Sam Konkel: The Writer

Sam Konkel was the editor of one of the two Boston Colorado Newspapers, The Boston World (1886-1889) and later the Springfield Herald /Springfield Democrat Herald (1913-1930).  It was in 1918 -1919 during this time in Springfield where he relived and wrote during the stories of his time in Boston, which we used as the foundation for our book “Old Boston”.   When he wrote, he often signed the column with the moniker, “The Writer.”

We have used Konkel’s content in many ways the past few years, even adapting his salutatory address from when he purchased the Springfield Herald in 1913 to our Salutatory when we purchased the Herald in 2019.  

In the years following Boston, Sam and his brother Joe moved on to Lyons, Kansas and ran the Lyons Democrat for a couple years.  It was was after the Lyons years that 

Konkel was a very prolific writer, but during the decade of the 1890s you do not find much of his work in the various newspaper databases.  It was during this time he was back east, found his bride and for a time was teaching school. 

However, when he moved back to Eagle Ranch in Southeast Colorado he began to write again. From about 1906 until 1913 when he bought the Springfield Herald, Sam Konkel wrote extensively about farming in the west. 

There is an interesting reference to a December 1913 article Sam wrote for Farm & Fireside magazine.   Farm & Fireside was a semi-monthly national farming magazine that was established in 1877 and was published until 1939. It was based in Springfield, Ohio.  Again this is a reference to the article.  I have searched eBay, Amazon and a few other sources  for a copy of the original 1913 issue, but have not been able to obtain it thus far.

It was the original magazine for what eventually became the Crowell-Collier Publishing Company.  From 1918 to 1923 several of the covers of this magazine were illustrated by Norman Rockwell. 

In February 1930, it was renamed The Country Home in an attempt to compete with Better Homes and Gardens.

The Leader-Democrat (Richfield, Kansas) · 28 Aug 1886, Sat · Page 3
The Leader-Democrat (Richfield, Kansas) · 04 Sep 1886, Sat · Page 3
The Leader-Democrat (Richfield, Kansas) · 23 Oct 1886, Sat · Page 3

Much of Konkel’s writing 1906 – 1913 is dedicated to observing farming endeavors in Southeast Colorado, asking questions about growing certain types of plants/crops  as well as tips and tricks for the farm. Much of the work was originally published in either the Kansas Farmer and Mail and Breeze or the Missouri Valley Farmer.  It was then republished elsewhere, usually smaller papers in Kansas, however,  some of the articles were printed far and wide across the country.  There is even one instance where he was quoted in the Chicago Tribune. 

Over time we have continued to collect Konkel’s work.  His writing provides unique insight to the people, nature, climate, crops, and farming methods in early Baca County.  It indeed tells the story of pre-county and early day Baca County.  Some of our upcoming research and stories will utilize some of this content and will be presented in the pages of the print Herald and behind the paywall of the online PlainsmanHerald.com, while other pieces will be pushed out via Baca County History.com and our social media platforms.  

Check out this announcement on PlainsmanHerald.com to learn more of our 2022 history projects.

Missouri Valley Farmer (Atchison, Kansas) · 1 Aug 1906, Wed · Page 3

To the right is an example of Konkel’s work during this time. There is much much more like this.

Since we are writing about Sam, we might as well use one of his closings… Right at this point we find we have “overdrawn” on our space account, so we will squirt some embalming fluid into the rest of the yarn to keep it from spoiling, and will give it to you the next time.  

Crop Prospects for Southeast Colorado in 1888

PERSONS Stories and Incidents of the Early Day East Enders

Before Baca County became a county in the spring of 1889 it was the eastern end of Las Animas county. As spring is upon us, I thought it might be good to look back at the crop prospects in Southeast Colorado in 1888.  The following  report comes from the The Daily Sentinel (Garden City, Kansas) · 28 Feb 1888.  I have included the towns from  what is present day Baca County and the areas surrounding Baca County including Old Bent County.  If you want to see where many of these towns were located, check out Boomtown Maps. There were many more Kansas listings, but we have chosen those most relevant to the history of Baca County.  If space allows we may present Kansas locations in the future.

Springfield and Vilas were in Old Las Animas County when this was printed.

Brookfield was in the Northwestern part of what is present day Baca County

Troy and Indianapolis were near present day Kim, Colorado. I am still unsure of the location of Alfalfa. If anyone has any clues, let me know.

