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John Wayne and I–for “Great Minds Think”

John Wayne and I

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When the Union Pacific Railroad was finally completed on May 10,1869, it was a cause for great celebration. A very good source describing the somewhat hilarious ceremony may be found here, but a segment from that source follows as a background for my own story:

A railroad linking America’s east and west coasts had been a dream almost since the steam locomotive made its first appearance in the early 1830s. The need for such a link was dramatized by the discovery of gold in California in 1848 that brought thousands to the West Coast. At that time only two routes to the West were available: by wagon across the plains or by ship around South America. Traveling either of these could take four months or more to complete.

Although everyone thought a transcontinental railroad was a good idea, deep disagreement arose over its path. The Northern states favored a northern route while the Southern states pushed for a southern route. This log jam was broken in 1861 with the secession of the Southern states from the Union that allowed Congress to select a route running through Nebraska to California.

Construction of the railroad presented a daunting task requiring the laying of over 2000 miles of track that stretched through some the most forbidding landscape on the continent. Tunnels would have to be blasted out of the mountains, rivers bridged and wilderness tamed. Two railroad companies took up the challenge. The Union Pacific began laying track from Omaha to the west while the Central Pacific headed east from Sacramento.

Progress was slow initially, but the pace quickened with the end of the Civil War. Finally the two sets of railroad tracks were joined and the continent united with elaborate ceremony at Promontory, Utah on May 10, 1869. The impact was immediate and dramatic. Travel time between America’s east and west coasts was reduced from months to less than a week.

The ceremony at Promontory culminated with Governor Stanford of California (representing the Central Pacific Railroad) and Thomas Durant (president of the Union Pacific Railroad) taking turns pounding a Golden Spike into the final tie that united the railroad’s east and west sections. As the spike was struck, telegraph signals simultaneously alerted San Francisco and New York City, igniting a celebratory cacophony of tolling bells and cannon fire in each city.
“It was a very hilarious occasion; everybody had all they wanted to drink…”
http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/goldenspike.htm

It will probably come as no surprise that in 1969 it was decided to have a huge ceremony honoring the 100th anniversary of the “Wedding of the Rails” in Utah. To that end, two trains set out—one from the easternmost point of the track and the other from the westernmost point. These trains were destined to meet at the original point of their joining, but since they were filled with dignitaries, they made numerous stops along the way with celebrations at each point where they stopped.

In 1969, I was attending university in Laramie, Wyoming. It was announced that John Wayne and Glen Campbell would be on one of the trains and that they would do a whistle stop where they would both say a few words before continuing on to the ceremony. Now it just so happened that this event coincided with Sigma Chi Derby Days—an annual event that consisted of a number of challenges whereby campus groups could assemble points. What the prize was I can’t remember, but I do remember that one of the contests was to gain the signature of the most famous person, and I happened to know that John Wayne himself had been a Sigma Chi. If I could somehow gain his signature, we would have it made in the shade for that particular challenge.

And so on the prescribed day, we were off, fully laden, with five of us filling the seats of my little red Ford Galaxy. How we would get close enough to the train to gain the autograph, I did not know, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

There was, as may be expected, a huge crowd at the Laramie train station, and we waited in anticipation for the train. Finally, it came up, sounding its whistle, flags waving. Several men came out to a small stage that had been constructed just in front of the train. Finally, Glen Campbell came out, but no John Wayne. We were puzzled when the speeches started without him. What could have happened to John Wayne? Finally, I was hit with one of those instant inspirations often depicted by a light bulb going off over someone’s head in cartoon bubbles.

“I bet he got off the train to fly back to California!” No one disagreed and it was my car, so off we sped to the airport, which was several miles outside of town. We drove well over the speed limit down the two-lane nearly carless road. As we approached the airport, we could see no larger planes loading, but there was one smaller private plane. We went speeding up to the airport. “I’ll go see what’s going on with that small plane,” I told my friends, springing from the door almost as soon as the car had come to a screeching halt. I went running out onto the field—not hard to do in a small airport in those years before airport security­—and ran smack dab into a man who was walking toward the plane from the opposite direction. “Well, whoa, there, little lady. Where ya goin?” said the brick wall I’d just run into.

“I’m trying to find John Wayne. Do you know if he might be in that plane?” I asked.

“Nope, I’m pretty sure he’s not,” said the man, “because he’s standing right here!”

I looked up—way up—and sure enough. There he was with his hands still on my forearms where he had caught me just before I ran into him broadside!

Yes. It was a surreal experience. And it was even more surreal when I explained about the points and he said, “Well, would it give ya more points if instead of delivering my autograph you could deliver me?” I said it sure would, and we had reached my car and my somewhat astonished friends had piled four in the back for him to climb into the front seat with me when a harried looking man came running out from the landing field shouting, “John, John! What are you doing?”

