Death takes Pat Ward of Fall Creek Ranch
Sunday, July 29th, 2007
My friend, Pat Ward, the grand lady of Fall Creek Ranch, which straddles the Oregon/California border, died Saturday. Her beloved horse of many years, Navarro Prim, was found dead in a field by a family member just a few days before Pat’s death. Earlier this year, John Silveira wrote an article about her ranch (Jan/Feb 2007, Issue No. 103) “The modern day small family ranch.” In the article is a photo of Pat Ward, at age 79, on her horse as she took part in a cattle roundup.
The family will have a pot luck at the ranch this Saturday to celebrate her life. John Silveira and I will attend. I’ve posted a photo of Pat in her kitchen from the 1980s. I was in that kitchen many times in the 1980s as I built a house about a half mile from hers that essentially launched BHM. Pat was a marvelous lady. Silveira has been in frequent contact with her in recent months as she battled cancer.
Death becomes a more frequent visitor as we get older. I’m 63 and I’ve seen a lot of friends die. Those of you who are my age know what I mean. It’s just the natural order of things. Still, it’s very sad and disconcerting when nature changes everything so drastically. I don’t mourn people anymore; I celebrate their life with the friends who are left. I’ll be especially glad to get together with my good friend, Gerry Barry, Pat’s brother, this Saturday.
I think hard work is the key to success in all endeavors in life. Since we arrived home late Friday night, we’ve been doing house and yard chores: vacuuming, sweeping, and washing clothes inside, and mowing, weedwacking, gardening, and watering trees outside. My family likes a tidy place, inside and out, so we do this sort of family work project every time we come back from a trip. It took the five of us most of the day today. The boys each have a machine they like to operate: Jake the weed eater, Robby the power mower, and Sam the blower. Lenie likes to work in the garden, of course, and I like riding my big mower. As we were finishing up our many chores today, you could feel the family’s group satisfaction in a job well done. It occurred to me that these work projects, and the gratification my three boys, Jake, Rob, and Sam, get from them are probably the most valuable lessons Lenie and I could be giving them. They have seen us work very hard all their lives, and we have made comfortable lives and a good business with our hard work. Now we are showing them how to do the same. They recognize hard work as an essential ingredient of a successful life. I got my work ethic from my parents, as did Lenie. My parents were of Irish immigrant stock, but their hard work enabled them to meld into American society well. They never got rich, but their five kids never wanted for anything either. Their children–me and my siblings–applied the work ethic learned at home to their own lives, and now Lenie and I are passing on the same teaching to our children. I think it becomes a personal thing: I want my property and my business to reflect the view I have of myself as a hard working person, just like my father and mother did, and just as I hope my children will. What could be simpler. Hard work underlies success!