The following are from Old Bent County which was broken up in the 1889 legislature.

Wilde was just west of Two Buttes mountain in present day Prowers Count. For more on Wilde check out my blog Wilde, Colorado: Colonel York, The Bloody Benders and West Point

Growing Up in Baca County, Episode #5b John Havens

 As the dust storms increased many of the farm families and a few of the town residents had to pull up stakes and look for greener pastures.  As a kid working around the service station I observed first hand family after family load all their belongings into cars and onto pickups and head out to find new homes.

A Colorized version of a 1930’s Baca County Dust Storm

   Even these many years later I remember three families who moved to southern Louisiana.  At least three families moved to Idaho, some to Oregon, some to California.  Several families moved to western Colorado, others to the Canon City/Penrose area.  It was not quite like a scene from Grapes of Wrath, but the Vilas community suffered the loss of many fine families.

   For those who stayed, times were hard.  Many farmers found work with the WPA, building bridges, roads and public buildings.  They would plant crops only to have them wiped out by the dust storms.  Then there were plagues of grasshoppers and the increase of jack rabbits.  Those critters increased in population until the famers had to organize rabbit roundup to reduce the population.  On one occasion Army Worms invaded an area near Vilas.  They stripped every garden as they moved from South to North for several miles.

   It was unbelievable how the dust swirled around houses and barns and drifted much like snow.  Farmers had to shovel the snow (dust) away from their front doors to gain entrance.

   There was one crop that seemed to thrive quite well during those days and that was broomcorn.  Tons of it was raised in Baca County, and if my memory serves me right, the town of Walsh became known as the Broomcorn Capital.

   But raising this crop was not easy.  It was strictly a dryland, crop and farmers spent long hours in planting it, weeding it, and then harvesting it.  Since no machine has been invented to cut the crop, it had to be harvested by hand.  Broomcorn cutters came from eastern Oklahoma, Western Arkansas, Southwest Missouri and other areas to cut broomcorn in the Fall of the year.

   One farm couple I was personally acquainted with hired 8 to 12 men during broomcorn harvest.  This couple had to get up by 5 a.m. and have breakfast ready for these men. They turned their double garage into a cook shack during this time.  They served bountiful meals, prepared lunches for the men to eat in the field, and another wellcooked evening meal in the cook shack.

   Since they no longer had livestock, they turned their barn loft into sleeping quarters, and the men ascended by ladder to their beds.  This had been their accommodations for several years, and no one had complained.  Then the Government stepped in and told this farm couple they had to have a stairway to the loft.  They complied with the order, and the first year of harvest one of the hands fell down the stairs and broke his leg, and the farmer had to pay the medical expense.  Also, the government said they had to have outhouse facilities at the end of so many rows of broomcorn.  The farmer decided there was getting to be too many rules and regulations, so they quit raising broomcorn.

(A comment by Kathy)

I know we have to have rules, but sometimes the rules cause more harm than good.  These men were out of work, the farmer out of income, and the community had one less industry.

    The WPA was a worthwhile program and saved a lot of people from starving and gave people a pride in earning a living for their family.  Today we are still enjoying some of the great buildings, bridges, and monuments that these people built.

Growing up in Baca County Episode 10 By John Havens

    On Saturday afternoons and evenings there was usually a little more activity in Vilas than other times, unless there was a ball game going on out of town.

Tony’s Market by Lucille Homsher

     Farmers would come to town and bring their cans of cream to leave at Tony’s Market and to stock up on groceries for the coming week.  Many would hang around just to visit with their neighbors.  One couple who had a pet dog named Wanda would park in front of Terrill’s Drug Store, go in and buy one ice cream cone then sit in the front seat of their car and all three share the cone.

    But Saturday nights was when Western pictures were shown at the theater in Springfield.  Before I was old enough to be of help around the service station I would often be invited to go to the picture show with some family who was going.  Nothing was more exciting than to sit down front with a whole gang of kids and yell at the cowboys and Indians.  There was Hop-Along- Cassidy,  Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, and others, who were our heroes.

     After I was in my teens Dad expected me to help wait on customers at the station.  I enjoyed meeting new people and made many friends.  I guess I was somewhat like Will Rogers who once said, “I never met a man I didn’t like.”  Even in Vilas there were the occasional visitors who were just passing through on their way East to Kansas or West to the mountains.

