Ode to June

We're just about to say good bye to June. To do so, Mother and I have teamed up on a project which involves one of her Western paintings: the two riders on Appaloosa horses headed north on Boyer during the winter of 1968. Mother also threw in a painted notecard depicting Sand Creek in the fall.

"What do painted scenes around the neighborhood have to do with saying good bye to June?" you may wonder. Well, this June ain't the month; it's the lady who lived down the road from us all the time I was growing up.

In fact, June Paulet has lived in Sandpoint for all her 78 years. On July 1, however, when her namesake month ends, she'll be starting a new life in Salmon, Idaho, where her daughter and son-in-law own and run McPherson's Clothing Store. June has purchased a triplex in Salmon. Two units are already rented, and she'll be living in the third.

"I looked for a duplex in Sandpoint, " she told me last week. "They want too darn much for them. I found one near the tracks in the Farmin School area for $295,000. So, I bought a triplex in Salmon for $245,000, and it overlooks a horse pasture."

After selling her Sand Creek Angus Ranch to developer Ralph Sletager earlier this year for enough to satisfy her late husband Werner's wishes to "make both of this daughters millionaires," June could've easily purchased that Sandpoint duplex.

But she's a product of the Depression, and she remembers times when much less money was much harder to come by. She, her husband, and their daughters Francie and Ginny, worked and polished their 160-acre farm, raising fine Angus cattle all the time I was growing up---even until about five years ago when a mad mother cow squeezed Werner up against a chute and cut off his breathing for too long. I sat with her in the local hospital emergency room after the accident. Werner died the next morning after being air-lifted to a Spokane hospital.

June has had a tough time dealing with his loss, but she's been a trooper. She's had help from her kids and grandchildren. And, she's been a regular at the local health club where she and Werner used to go just about every day before his death. With tears streaming down her face, she told me last week that it's been hard to sit on that farm and watch it fall apart.

"When a post went bad in the fence, Werner would be right out there to fix it," she recalled. "I just can't do that. And the grandkids---they can't come up here and make it on the farm. So, it was best to sell it."

I have many memories of times spent with the Paulets during my childhood. Some were good; some may have been along the impish lines. And speaking of lines, I had to remind June last week of the party line shared by several North Boyer residents, like the Robersons, the Bests, the Paulets, the Delamarters, the Carters and the Tibbs.

That meant some good listening for idle teenagers looking for some innocent? trouble. One day I picked up the phone when June was trying to talk to a friend. The imp of the perverse set in immediately. I began to blow fake but somewhat muffled farts into the telephone mouthpiece.

"Marianne Brown, you get off this line!" June barked after the second or third intrusion. Knowing that if I hung up immediately, she would know for sure that I was the guilty party. So, I just quit blowing the farts and kept on listening. I still, to this day, don't know how she recognized my attempt at anal intonations.

We did laugh about the incident among several mutual friends at last week's going-away luncheon for June at Slate's Restaurant. The Cow Belles (or Cattle Women as they're now called) made her their guest of honor and gave her a full-color photo of the lake.

If we can catch her home before she pulls out for Salmon later this week, Mother and I will go say good bye and give her our gift. We hope it will always remind her of the good life she spent as one of the illustrious North Boyer farm clan.

With her move, only the Robersons remain on that road which provided us all with such a golden past.