Rosa’s Rattlesnake Resort


photo by CloverPhoto

Rosa’s Rattlesnake Resort
Janelle Meraz Hooper

This is a true story. Not all of my “adventures” with my dad happened in Oklahoma. Some of them were in Texas and other places. This story was supposed to be in As Brown As I Want, The Indianhead Diaries, but I thought three murder attempts in the book were enough to make my point, so I cut it out. As Brown As I Want was a finalist in the 2004 Oklahoma Book Awards.

I was the perfect kid to grow up in Oklahoma. From childhood, I’d entertained myself by watching the bugs, spiders, and other interesting insects in my dad’s backyard. I was never bored.

Dad never noticed the critters in his grass and trees. All he cared about was his chickens, ducks, and rabbits. He kept the chickens in the hen house, everything else he kept in wire cages. Those were for us to eat, so I couldn’t play with them. I hated the chickens, especially the rooster. At seven years old, it was my job to collect the eggs every morning and the rooster would fly at my face with his claws aimed right for my face and screech like some Japanese warrior. The hens were on my bad side too, because, every night, they flew over the wire fence and slept on the branches of our peach trees. Well, I liked peaches, but even I wouldn’t eat a poopy peach.

His backyard sat over an underground water reservoir that we drew our garden water from. He told me that the fish down there didn’t have eyes. Didn’t need them, he said, because it was dark all the time underground. I wanted to fish in that well and try to catch one of them but Dad wouldn’t let me. I think he was a little bit afraid I might catch one and who knows? Maybe they had teeth! Or, maybe, he was afraid I’d fall in and pollute his garden water. I’ll never know.

Luckily, we had relatives in Benavides, Texas. I had a big surprise when we visited my stepmother’s mother there. Her backyard was all sand and cacti! How great was that? That’s where the fun was. The last time we visited there, Sarah’s mother was sick and confined to bed. Dad and Sarah were having a big argument about what to do with her, so they threw me out in the backyard to play. I didn’t mind a bit that it was really hot outside because it was hotter inside. My dad was yelling a lot and the little one-room house’s walls were shaking from his anger.

At first, I thought there was nothing to do out there because there wasn’t even a place to sit. No chairs or nothing and the sand was almost hot enough to burn my feet through my sandals. The whole backyard was fence-to-fence cacti. Big ones. To pass the time, I picked up some small rocks and tossed them into the cacti that were so crowded  I couldn’t see in between the plants.

From the first rock I threw, I thought I was the luckiest girl I knew. Every time I threw a rock, I’d hear the rattle of rattlesnakes. It was like they had their own little resort in that backyard. I picked up handfuls of small rocks and moved all around the edge of the yard and every time I tossed one of them into the cactus, I heard rattles! I wanted to see one so bad and I figured that if I made them mad enough, eventually one of them would come out.

But no luck. After a while, I turned my attention to the house, which was propped up on cinder blocks. All kinds of garbage were stuffed under there that they didn’t want anymore. Things like rusty barbed wire, old buckets with holes in them, and old wooden fence posts that were too rotten to use.

And then I found a real treasure: there among all of that junk was a perfect skeleton of a frog. All bones, and no skin at all. He was sitting on the sand like nothing was wrong—he was just enjoying the landscape. I figured maybe one of those snakes bit him and he died on the spot. I was just getting ready to find something to put him in so I could take him home when the yelling and crying inside the house got worse. It sounded like Dad was on one side of the hospital bed and Sarah was on the other. In the middle was Sarah’s mother, Rosa.

Dad was yelling that no way he was going to take that old Mexican home to live with them. “She don’t even speak English,” he scoffed. Sarah was yelling that she was her mother and she wanted to take her home to live with them…forever!

I decided I’d better get away from there quick and come back to pick up the frog before we left. I wandered around and found a little grocery store down the street where the man who owned it didn’t speak English but I didn’t even have enough money to buy a pop to drink so it didn’t matter. I hadn’t eaten all day but it was too hot to eat anyway. What I really wanted was one of those tall, frosted glass candles with a picture of the Virgin Mary on the front. I thought it would look nice in the rattlesnake resort. One was lit up and it looked real pretty. The grocer had boxes of them. Maybe his customers lost their power a lot?

After a while, I decided I’d better get back before they missed me and I’d be in as much trouble as Sarah’s mom. I was just in time. They had just started to look for me. I guess the argument was settled. Sarah was crying and Dad was opening the car doors to let some cool air into the car. It was obvious Rosa was not going back to Oklahoma with us. He was still mad as heck even though he’d won the argument.

I knew better than to keep Dad waiting. I dove into the backseat so fast I forgot my frog skeleton. I didn’t remember it until we were out of town. I didn’t dare ask Dad to take me back so I could get it. I told myself that maybe it would still be there if we ever went back. ‘Course we never did. I guess Dad had worn out his welcome there for good.
After we got back to Lawton, I never heard another word about Sarah’s mother. Not a word. It was just like Benavides, Texas—and Rosa—never existed.

The end

                                    Please share this post. My thanks, Janelle  

Photo: At the beach, no makeup, no hair dryer, no sunscreen.

HEAVEN!

Powwows and fry bread

As Brown As I Want
The Indianhead Diaries

Buy now!
Amazon. Paperback and Kindle.