Long story short, John Wayne did not come back to campus with us. His manager managed to persuade him it was not in his best interests given that something in California was important enough to warrant his immediate return. But, I did get his signature and no, I did not turn it in for Sigma Chi Derby Days. To this day, it resides in a square of a memory box—one of the kind popular in the sixties and seventies that is made out of an old newspaper print box—and as proof, I include a picture below.

And yes, of course John Wayne was three sheets to the wind, for in keeping with the original rail-joining ceremony, “It was a very hilarious occasion; everybody had all they wanted to drink…”

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Great Minds Think” wants us  to tell a Story with a twist.

For Fibbing Friday, July 24, 2026

For Fibbing Friday, July 24, 2026 the assignment is:

1. What is a faucet?  One of Charley’s Angels.

2. What is a patella? Cinderella’s younger sister.

3. What is an elevator? An escalator for elves.

4. What is a lancet? A small sword.

5. What is a ferris wheel? A tire for Tinkerbell’s car.

6. How would you describe a pomegranate? Either vocally or in written script or on my computer.

7. What is a fringe? The Amharic word for a foreigner.

8. What is a bunion? A very small rabbit.

9. What is a munchkin? What you call your younger brother or sister when they are chewing their after-school snack.

10. What is an arctic roll? It’s what happens when a walrus or seal slips on the ice.

 

“When I Was Young and Limber” for Thursday Inspiration

Watching kids in the playground

When I was young and limber and given to wild rambles,
I came home from my wanderings complete with burrs and brambles.
I shed them on the carpets, I shared them via towels.
Never taking credit for the curses, shrieks and howls.
I thought my lovely meanderings among the fields and ditches
were worth the sacrifice of things brought in on my britches.

For Thursday Inspiration, the prompt is “Young.”

Marilyn Armstrong Doll Collection

Be Sure to double click on photos to enlarge!

As longtime friends in blogging, Marilyn Armstrong and I often found ourselves discussing dolls that we owned in common. Little did I know how many dolls she owned, but eventually, when she decided that she’d like to find a permanent home for her dolls where they could all be exhibited together, I told her of a doll museum in the works that I had visited during my last 5 year school reunion in the town where I grew up. .  This eventually led to a discussion between its founder, Andrea Miller Sheehan, and Marilyn, and the result was that Marilyn shipped her entire collection off to her.  This year, when I returned  for the reunion, I was able to see Marilyn’s complete display. Her writeup of her collection can be read if you click on it and then  enlarge it a bit more, as is true of all of the photos.  I’m sure Marilyn’s family and friends who have continued her blog would love to hear your comments.

As I understand it, the museum is still under development as its owner has had family health issues over the past five years that have kept her from completing the installations. Fortunately, Marilyn’s displays are completed and  hopefully, the museum will soon be finished and open. It is located in Murdo, South Dakota, just off Interstate 90 between Rapid City and Mitchell, just 50 miles east of Wall Drug.  I’ll keep you informed about developments and give better instructions about how to find it when it has opened permanently.
–Judy Dykstra-Brown, July 21, 2026

 

“Killing Time” for FOWC

 

Meeting an Old Friend

Sixty years since you lived one block away.
In one hour we meet for brunch and memories.
Really my sister’s friend,
but in small towns, so devoid of much else to do,
people still living and moved away
become legends.
Your mother the nightclub singer
with the distinctive whistle that called you home
from behind trees and low in ditches at night,
the rest of us still caught in the thrlll of “ditch ‘em”–
our version of hide-and-seek.
I was the tag-a-long, the watcher
to your cowboy games
and the neighborhood plays
raising nickel-after-nickel for a memorial plaque
for the small boy killed from a fall from the tallest slippery slide.
That slide gone soon after, the plaque never installed,
as you were gone to a larger town
and voice lessons translating your pure high voice
to the more studied operatic perfection
of a sweet bottom in a tight girdle.
Still a small town girl at heart
now, all these years later,
you pull our somewhat
off-tune unschooled
voices to you
over years
and miles
to sing
the
old
school
song.

For FOWC the prompt is “Killed.”
The prompt word is just a tiny tragic detail in this nostalgic poem of a past
and a present that has now become the past as well.

Pick a Pickled Pepper, for Blast from the Past (From July 20, 2017)

Pick a Pickled Pepper

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Pick a Pickled Pepper

Some girls lick on lollipops, but I never will.
I prefer the piquant taste of vinegar and dill.
Pickle up some peppers  and shove them in a jar.
Put a label on it to show them who you are.
If a cute boy eats one, he will pucker up,
and perhaps you’ll plant a kiss where he deigned to sup.