    During broomcorn harvest in the Fall of the year there was a lot more activity in Vilas.  Broomcorn Cutters came from Eastern Oklahoma, Southwest Missouri, Arkansas, and other places.  Some became residents of Baca County.  Some who came were Indians, some were Mexicans, but all came to work.

    One Saturday evening a car pulled into the station and they were Black people.  I had seen a few Black people, but had never been around any of them.  In fact, I don’t believe there were any Black people in or near Vilas.  I soon got acquainted with the drier and we had a great time visiting.  The next Saturday, they were back again, and Dad started to wait on them, but the driver wanted to know where I was.  He told Dad he wanted me to wait on them.  My nickname was a child was ‘Junior’, and he told Dad, “I want Junah to wait on me.”  So, dad called me over to the car and I gave that fellow full service.  This continued through the next few times they came in.

     I never asked where these folks were from and if I found out their names, I failed to remember.  But I never met them again.  I graduated from high school, served my two years in the Army, went to college and graduated, and after pastoring a church in Miami, Oklahoma I became pastor of a rural church out of Hugoton, Kansas.  I moved my family from a city of 12,000 to a church 13 miles SE of Hugoton.  What a change!  In order to supplement my income, I went to work for IGA Grocery Store in Hugoton.  One day a Black man came in to the store, very frail, having only one arm, and could hardly walk.  As I looked at him I wondered where I had seen him before.  That night it dawned on me that he was the Black man I had waited on as a teenager back in Vilas.  A few days later he came in to the store again and I asked him if he had ever cut broomcorn near Vilas years ago.  He responded that he had.  I said, “Do you remember a teenage kid who waited on you at the service station?”  He looked at me and said, “Junah, is that you?”  What a visit we had after more than 16 years.

Growing up in Baca County by John Havens. Episode 9 part 2

   Dad and Uncle Tony always looked forward to a reunion at the Boise City Cemetery of the Havens and Snodgrass clan.  Then we went from Boise city to Guymon to place flowers on the grave of the 13 year old sister of my Dad’s and Uncle Tony.  She had died during the year the family had spent there.  Our Memorial Day trip brought us home by way of Elkhart.  In all my years of growing up I don’t recall we ever missed that trip.

   One Summer I got a job driving a gas delivery truck for Obed Hancock.  This gave me the opportunity to get acquainted with many farmers South of Walsh and Vilas.

    I shall never forget delivering gas to one farm where the farmer’s wife came out to where I was filling the barrels.  I had known this older couple many years.  She wanted to know if I would like a piece of fresh baked gooseberry pie.  Boy, that sounded good.  So she returned to the house and brought the pie out to me.  It looked so delicious and I could hardly wait to dig into it, but I took one bite and she noticed the expression on my face, then she said,  “O good Lord, I forgot to put any sugar in it.”  I shall never forget that experience.

   On one occasion while refilling my delivery truck with gas I heard someone yelling and screaming.  I soon discovered there was an elderly bachelor living in a small shack near the gas depot.  I went in to try and help him.  He had fallen and was unable to get up.  There were baby chickens running all over the floor and the stench was almost overwhelming.  I got him p and somehow got someone to come and care for him. I don’t know how the man could live in such unsanitary conditions.

   One last memory I will share was an experience that happened in 1940 when I was 14 years old. My Mother became one of the Census Takers for Baca County.  Her territory covered Vilas and much of the area South and West.  Since she would be driving on back country roads I persuaded her to let me go along and drive, since I was just beginning to drive at that age.  I learned where many people lived who came to Vilas to trade at Tony’s Market or Dad’s Service Station.

    After finishing her work in Vilas, we then went to Campo the Richards and Mt. Carmel Communities.  Even as a teenager it made me realize how many miles these people had to drive to get groceries, and even farther to see a Doctor in Springfield.  We didn’t have much in Vilas, but only a stone’s throw to a café or to get groceries, and just 10 miles to a doctor.  We take so many things for granted and forget to count our blessings.

   Memories keep flooding my mind of those days of Growing Up in Baca County.  The days of delivering papers, the Denver Post and the Grit, to homes in Vilas.  When every kid in town got together and played games all over town on a Summer evening.  The Butlers, the Walkers, the Williams, the Gordons and myself.  Then there was the Women’s softball Team, and in the Winter the Town Basket Ball Team. 

