, forced tears out of my eyes. I didn’t have a choice but to hold on as best as I could. If I would have loosened my grip from the saddle horn for a second, I wouldn’t be here today to tell this story. 

For what seemed to be an eternity, we, my horse and I, made it back safely to the barn. I dismounted and tied the horse to the post. In the distance I could hear another horse galloping towards our direction. It was Eric. He had a look of terror, fear, and relief on his face. A look that I’ve only seen one other time in our 24 year history, when I was told that I had cancer more than 10 years ago now. 

I was a bit smitten by the simplicity and personal history Eric and his family shared with this place. We stayed in Lemmon for four days before returning back to Portland. I unintentionally left my mark, or a l-ass-ting impression, in memory with our visit. Though my actions were based entirely in self preservation, it made for a great trip and I’m lucky to be here to tell this tale.   

I’ve been back to the ranch since that first visit so many years ago. On another trip, Joan was having Lemmon’s largest yard sale. Joan had so much stuff, Eric and I literally were shoveling cow crap from a cattle hauler in order to transport Joan’s bounty into town. It was by far the sh@tiest job I’ve ever had. 😃

But, that’s a story I’ll save for another day.