Pick a cherry pepper, press it to your lips,
and that special spicy boy might want to steal some sips.
Do not tell your mother. Do not tell your dad,
or that might be the only pepper that you ever had.
Lollipops are sweet, but just a little coy.
Pickles work much better for picking out your boy.

 Strangely enough, the song “Lollipop, Lollipop” has been going through my mind for the past few days.  I even made up different lyrics to the tune of it to sing to Annie, my 15-year-old ill cat,  as I drove her (meowing all the way) home from the vet the other day. The men who stand in the road to wave people into the fish restaurants near San Juan Cosala must have wondered at me as I hollered out the strange song at the top of my lungs, just like my dad used to do to startle a howling baby into silence.  Ah well.  We get odder as we get older but have more of an excuse for it!

Zoe Meets Ollie. 2022

Just found this darling video of Ollie mothering Zoe when I first brought her home. four years ago

“Quartet”, for Today’s “Throwback Edition”

 

 


Quartet

They flicker like tiny sparks,
these rapid kittens
intense in attention,
movements reflecting
every neighboring small movement.
Suspicious of brief distractions.
Violent, then soft like the feather
they’ve destroyed,
drifting to the window frame above,
forgotten by its intense stalkers
of a second before.

This is a post from July 19, 2017

More Fibs for Fibbing Friday

 

For Fibbing Friday, the task at hand is:

1. What is a pinkie? A very small brooch.

2. What is a fortress? What is for tress is barrette or bobby pin.

3. What is a snapdragon? A large, irritated, flying lizard.

4. What is a pantry? An unsuccessful attempt at flipping a pancake which ends up the flapjack on the ceiling.

5. What is a windchime? A clock won in a raffle.

6. How would you describe a banana? With pen and paper or vocally.

7. What is a moustache? A rodent’s dental pain.

8. What is a nub? A freshly hatched flying, stinging insect that produces honey.

9. What is a metaphor? It is for referring to yourself.

10. What is a lunatic? A burrowing insect on a moonlit night.

Walking to Town for Blast from the Past

I am in Sheridan, Wyoming, spending the night at the home of my best friend since college days, having flown from Guadalajara to Billings Montana yesterday. I was picked up by my sister Patti, and after spending the night in a motel near the airport, we drove to Sheridan. Here I have  seen a number of old friends and tomorrow Patti and I drive to Murdo, South Dakota, to our high school reunion, which meets every 5 years. If it had been held last year, it would have been my 60th year reunion and Patti’s 64th, but our school in our town of 700 was so small that it is necessary to just combine all of the class reunions from every year into one big reunion held every 5 years. Murdo, South Dakota, here we come!!!

It is appropriate, then, that my “Blast from the Past” prompt to reblog a blog posted on this date in an earlier year describes a day at my reunion ten years ago. Here it is:

Walking to Town

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Lifelessons,

I was trying to post my blog when my sister and brother-in-law asked if I wanted to accompany them to town to meet friends at the Star Cafe.  Since I’d been trying in vain to post since I woke up this morning, I decided to stay in the motel until I’d posted, so she told me to call when I was ready to come into town and she’d come get me.

A few hours later when I was still unable to post, I tried to call, but alas––no cell phone coverage and no wifi!  When I went to the office, I was greeted by a sign that the office would be closed until 3:30 and with not a car in the parking lot, I knew I was the solitary person in residence at the moment.

The only solution I could think of was to walk to town–more than a mile away down a gravel road like this one:

 

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and then along the shoulder of the highway that leads to town.

 

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En route I would need to cross an overpass over Interstate 90 as well as an exit and an entrance.

 

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It was a hot day and the way would be treelesss. Still, I set out on my adventure.

First, past the lonely horse in the pasture.

 

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Giving him a few pats on the nose, I was on my way again. We were both looking pretty hot!

 

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As I approached the local cemetery, a police car pulled up to see if I needed help, but didn’t offer me a ride.

After a half hour walk or so, I encountered another solitary inhabitant of the road:

 

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And,as you can see from this view, I was drawing nearer to my destination. Just another 600 feet or so to go.

 

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I arrived at the Pioneer Auto Museum a bit wind-tossed and sweaty, and luckily the two very nice ladies in the gift shop loaned me a cell phone to call my sister. Ten minutes later, she picked me up and we did a short swing through town to see former residences and other haunts before returning to the motel.  It was, in fact, a bit of a futile exercise just to return to where I’d departed from an hour and a half before.  The rest of the day, however, turned out to be wonderful––old friends as well as some new ones, some surprises, a few tears, lots of laughs and a few messages from dear departed ones via stories I’d never heard before.  But it is 3:20 in the morning and I need to be up by 8 so I will desist and say as a famous man did many times in the past, that that is the rest of the story!