Bob Coulson

Aunt Jessie

The following poem was written by my Mother's younger sister around 1922. Jessie was born on a cattle ranch north of Arriba, Colorado. She lived there until she married Ralph Switzer. Soon after, they moved to Modesto, California.

TO PAPA

Dear Daddy, I'm in California - and feeling most awful strange.

I'm full of uneasy emotions - like a motherless calf on the range.

To tell you the truth, dear Daddy - your girl's most decided blue,

while thinking about the ranch - the horses, and of you.

I wonder whatever brought us - to this state of merciless heat,

Where months - not a sprinkle of rain - to settle the dust in the street.

I long for the roar of the thunder - to see the bright lightening flash,

to have rain pour in torrents - with plenty of vigor and dash.

I long for snow storms in winter - the wind piling drifts deep and high,

and for miles of snow covered prairie - beneath a frosty, starlit sky.

For here in the months of winter - are days of unending fog,

and the cold rain, drizzling for days, - would freeze the hair off a dog.

I long for the wide open ranges - with horses and cattle galore,

for here there's a heard of two milk cows - enclosed in a lot two by four.

I'd like a good breakfast of beefsteak - home cooked chicken would do,

for here - it's pears, peaches and berries - figs, grapes and apricot stew.

Some day, when our toils are over - and we're gathered at home up above,

I hope 'twill be like Colorado - the dear old state that I love.

Jessie Lucore Switzer

Concrete Steps

Many of you may have been as perplexed as we, when driving west from Limon, Colorado, and turn left on State Highway 86, Soon, you come upon a huge chunk of concrete, on the left side of the road. That concrete is shaped like steps. The steps don't go anywhere, but rest precariously on the steep edge of a borrow pit.

This article was going to end here, by asking if any of you readers knew what this "stairway to nowhere" was all about.

But, as Paul Harvey would say: "Here's the rest of the story".

I recently met a delightful lady, 86 years young. Edna Wood lives half way between Agate and Simla on a ranch amid the rolling terrain. It is sprinkled with yucca plants, tall prairie grass and small water-filled dams. Her eyes sparkle when she recalls historical events around her native turf.

After taking me on a tour of her home and barn (both of which are constructed of logs), I asked her if she knew anything about these "steps"? Her quick and precise answer was that those steps originally lead to the Peak View schoolhouse, which of course, is no more.

Today, those steps serve a different purpose. They rest there, in complete solitude, displaying the U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey marker.

The Old Building

[Ed. note: Without our memories, some buildings may well be worthless. When paired with a story, many are priceless. Thanks for the memory, Bob!]       

It was just an old brick building on the northwest corner of Speer and Federal in Northwest Denver - probably past the century mark. I doubt if it had any historical value to most people. However, within that building, lots of pleasant events were created.

In September, 1937, I remember my Dad and I going into that building where he purchased a brand new 1937 Ford 1 1/2 ton truck. He used the few hundred dollars which were gleaned out of our recent farm sale. That was a thrilling experience. I remember feeling the smooth royal blue paint, smelling the newness of the interior upholstery, and listening to the quiet, powerful V8 engine pull that big machine off the lot.

Decades later, that building was occupied by another Ford dealer—Hover Motors, Inc. It was then I, who was the buyer of a new Ford truck. An attractive, blue eyed office worker helped me with the paperwork. Later on I worked at Hover's as a salesman. Still later, I left Denver to establish my own business in Phoenix, Arizona. Eventually, I returned to that familiar old building. My purpose on that trip was to remove that smiling, blue eyed lovely, from the building and take her to Phoenix to become my bride. 30 years later, Shirley and I drove by to see the old building, where we had met. We were shocked! Bulldozers had just finished leveling the structure—leaving only piles of dirt as a monument.

Lots of memories flashed through my mind. I doubt if it took very long to demolish that structure, but the memories which began there over the past seven decades, can never be torn apart.

Excerpt from the book, Are You Ready For This?, Bob Coulson, iUniverse, Lincoln, NE, 2006.