My Mom and I lived with my Grandparents for a bit more than a year while my Dad served his time in the Army. It was just at the end of WWII, and I was very small, but still old enough to remember events of great importance. Of course, the events important to me were not the same as for others. A 4 year old has a very different view of the world than any adult.

My Grandparents lived on a small ranch in south central Idaho, located in a mountain valley cradling a moderate size river. The ranches in the valley were connected to the rest of the world by a dirt road, the river and for the luckier residents, a battery powered AM radio. There was no electricity, and the US Mail delivery ended in a Post Office box in the small town about 5 miles down the valley. Although the “town” had a small store, any real shopping had to be done in Boise, about 50 miles to the south. Getting to your mail in the winter was a matter of luck. A ski trip into town to pick it up could be the only option. The Post Master could supply a place to sleep should you need to stay over night before skiing home.

The valley and ranch were a paradise for someone my age. I had 2 dogs (Mutt and Jeff) to keep me company; a barn equipped with cats to chase, a milk cow, and a front yard the size of a city block. The ranch was mostly mountain meadow grass for cattle, but was surrounded by a pine forest on the three sides opposite the river, that extending for miles into mountain terrain.

The ranch house was about 200 yards east of the river, which ran (more or less) in the center of the valley. The house was very small. With only 2 small bedrooms, a living room and kitchen, it was smaller than almost any modern house. No, I didn’t forget, there was no bathroom (inside).

I suppose the house had to be small. The only sources of heat were the big wood stoves in the living room, and kitchen for cooking. The house was always cold in the morning, and in winter, I stayed in bed until my Granddad got the stove going.

Bath day, (for me) included a galvanized washtub in front of the stove. Water was hauled in from a spring house a few yards behind the main house, and heated on the big kitchen cook stove. Baths were a once-a-week event, due to the effort involved.

That’s where we lived. It was a throwback to another age, a time and place where people still lived in the 19^th century. No TV, radio (except on special occasions to save the battery), electricity, phone, mail service or grocery store.

The things we did have, however, were love, family and good, interesting neighbors.

There was another ranch across the river from ours. The white ranch house sat on a bluff above the river about ½ a mile from us (as the crow flies). The two brothers that lived there had done so all their lives. They were 80 or so at the time, and about as set in their ways as is possible. One of the brothers had been married years ago, and had a daughter living in the city (Boise) that would come to visit on rare occasions. He was quite happy with that long distance arrangement.

One year, the daughter decided it was time to get her dad out of his old bib overalls and into town. It didn’t seem right to her that someone in her position, in that day and age, should have a relative living in such an “unrefined” circumstance. To rectify this situation, she had purchased a new suit for her father from “The Golden Rule Store” in Boise, and headed for the ranch. She planned to dress her dad up, and show him how it felt to be “refined”, and then coax him into joining her in the city. Further refinements were to follow.

It wasn’t that hard to get her dad into the new suit, after all most dads will do most anything to keep their daughters happy, at least in the short term. Everyone was amazed at the transformation, and the daughter was so pleased she could hardly contain her excitement.

The suit makes the man- the adds all say so- but the adds don’t tell the whole story; the suit may make the man look good, but the suit won’t change his attitude.

Lunch was to be served in the afternoon, and the old man’s big trip into town was to follow. The daughter’s master plan was in motion, and she felt as though she was in complete control at last. The schedule even had a deadline, (of sorts) based on the notion that traveling after dark was dangerous, and a timely start was crucial. Lunch and the big trip were at hand.

As the afternoon had worn on, the old man had disappeared in the general commotion of the visiting relatives and a couple of drop-in neighbors. The guest of honor and his new suit were missing. Lunch was on the table but the old man was not at his assigned place. He had vanished without a trace.

At first, the daughter was FURIOUS. She was sure her father was just being stubborn or attempting to make her look bad in front of the family and ruin her plan. He should know better than that, SHE knew what was best for the old coot. The hour grew later and later, and the daughter began to worry. She began to have visions of her poor (but well dressed) father suffering a heart attack, brought on by his sudden introduction to the 20^th Century, with only bears, and wolves for help.

Almost as soon as the daughter’s panic began to set in for real, she spotted her father, strolling slowly up towards the lunch table from the general direction of the river. He had a bit of spring in his step, and looked very pleased with himself. He also looked a little damp and rumpled.

The explanation was quite simple; the old man’s new clothes had too much starch, and he had taken a short dip in the river to rectify the situation (sans hat, of course). Afterward, he spent an hour or so drying out in the sun, and had taken a short nap. His cloths felt better, they still looked “store-bought”, and he was ready for lunch.

The daughter’s end of he table was a quiet place throughout lunch. She knew her plan was doomed. Her father could never adapt to city life, and she finally knew so for sure. The old man, however, was more social than he had been for years. He exchanged stories of the “old days” with anyone who would listen, punctuating each story with a poke in the ribs and a laugh. It’s hard not to feel good when you’re eating well in a new, comfortable suit of clothes!

I wonder what the old man would think if he knew his old ranch house was now a bed and breakfast. That’s probably another story.