On a Powwow day… a few lines from As Brown As I Want, The Indianhead Diaries…

While Carlos and I were loading our clothes in the car, he got close to my ear and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve packed us some extra food. You know, just in case…”
   “Just in case, what, Carlos?”
   “In case those fool Indians start dancing and ‘hy-ya, hy-ya, hy-ya’ right through dinner like they did last time.”
   I laughed at that. Sometimes, meals at powwows are catch as catch can and Carlos and I have failed to catch a few.
  One night, at the last powwow, we were so hungry we joined a group of Indians we didn’t even know. We were invited, but we decided to never tell our mothers because the last thing they’d said to us was, “Don’t wear out your welcome.”
   To us, sitting down at a strange family’s picnic table with her children and eating the last piece of fry bread on the paper plate certainly seemed to fit into that category.
   When we got back to our tepee that night, Mildred had three wrought iron pans of chicken frying, and we ate again, just so we wouldn’t hurt her feelings.

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Custer & His Naked Ladies. #3 in the Turtle Trilogy

finalcustercoverSee the book on Amazon

A modern-day Western novel…
PB & Kindle, suitable for New Adult (NA) and up. Amazon and others.

Published by iUniverse.

A few lines from Custer & His Naked Ladies, the third book in my Turtle Trilogy. Glory, all grown up now, lives in Seattle and has unexpectedly been left by her husband. She’s on a commuter plane between Ft. Worth and Lawton—on her way home to see her family…while she’s looking out the plane’s window, she ponders the past… 

Glory looked down at the barren landscape, after recognizing the pain and suffering of the settlers a part of her switched sides…A good example was Cynthia Ann Parker, a settler’s child who was kidnapped by Comanches in 1836 when she was nine-years-old, and later became the mother of Quanah Parker, who grew up to be a great Comanche chief. As a child, she must have been terrified when the Comanches carried her away but years later, when she was “rescued” by the white man, she didn’t want to return to the white settlement. She had become a Comanche heart and soul. She died of a broken heart when she was separated from her Indian family. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

Glory had read the stories about the Indian cruelty to the settlers, but little was said about the whites, like Cynthia Ann Parker, who had embraced the Indian way of life.
Still, the pain and suffering of the settlers couldn’t be ignored. Glory couldn’t imagine how she could survive if she were a mother whose child had been ripped away from her and carried off by a band of screaming Indians. Many of them never saw or heard from their child again. They must have spent the rest of their days wondering if it were alive or dead.

Glory looked down at the barren landscape. A part of her switched sides. So, you couldn’t wait to get rid of the Indians and get our land. What have you done with it? Nothing! Except maybe pollute it. Give it back! Glory tried to imagine the plains once again filled with buffalo and other game. Peaceful Indian villages would nestle next to the creeks…yeah, Glory interrupted herself, until a neighboring tribe came and set their teepees on fire…okay…so not all of the Indians’ troubles were caused by the white man.

The drink cart began to move down the aisle. A gray-haired woman on the other side of the plane leaned over the arm of her chair and softly asked Glory, “Pardon me, but I’m from New Jersey and I’m wondering if you’re a real Indian?”

“Funny you should ask. I’m going back home to try and figure that out!”

The woman didn’t know if Glory was being funny or rude. Why shouldn’t she be confused? She was!

“No, really,” Glory continued, “I was part-white and part-Mexican when my mother got remarried to a Comanche Indian when I was eight-years-old. I’m not really sure what I am!”

“I see. Perhaps you should convert to Judaism like me. Then your confusion would be complete.” She looked out her window, “We did our share of wandering in the desert. Of course, we didn’t have RVs,” she joked. Her eyes followed a caravan of recreational vehicles as they moved down the road, red dust billowing behind them.

“That’s not a bad idea. The only problem is I don’t think all of those cultures would fit on my sweatshirt.”

The stewardess came around with cold drinks and the woman struck up a conversation with her.

“Do you have any kosher Coke?” she teased.

“No Ma’am, but I have some kosher Pepsi.”

“That’ll do.”

Custer & His Naked Ladies. Book 3 of the Turtle Trilogy. Paperback and Kindle (etc.). Suitable for New-Adult and up. Published by iUniverse.


Reviews

 “Janelle  Meraz Hooper has done it again! Custer & His Naked Ladies is filled with quirky and likable characters in a richly detailed setting. Humor, family, and love come shining through. There is a poignant line in the book that has stayed with me, “Old age had crept in and stolen their bodies while they were dancing through life…” These women have danced! VF Gibson, Seattle, WA

“I purchased Custer & His Naked Ladies at your booth on July 4th in Steilacoom and promised I’d let you know what I thought of it. After I finished it my husband decided to read it (We had both enjoyed A Three-Turtle Summer a few years ago)  so I waited to hear his comments. We thoroughly enjoyed the book. We both agreed that you are excellent at spinning a yarn and at painting a verbal picture of people and places. You can quote us on that! P.R., Tacoma

“I just finished reading your book “Custer & His Naked Ladies LOOOOVE it, excellent writing and story. It gave me a nice inside view of the wonderful culture of our American Indians. Good job, Janelle S.Z., Puyallup, WA


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