We can’t go back to the good old days, but how good it is to remember the experiences and our friends of the past who helped make life better for all of us.             John Havens,   age 90

Pratt, Kansas.

Growing up in Baca County Part 8b – By John Havens

In January 1947 I married my high school sweetheart, Marie Konkel, in the Vilas Friends Church.  We then moved to Haviland, Kansas where I completed four years of education at Friends Bible College.

    During the years of my ministry I have served churches in Kansas, Oklahoma, and Iowa, then in 1993 I became Chaplain of the Pratt Regional Medical Center in Pratt, Kansas.  But even now at the age of 90 I continue to teach an adult Sunday School class.

    During the years of my ministry I have been invited back to Baca County to officiate at almost fifty funerals of friends and relatives.  I am grateful for the confidence these families have had in me.  Someone once said that it takes a village to raise a child.  I think that village was Vilas and I was that child.  Many of those funerals were of people who influenced my life while growing up.

    In my times of reminiscing I go back and take a stroll down the main street of my old home town.  West of the highway there was the school and several homes, but turning to the East, there was Tony’s Market with my Uncle Tony and Aunt Ruth.  Next was Terril’s Drug Store run by Homer and Tess Terril.  On the corner was the Capansky home with Grandma and her daughter, and the sons: Abel, Andy and Bert, and a grandson, Earl.  Across the street was the home of Roy Blanche Hagerman and daughter Ruby.  Roy was the village Blacksmith, and also a Quaker Preacher.  To the East of their house was the blacksmith shop.

    To the East of that was the Post Office with Jim Hutson as the Postmaster.  The Hutson family were faithful members of the Friends Church.  One of their daughters, Ella Ruth, became a missionary to China and later Taiwan.  One of the sons, Robert. Became a Friends Minister.

    The Hutsons moved to Las Animas, CO and I believe Minnie Jackson became the Postmistress.

    Just to the East of the Post Office was a small Barber Shop operated by Wal Dishman.  Then on East was the Christie Building and I believe the Paytons operated some kind of a store there, and following them was the Doc Greenstreet Family.

    Two of the Nixon Brothers, Carl and Ray built a service station on the corner.  Across the street East of the station was the Nixon Grocery Store.  Anna, one of the daughters of the Nikons became a Friends Missionary and felt the call to go to India.  On her first trip during World War II, the ship she was on was captured by the Japanese in the Philippines and she spent 4 years in a prison camp.

     She was released and returned home, and after regaining her health, she once again sailed for India where she spent fourty years.  Meanwhile, the Nixon family sold their store and moved to Western Colorado.

    I believe this pretty much describes the businesses on the South side of the Main Street in Vilas as I remember them.

Growing Up In Baca County Part 8 By John Havens

Even though I have spent over 60 years in the ministry, there was little or no place for any church in my early childhood.  It wasn’t until we moved from the farm into Vilas that religion played any part in our family life.

   When I was 10 or 12 years of age there was a Friends preacher by the name of Jim Fisk who lived in Vilas.  I first remember him when he was preaching on Sunday mornings at a country school Southwest of Vilas.  He drove a big car with a rumble seat, and on Sundays he and his wife would come to the station to fill up with gas, and he would ask me if I would like to go to Sunday School with them, and if so, I could ride in the rumble seat.  Wow!  To me that was enticement enough to want to go with them.  My parents gave their consent, so I went several times with the Fisks. 

    The Friends Church (Quaker), was the only church in Vilas, and was located on the opposite corner of the block from the station.  Quakers from Kansas had come to Baca County in the nineteen Twenties and Thirties and were instrumental in establishing churches in Vilas, Walsh, Springfield, and Andrix, West of Pritchett.

    I began attending Sunday School mostly through the influence of Mrs. Bill McClintock.  Opal (Cope) Rutherford was one of my Sunday school teachers.  I continued to attend Sunday School and Church service even though my parents seldom attended.

    On 1040 my Mother became a Christian, and in 1944 I surrendered my life to Christ as did my Dad.  From then on much of our lives were centered around the Church.

    In August of 1944 a group of us young people from Vilas and Walsh attended a Camp Meeting near Imperial, Nebraska.  It was there that I felt God’s call to the ministry and from then on I put forth every effort to prepare for that calling.  I owe a great deal to my Pastor at that time, John Oliver, who had a guiding influence in my life. 

