A Life Well Loved - Blonde!

 My Dad is 87 years old now and I take him lunch almost every day. And every day he tells me the story of my birth. As soon as I walk in the door, he hugs me and then says.

"Do you know they were chopping corn when you were born. And I took time off and went to the hospital and I saw you through the window. You didn't have much hair. I stayed for a while and then went home. Your Grandma was watching the other kids.  And as soon as I walked in the door, she asked me what color your hair was. I told her blonde.

 And she looked at me and yelled "Blonde! Where did she get that hair."

I laughed and told her "I don't know, you will have to ask your daughter when she brings the baby home."

The funny thing was my dad is Mexican, and his hair is black as night and my mom being Irish had brown hair. Grandma couldn't figure out where I got blonde hair. But I didn't have blonde hair. I just didn't have enough for my dad to see it was brown. I have always had brown hair.

One more funny thing about this is he did name me after Sandra Dee who did have blonde hair. Except Mom wouldn't let him keep the D as my middle name.

He thinks that is the funniest story. Someday I might just dye my hair blonde and surprise him!

SK Virtue

01/29/2026

Snippets - Run Piggy Run

When I was about 18, I lived with my parents and a few siblings about a mile outside Park City, Montana, on a property with an old farmhouse, a bunkhouse, some sheds, and corrals. I’d graduated high school the year before and worked at a sewing shop in town. My younger brother, Raymond, stayed in the bunkhouse, and when he wasn’t in school, he helped my dad at a feedlot fifteen miles away. At the time, my parents decided to raise pigs, so they bought a bunch of weaner pigs and kept them in the corrals behind an old shed. Those little guys were adorable, always wrestling, fighting, and playing. One Saturday, my mom went to town with my siblings, my dad was at work, and I stayed home. My brother loved to sleep in when he didn’t have school or work, so he was still out cold in the bunkhouse. I happened to glance out the window and saw piglets running wild—they’d escaped the pen. I pounded on my brother Raymond’s door, yelling, “The pigs are out!” Then I bolted after them, chasing those wily little things around the corrals and sheds until I was winded. That’s when my brother joined in, but the piglets were like greased lightning, darting just out of reach, sending him face-first into the dirt a couple of times. We took turns chasing them for over an hour until we finally collapsed, exhausted and filthy. And wouldn’t you know it; those mischievous pigs found the hole they’d escaped from and trotted right back in. My brother looked at me and said, “Those goddamned pigs.”  I shook my head and echoed him. “Those goddamned pigs.” We both burst out laughing, then covered the hole with a board and nails, making sure we wouldn’t have to run after those little pink troublemakers again.

SK Virtue

02/01/2026

Rocks

 In life we all have rocks we carry around with us. 

Even people who seem to have everything. 

Their pockets are full of rocks weighing them down.

There is no need to be jealous of anyone.

You never know if their rocks are heavier than yours.

SK Virtue

10/12/2025

Poetry - Don't Cry for Me

 

Don't stand around a coffin 

And cry sad unending tears for me.

Send me off with a joyful laugh 

And watch me float away

In a cool spring morning breeze.

Don't bury me beneath the earth

Where the cold darkness will eat away at my body until

I am just a bag of bones.

Toss me into the wind

So that I can fly with the birds 

And float with the clouds toward home.

Spread my ashes across a golden valley of sunshine.

Where the green trees yearn to touch the blue sky.

Where purple flowers whisper in the warm breeze.

Toss me in the wind and let me fly.

Let me lay on carpet of wildflowers

In a quiet evening meadow.

Let me listen to the cricket's chirp

And listen to the flowers grow.

Dance with joy in the morning light

As you toss me in the wind.

Sing songs of jubilation

as you watch as I take flight.

Shed tears of happiness in the golden sunset

If you must cry for me.

Share stories of my life well lived

As I float away on the breeze.

Live your life with gladness

Don't dwell on all the sadness.

Think of me with a delightful smile.

Remember....

We'll be together in a little while.

 by SK VIRTUE

 copyright 09/24/2025

 

Snippets - Milk and Cows

By SK Virtue as told by my dad. My Dad was born in 1938. This snippet took place around 1948. Dad and Lupe were about a year apart in age. 

When I was about 8 years old, we lived on a farm just outside of Ballantine Montana. My dad farmed acreage he rented from Claude Pierson. Some of it was on north 28 above the tracks and some of it was down by the river. We had ten milk cows at the time. they were Holstein /Angus cross.  My brother Lupe, and I milked the cows in the morning than we would walk them down from the farm on the hill to the river acreage which was about 3 miles away. 

