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Wednesday, August 9, 2017 The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
Bull by Bull
By Judy Bull
Columnist
• When I offered to help
out the Anglea family — a
clan of foodies — I was
asked to provide dinner
upon their arrival home from
a cross-country U-Haul trip.
For me, that about ended life
as I knew it. After a sleepless
night, I came up with a game
plan, which included two of
my favorite people contrib-
uting a smoked pork roast
and a batch of the best home-
made cookies in the world. I
felt sure I could handle the
side dishes and wine, and I
wouldn’t even need to take
my printer out of the oven.
• I Googled ’53 Dodge
pickups the other night, look-
ing to see what I remember
about Red’s gray six-win-
dowed truck, lo those many
years ago. When I saw pho-
tos of the cab, I realized I’d
probably only ridden inside
a couple of times. Rain or
shine, we were always in the
back feeding out.
• Some of the yummiest
meals I eat, I eat standing
at the kitchen sink: Costco
chickens, oranges, just-
made potato salad, PB&J
sandwiches ... all with a big
glass of ice cold milk. I can
still see 10-year-old Jayson
Berray sitting at my table,
long years ago, oooooohing
and ahhhhhhhhing over how
cold Judy Bull’s milk always
is. One of the best cooking
compliments this non-cook
has ever received.
• Vernon always kept a
pump-action shotgun next
to his bed. And a machete.
When he found out he
couldn’t have a firearm at
Bend Vanilla, he bought one
of those pump-action mops,
which sounds amazingly
like a you-know-what.
• My 1946 Toastmaster
toaster toasted its last two
English muffins a few
Sundays ago. Though the
outside still shined as bright
as new, upon examination,
my friend John told me I
was really lucky it hadn’t
burned down my house. As
beautifully made as it was, it
was too lightweight to serve
as a door stop, so I planted
daisies in it. It is the perfect
centerpiece out on the picnic
table.
• Either I can’t read as
fast as I used to or subtitles
appear and disappear more
quickly than ever. Some
people — much younger
than I — speak so fast that
I cannot even begin to keep
up with their conversations,
let alone do I know of what
they speak. Along these
same lines — lost — I was
in a high-end, glass-and-
metal, new-car showroom
the other day. I just don’t
know how people choose
one car over another: gray,
grayer or silver.
• One hundred and one
elk moved in on my north
fenceline last fall. Now, a
practically invisible, 10-foot-
high, elk-proof fence paral-
lels my 28-year-old humble,
somewhat sagging Montana
X=X=X=X fences. It’s been
very entertaining watch-
ing the ways of these huge
animals move through their
lives. Not at all surpris-
ing, the bugling bulls have
quite a repertoire, to be sure.
• I get TV reception
the old-fashioned way: an
antenna on my roof. I receive
seven channels, including
two PBS stations. Enough
choices for one evening.
OREGON TRAIL:
Connection is deep
and personal
Continued from page 10
archaeology department of
the University of Wyoming,
after the road was moved to
the east.
The identity of the boy
was known immediately
because he had been buried
with a clay stone on his chest
with the name “Jesse Cole”
and the partially visible dates
of his birth and death.
A variety of trail diaries
helped to tentatively identify
the women and indicated that
possibly as many as 30 bod-
ies were buried in this same
area. Pioneers liked to choose
as nice a spot as they could
for burials and often buried
several people together so
they wouldn’t be lonely.
Forensic study of the older
woman’s skeleton revealed
that her pelvic bone had
been sawed in half. That, and
entries in the Scott trail diary,
provided fairly conclusive
evidence that the remains
were those of Ann Scott, my
great-great grandmother.
She had marked curvature
of her sacrum, which would
have made birth an extremely
difficult process. The birth of
her 12th child, who did not
survive, had occurred only
The fi x is...
seven months before their
departure on April 2, 1852.
Ann’s pelvis had been sawed
in an effort to extricate the
baby and was not yet fully
healed.
Custom dictates that skel-
etal remains found by archae-
ology departments are usu-
ally studied and then stored
in labeled boxes somewhere
within the university. But
rancher Cundall and Patsy
Parkin of the Platte County
Historical Society were tire-
less advocates for reinterring
the bones as close to the orig-
inal site as possible.
With dogged determina-
tion, Parkin won out, pos-
sibly setting a precedent for
other found remains of his-
torical value. The skeletons
were each placed in individ-
ual boxes and returned to the
historical society for reburial.
The society had prepared an
historic marker for place-
ment outside the barbed wire
fence between the road and
the gravesite, with coopera-
tion and additional funding
from the Daughters of the
American Revolution.
Over 200 local landown-
ers, University of Wyoming
officials, historians, musi-
cians, and others joined
together on May 2, 2015 for
Honoring the Pioneers, “to
mark the site and pay respects
to those who came before.”
The remains were each
PHOTO BY SUE STAFFORD
Glendo rancher Larry Cundall
on whose land the gravesite is
located. He advocated for the
return of the remains for reburial.
wrapped in a quilt, placed
in a handcrafted wooden
container, and laid to rest.
Passages were read from
Abigail’s diary about the
burial of her mother along the
trail on June 21, 1852.
A bronze marker was cre-
ated by the Oregon California
Trails Association and placed
flush with the ground near the
three graves. On the plaque is
a picture of Ann, a handsome
woman, who died at the too-
young age of 41.
At the time of the cere-
mony, the people planning it
had been unable to locate any
Scott descendants until I con-
tacted them a year later. I was
so sorry to have missed the
event and knew that I wanted
to visit the site — and so my
trip this summer.
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