Happy July!

July is the month of our most patriotic holiday, July 4th. Hail to the Red, White and Blue! It’s also the month in the middle of summer vacations. One of the perks of having a husband and three sons was that I went on so many vacations that I would never have dreamed up on my own. Every summer the five of us piled into our station wagon. Sometimes our German Shepherd, Dolly patrolled the space in the back of the car. We headed out for a week at a family camp, nestled among the pines and the grandeur of the New Mexico mountains. There is no better way to start the day than sitting on the porch of a wooden cabin enjoying a steaming cup of coffee and looking at the majesty and permanence of God's mountains. When the week was up we set off for another week of exploring. We visited Candy Court Houses, (by far the best way to get acquainted with a small-town) tennis courts, football stadiums, and other venues not often found in travel brochures. One year, at the request of our youngest son, we traveled to the gravesites of those who were legends of the Wild West. It was surprisingly informational about the history of the Southwestern part of the country.

Our first trip was almost our last. It was to the gravesite of “Buffalo Bill” (William Frederick) Cody an army scout and a showman. He was buried in June 1917 on Lookout Mountain near Golden, Colorado (a town also known as the home of Coors Brewery). A rather dilapidated sign by the side of the road pointed to the gravesite at the top of a rather dilapidated highway up the side of the mountain. I questioned it but my husband insisted he had been on this very same road with his family in 1930. Probably so, but that had been a while. I urged him to turn around to the choruses of “Oh Mom don't be silly,” about halfway up this road with no guard rail, no centerline, and no place to turn around now, the boys began a chorus of “Turn Around.” Dolly howled to let us know this was hurting her ears. I prayed hard, my husband broke skillfully and we finally arrived at the location. Before us was a

Down the road a piece in the Paupers Cemetery of Glenwood Springs Colorado lie the remains of John Henry “Doc” Holliday, a well-educated dentist from the East who came West because of his tuberculosis. He drowned his symptoms with whiskey and became an ace card player, gunslinger, and partner of famed Sheriff Wyatt Earp. The pair are best known for their victory in the Shootout at O.K. Corral in Tombstone, Arizona. The last survivor, Wyatt Earp, was buried beside his wife in Colma, California in January 1929, with a lovely epitaph,

“Nothings so sacred as Honor. Nothing so loyal as Love.”

“Wild Bill,” (William B.) Hickok was buried in 1879 in Deadwood, Black Hills, South Dakota. His epitaph read,

"Pard, we will meet again in the Happy Hunting grounds never more to part”

Jesse James, famous train robber and bank robber, was buried in Kearney, Missouri in 1882. On his marker, his mother called out his assassin but refused to dignify him by name.

Circling back to New Mexico, we come to the grave of Billy the Kid, (William Bonney), in old Fort Sumner, where he was shot by Sheriff Pat Garrett. There is a wooden marker that says only "Pals" and displays the names of his two cohorts in crime.

What about our state? We cannot leave out the great state of Texas. Rumor has it that Billy the Kid spent three days and nights in the Coldwater jail, in the Texas Panhandle, before he escaped. The town of Coldwater is extinct but the land on which the jail and adjacent cemetery were located is clearly viewable. That property now belongs to our family. We are happy to point out the location of the jail, but we cannot claim that Billy the Kid lies in the adjacent cemetery. That's as close as I can get to a Fabulous Finish for you!