As you may have read in the Fish-Wrap previously, I did spend quite a few years in Jackson’s Hole, WY. It was a very special time with special people and fun adventures. Here is yet another experience I want to share with you!
Well, it was our first Thanksgiving in the Hole. It just so happened we had the small property next to John Wort’s bigger property north of town. He and his brother, Jesse, were the fellas who built the Wort Hotel in 1941, a famous landmark there.
At the time we built our modest (and I do mean modest) home there, Nubs Wort introduced us to other oldtimers, among them and most special friends, Dail and Rollie Knori.
Luckily for me, they liked and kinda adopted us. It was a gift never expected but made us feel very honored and accepted.
We lived on a dirt road north of town with just a few neighbors.
Besides the Worts there was a retired Vice-Admiral and his wife.
Because the Worts and the above couple “went south” for the winter, Dail had been making early Thanksgiving dinners for all of them in hers and Rol’s cabin for a few years.
Heck, were we ever excited to be a part of this special event! Each of us was asked to do or bring something. My job (!) was to bring the little place cards.
Now, as I told you before, this was a small kitchen, the table at this point taking up most of it, next to the old and wonderful wood stove. So thrilled was I that I thought I would draw small pictures to depict something of each of these people on the cards as best I could.
It just so happened (and I can relate this now as all of the above “guests” have now gone to the Happy Hunting Ground) that a brother from the City was visiting his sister, wife of the Vice-Admiral. I was advised in no uncertain terms on the drive down to the river bottom that Nubs did NOT want to be seated next to this brother for reasons I will not go into here.
After arriving, I proudly went about putting my hand-made place cards around the table. Pretty soon Nubs came to me asking me what in the heck I was doing – I had put her next to this guy. I immediately went back to rectify my grave error. Well, the only place I could put him was next to ME to keep the peace and do the boy-girl-boy-girl thing.
The early Thanksgiving dinner progressed—just delicious with all the home cooked trimmings too—and need I say, there had been some imbibing before we all settled down to this feast. As I related to you before, Dail was always the one who said “Miz Ginzey, I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough.” Well, that particular evening, I will admit I actually had more than enough!
As we were all enjoying the repast and each other’s company, Dail came around with a paper with numbers 1 to 10 on some betting thing—I think it was a football game. I never quite understood how those things worked so kept my mouth shut.
However, my seat partner, this out-of-town feller that no one seemed real fond of, kept asking for a number. I mean he KEPT asking and asking even though she quietly explained SEVERAL times that there were only ten numbers and since he was from out of town, he could not have one.
I could not believe it; he would NOT keep his mouth shut.
Finally, and I mean, after many, many attempts to get his bet in, I turned to him and said in loud and in no-uncertain terms, “Fella, she said you can’t have one, and Out West, that’s known as TOUGH SH—!”
Well …this came out of a fairly prim and proper City gal who had never expressed such sentiments ever and there was SILENCE. Needless to say, he never opened his mouth again (at least during this event).
I will add however, it was a dang good thing my husband was sitting at the OTHER end of the table.
Actually, I did not remember this outburst the next morning. However, it soon became a much repeated quote; and I became even more enveloped and embraced in the hearts of these “oldtimers.” And my vocabulary was irrevocably changed forever.