    I enrolled at Friends University in Wichita  in the Fall of 1944, but within six weeks I received greetings from Uncle Sam who said there was a war going on and he needed me to come for an all expenses paid trip.

    I well remember December 7, 1941 when on a Sunday afternoon I was listening to one of my favorite radio programs, and the announcer interrupted the program to announce that the Japanese had bombed a place called Pearl Harbor.  I resented my program being interrupted to tell about a place I had never heard of.  Little did I realize that four years later I would be one of the thousands called to serve our country.  I answered that call.  I completed 13 weeks of Infantry training at Camp Wolters, Texas, then was transferred to Ft. Lewis, Washington to complete about that many weeks of training in the Medical Corps.

    By this time Iwo Jima and Okinawa had been taken by our troops and next on the list was the invasion of Japan.  That was to be our assignment following a furlough home.  But the atomic bomb was dropped on Japan resulting in their surrender.

    However, the assignment of our outfit was still on, only altered, and we sound up on the Island of Saipan where I served the next 10 months.  After fulfilling my duties I received an honorable discharge from the military in October of 1946.

Growing up in Baca County Part 7 By John Havens

 I read once of a tourist who was traveling through the country and realizing he needed gas he stopped at a very small village to fill up with gas.  While the station attendant was filling the car, the tourist noticed there was very little activity going on.  Finally, he said to the old gentleman, “Tell me, Old Timer, what do you do around here for excitement?”  The old Timer thought for a minute and then said, “Well, I don’t rightly know. I ain’t never been excited.”

 Perhaps that village was Vilas, because there was seldom anything exciting happening.  Oh, there was that Saturday morning when the church bell started ringing.  That never happened except on Sundays.  So what was going on?  Was there a fire in town or some crisis?  Finally, someone went to the parsonage to find out.  Now, since the church did not have a resident Pastor, they had allowed a man known as Uncle Dick to live in the parsonage with the agreement that he do the janitor work and ring the church bell on Sundays.  When asked why he had rang the bell, he replied that he always did on Sundays, then he was informed that it was Saturday.  Seems he had gotten his days mixed up.  So, everyone settled back into daily routine.

    There was one summer when the merchants of Vilas decided to have Saturday afternoon drawings and give away gifts and cash to those with winning numbers.  Now that brought a crowd into Vilas, and that was exciting.

   Then there was the annual Amateur Program and box supper.  It was amazing how the wives and girlfriends could take a box, transform it into a thing of beauty, fill it with delicious food and expect the husbands and boyfriends to spend their hard earned money to buy it.  But that was the object of a box supper.  I bid on a box that I know belonged to a pretty girl, but I was outbid and had to settle for a box that belonged to a less popular girl, but her food, and the pie sure was good.

    The Amateur Program was made up of local talent, mostly musical numbers.  I was asked to sing that western song, Strawberry Roan and use the name of Mr. Pritchard in it.  Mr. Pritchard was a local rancher.  He and his wife built a Spanish style house in Vilas, and had the word HACIENDA written above the front door.  I sang the song as requested and Mr. Pritchard seemed pleased that he would be so honored.

   What else for excitement?  Well, there was the occasional Shivaree.  Do communities still have these?  It is when several in the community gather at the home of a newlywed couple to celebrate the marriage by making the groom push the bride in a wheelbarrow down the street, or on some occasions dunk the groom in a pond or horse tank.  But then the couple was supposed to reciprocate by handing out treats to everyone, usually cigars and candy. 

(Next week see what excitement happened in one such Shivaree…..it wasn’t pretty!!)

Growing Up in Baca County Episode 6, Part 1 by John Havens

Note this episode references Fred Holister. More on Fred Click Here: Fred Holister: A Cowboy’s Story

Many older people of the Vilas Community made an impression on my life. Some were school teachers, some were business men, others were preachers, farmers, and retired folks.

   But one I would like to mention especially was Uncle Fred. Fred was an old Cowboy. He and his wife Fannie lived on a small “ranch” about 5 miles Southeast of Vilas. As Uncle Fred go older, and was no longer able to work, he would often drive into Vilas in his Model A Ford, park it half-way out in the main street, then get out and amble over to our service station to spend the afternoon spinning yarns.

