Chapter One:
About Ray
I wish to write a few lines so in later years when my children and
grandchildren are older, they will have a better understanding of their
grandparents.
My mother's maiden name was Dunn and the Dunn family all gave advice freely
to everyone, as is characteristic of different families, and this is why I wish
to leave a little advice to my children and grandchildren if at all possible.
Also, I never knew very much about my ancestors because many of them died early
in life. I only knew one grandmother and she of course was very dear to me.
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I'll start my story as most stories go. I was born the eldest of two sons on
October 20, 1917 in a log cabin to Mr. and Mrs. Glen Miller. It was located 20
miles south of Poplar, Montana, section 27-25-51, the place where we now live
(1957).
I've always wanted to keep a diary, but never seemed to have the time, as my
life has always been a hurried one with too much to do, it seems. I always live
pretty much in the future-a lot more than in the past. When I was 4 years old,
my parents moved nearby to another farm just seven miles away, where I was
raised and spent all my boyhood days. My father taught me how to ride behind him
in the saddle on horseback and my whole life has been spent riding most of the
time, more or less. I raised cattle and horses the major portion of my life to
the present time at least and now we are thinking of making a change.
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I sure do want my children to have it better than I've had it. There are a
few health habits that they should always abide by. Sleep with windows open if
at all possible and get plenty of rest. I heard of a man who was 108 years old
and when asked why he lived so long he said it was because he slept outside and
it surely has some bearing on your health. I always liked to be out of doors in
the open air, but I didn't always sleep with a window open. In regards to rest,
as a young man I used to go out many Saturday nights dancing all night and go
right to work Sunday mornings, work all day and then go to bed Monday morning
about 2 or 3 a.m. Why I did these things I'll never know, but I hope my children
will profit by my mistakes and listen to someone older than they are.
When I was nine years old, I went to bed with a severe case of pneumonia. The
doctor was called and gave me some medicine to take, there being no penicillin
in those days. I was flat on my back for a long time and I lived on medicines of
many kinds and a little soda pop. When I couldn't get my breath, Mother would
fan me with a homemade fan. Finally the doctor said there was no hope anymore
and my parents felt there was a way to get me well as any good parent would. My
parents contacted three other doctors thinking if there is life, there is hope.
They thought if there was faith all would be well again. My father went to see
one last doctor and he told Dad to bring me to a house in Wolf Point being used
as a hospital. Everyone feared I wouldn't be able to stand the trip, but I did
and I went into surgery at once. The doctor removed a large pus pocket from my
lung (with little or no anesthetic). If it hadn't been for a good surgeon and a
strong heart, I wouldn't be writing this story. I slowly regained my
strength and health. I'm sure my parents did a lot of praying and ask the Lord
for his help. I lived through the ordeal and have led a healthy happy life.
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My memory only goes back to when I was 4 years old my dad bought the Newman
homestead and we moved there in summer of 1921. I can remember Dad always put me
on the horse in front of him when he went to wrangle the workhorses each
morning. Another thing I can remember when I was 7 years and it was the 4th
of July in 1921. The community where we lived had a large picnic for all the settlers;
about twenty families lived in the area at that time. The gathering was held at
the John Olson Ranch on Main Redwater Creek among a large grove of beautiful Elm
trees, about three miles west of where we lived. It was a wonderful picnic held
for many years. In the afternoon there came a large black cloud to the
sky and Dad decided we better head for home with the team and buggy. We got
within a half mile from home when the cloud let go a burst of rain. Mom and
Dad sat in the buggy seat and sat me down in the front at their feet. Just
before we turned into our driveway, the lane crossed a steep ravine and as the
team trotted through the creek, the water came into the box of the buggy. Of
course Mother grabbed me up into her lap. I still remember that water coming
in the buggy box; I guess it's those scary events that impress one's memory the
most.
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