The cows calved each year, and we would take them to sale. One year we kept one of the calves. It was a bull. Lupe and I raised it. Lupe wrestled and played with that bull. And he began to ride it like a horse. You know when we took the cows down by the river Lupe would ride that big bull and people driving along the road would stop and stare. That bull was a big bull, close to 2000 pounds. But Lupe wasn't afraid of him. We were kind of sad when Dad sold him, but he went to a good place. The Goggins Ranch bought that bull and used him for quite a while for breeding.

My mom used to separate the milk and cream with a cream separator she turned with her hands. She would pour the cream into those metal cream cans with the lids and the skim milk would go to the pigs we were raising. Once the cream cans were full, Mom would put then out on the ditch bank by the road and the truck from the Worden creamery would drive by and pick them up. The next day they would leave them in the same spot with the money; they paid my mom; stuck in one of the cans. This happened about twice a week. 

Lupe used to get so mad at the cows when we milked because they were always swatting flies with their tails. And of course, the tail end would swish on our heads. One day Lupe decided to be smart and shave one of the cow's tails. I guess he figured that if the tail was gone the cow wouldn't swat flies. But he was wrong. The moment Lupe sat down to milk, that cow swished her tail stub and damn near knocked Lupe out. He had a bump on his head the size of a baseball for days. And you know what, I didn't have to milk that cow until her tail hair grew back. Dad said since Lupe shaved the tail, he would have to milk the cow until its tail hair grew back. Was I ever grateful!

SNIPPETS - Farm Life was the Best Life.

The best times of my life were spent on a farm. As a young kid we had the freedom to run and play and just spend a whole summer messing around. The farm was a kid's playground. And as far as friends... well, you had six other brothers and sisters who were your friends.

We played on the haystacks and built forts in them until we got in trouble for pulling all the bales out of the middle of the haystack. We had rooms everywhere inside the haystack. What we didn't know was that the stack could have caved in anytime. Dad was so angry at us that day. We were grounded to the yard for two whole days.

We grabbed the cattails out of the creek by the corrals and pulled them apart to make a fluffy layer on the road and then ran through it pretending we were in heaven.

We bounced on dead bloated sheep bellies like they were our own special trampolines. We didn't realize they might explode at any time.

We sat on the corral ties and sang to the cows and walked the plank like pirates until one of us fell in the cow poop and then we all got in trouble. And then we stood and teased my sister who had to have a bath because she was completely covered in cow poop.

I was fed worms by my sister and brother, and we tasted dog food from the dog dish just to see what it tasted like. I even ate a robin egg because I thought it was Easter candy.

We watched as Dad milked the cow and squirted it at the line of cats that sat in a row waiting patiently to taste the delicious milk.

We swam in irrigation ditches and rode our bikes down dirt roads.

We pulled weeds in the garden as we sang at the top of our lungs "Mama Mia, Mama Mia, Mama Mihee-hee-hee -ia! (This one is for you Dar!) 

We played hide and seek in the dark and shadow tag in the moonlight. 

We found anthills and dug tunnels. Somehow, we never got bitten by the ants.

We ran in flooded pastures and got chased by water snakes. 

There were so many things for a kid to do that we were never bored. We stayed out until dark and got up at the break of dawn the next morning to run and play again.

The farm was a magical place, and we never really needed to go anywhere else. Because we had everything we needed on the farm.

SK VIRTUE

06/25/2025

 

Snippets - Tragedy on the Yellowstone River.

 The year was around 1967, and we lived on a farm just outside Billings, Montana. My dad worked as the hired hand, doing everything from milking cows to planting cornfields. Mom was always busy taking care of us kids, cooking, and feeding the chickens. For us kids, the farm was like a giant playground filled with endless fun and adventure. There was never a dull moment. The farm was bordered by the Yellowstone River, about a mile away, but Dad gave us strict orders to stay far from it. The Yellowstone River, though it appeared calm and leisurely, was notorious for its treacherous undertows and strong currents. Mom and Dad warned us that we’d face the spanking of our lives if we even thought about heading toward the river.

One day, while we were playing on a haystack, I noticed a man in orange running across the field toward us from the direction of the river. It was unusual because the farm was far from Billings, and we rarely saw anyone out there—most people drove up the road. I had never seen someone running across a field like that. I think my dad saw him at the same time because he yelled for us kids to get into the yard and tell Mom. We all ran into the yard, and my sister told Mom. When Mom saw the man, she made us go inside the house. Before going in, I peeked back and noticed the man was wearing nothing but an orange vest. Dad talked to him for a few minutes before rushing into the house to tell Mom there had been an accident in the river. That day, we learned how dangerous the Yellowstone River could be. The man and his friend had been rafting when they hit rough currents and capsized. The man in the orange life jacket survived, but his friend went under. The sheriff and emergency teams came to drag the river and eventually found the body caught on the rocks in the deep water. That image haunted us for days, and we talked about it a lot. To this day, I still think about it, remembering the fear and sadness I felt as a child. Our once-innocent playground had been shattered by tragedy, and it was never the same again.