   He love to tell of his days as a Cowboy when he rode the range from central Texas to Montana. He had worked on a number of big ranches, participated in cattle drives, and took part in roundups.

   But one of the stories I remember him telling had to do with the time in Baca County when the citizens voted to make Springfield the County Seat. But rather than build a court house, a building that would serve that purpose was purchased from the town of Boston. Now Boston was a town some 12 miles Southeast of Vilas, and at one time was a thriving community long before I was born. Today there is not a sign of a town ever having been there. Only the Boston Cemetery gives evidence of its existence.

   Anyway, according to Uncle Fred, the building was being moved across country to Springfield. They got as far as the Sand-Arroya, where they camped for the night, but in the middle of the night, members of the opposition party came riding in on their horses, set fire to the building, burning it to the ground.

   I remember Uncle Fred telling that story many times and I also remember that several who heard that story wondered if Uncle Fred might have been in the party that set the fire. I guess we will never know.

   But my story about Uncle Fred doesn’t end there. He and his wife moved into an apartment in Vilas in their last years, but when he was able he still came to our station.

   I graduated from high school, spent two years in the Army, came back to Vilas, married, and went away to Bible College to prepare for the ministry.

   During the summer, after two years of college, we returned to Vilas. During that summer Uncle Fred died, and the family requested that I have his funeral, and not only have the service, but also sing that old Western song, “I’m Headin’ For the Last Roundup,” which was a very appropriate song. However, since this was only my second funeral and I was not yet into full-time ministry, I asked if I might get someone to assist me. The family told me to handle it however I wanted, so the next day I drove out into a wheat field Northwest of Walsh and got Clarence Kearns, a Friends minister, who was in the area helping with the harvest, off of the combine and asked him to assist me. He had met Uncle Fred a few times, so he was not a stranger to him.

   Clarence and I had the funeral and I sang the song they requested, and Uncle Fred was laid to rest in the Boston Cemetery.

Note this episode references Fred Holister. More on Fred Click Here: Fred Holister: A Cowboy’s Story

Growing up in Baca County #5 By John Havens

As a teenager working around my Dad’s service station there was always something going on to make a good story.  One has to do with a fellow named Bob, who was known, for a time, as the Broomcorn King of Baca County.

   One would never guess that Bob was a prosperous farmer.  He raised many acres of broomcorn and employed many men during the Fall harvest.  But when he came into Vilas he seldom took time to shave.  He dressed like a bum, with dirty, grease-covered overalls, a sloppy looking hat, and calloused hands that revealed hard work.

    On this one day I recall, Bob drove into town in a brand new Chrysler.  He parked it out of sight behind our station, then came around front to join other men who were often there shooting the breeze.  About the same time, a couple drove up to our station for gas.  They too had a new car and were dressed, as we would say, “like city folks.”

   While I waited on this couple, Bob ambled over to their car and wanted to know if he could catch a ride with them to Springfield.  You could tell they were a bit uneasy to let this bum ride in their car, and they began to make many excuses.  After a bit, Bob said “That’s alright, I’ll get a ride with someone else.”  They went on their way, relieved, I’m sure to not have that man in their car, but Bob returned to his spot with the other men, chuckling all the way.  All of them knew that Bob had that brand new Chrysler behind the station and was getting a good laugh over the reaction of that couple.

   Bob was just one of many who made life interesting in my growing up days around the service station.

   Another was a perky little widow woman who lived North of Vilas.  Her pride and joy was her Model T Car.  She went by the name of Granny, and I never did know her real name.  I’m not sure if it was unique to our community or not, but we had a many people who went by nicknames, and for some I never know their real names.  There were such names as Pete, Bud, Chub, Buzzy, and in school there was Jappie,  Pee Wee, Squirt, Arkie, and then there were the older people we respectfully addressed as Aunt or Uncle, or Granny and one known as Pop.  My parents taught me early in life that I was to address older people as Mr. or Mrs., unless they gave me permission to use a nickname.

   Anyway I was always impressed when Granny came to town in her Model T.  Such cars were becoming quite rare in the late thirties and early forties.  But Granny drove hers with pride, and we gave her the same service as all other customers.  She was a very independent little lady and didn’t mind letting you know what she believed and why.

   My days of growing up in Baca County were made much richer because of people like Granny and other older citizens,