1995 was a hard year for us. In April, our son of eighteen years died from an aspiration pneumonia. Later that year in December, Peter’s father who had been suffering for several years with Alzheimer’s passed away. Then, on a sunny February morning, our old dog, Chuck, laid down in his favorite spot in the…
Editor’s Note: Be sure to read Carol’s other story about her Granny — just click on her name on the side bar. You can also read her interesting story about her rodeo family. While we were living on Star Lane down by the Animas River, Granny drove up, fresh from her hunting trip in Alaska….
Editor’s Note: Using your best Texas accent, step into the author’s ongoing story about her rodeo family that she’s including in her Storyworth book. My brother, Mark, is fifteen years younger than I am. When he was born, my sister, Susan, and I fought over who would take care of him. He was real cute…
I grew up with cowboys, the real thing. My daddy was a professional rodeo cowboy — a calf roper and a bulldogger. He was born at home on a little ranch in west Texas. The Coffeys were ranchers and horsemen. All my daddy ever wanted to do was to rodeo. From the time I was…
