HUNT AND SADDLE CLUB

Years ago Barbara Bush, who was one of my favorite first ladies, Hillary is the other, wrote a book called "Millie's Book" which was about life in the Bush family through the eyes of the first dog, Millie. It is a funny and cute book that pokes fun at just about everything.

At one point, while recounting the long list of George H W Bush's jobs in public service , Millie muses that George must not be able to hold down a job. As I keep telling about all the previous jobs I have held, I can't help but think of that line of Millie's and that you probably are thinking the same thing. Couldn't Patti hold a job? However if you consider that I worked for 48 years, and that two of those jobs ate up 29 years, I wasn't really a serial job hopper. That did leave 19 years of floundering about though.

My last job came after I retired from the state. I really wanted some extra play money and wasn't yet comfortable in the role of "retiree." About one mile from where I lived, there was a beautiful gated community that catered to hunting and riding folks. I had been inside many times for high bill complaints when I worked for the power company and yes, the wealthy also hate high light bills.

Miles of dirt roads wound through pine forest and oak hammocks. There were almost 50 miles of riding trails for the horse lovers and acres of hunting areas. The homes were on the minimum of 2.5 acre lots and were beautiful. Some were cabins and some sprawling estates. Not marble and glass though for they had to conform to the country setting and be approved by the board of directors. Even the color they painted their barn was regulated. It was the regulations that would have strangled me but it did not stop me enjoying the beauty. The people who lived there were of the wealthy, woodsy sort.

The Club had the obligatory club house , swimming pool and tennis courts but it also sported its own airstrip. I often told the Realtors that they did not have to "sell" the homes and lots. All they had to do was drive the prospective buyers past the gate house and the place sold itself. It was a high priced paradise.

Deer and turkey were everywhere except during hunting season. Then the hunting areas were barren and the wild life were all gathered safely around the homes of the more benign residents who put out food for the wild creatures. A war of words was constantly waged between the animal lovers and the hunters.

Working there as a gatekeeper had been in the back of my mind for a long time. The closeness to my home, and the fact that I would only worked three, 12 hour days a week appealed. That gave me 4 days a week to play. However for those 12 hours, I was confined to the guard house with no breaks. My job would be to charm and protect.

True, while there was a bathroom, two way radio, phone,TV, A/C and a microwave, it was still pretty confining and isolated. That I was surrounded by beautiful woods helped as well as the delightful residents that I tended to hold on to as they came through.

There were 300, two and a half acre lots in the club and a large percentage were occupied or visited regularly. On an average day 200 cars passed through the gates but in a 12 hour day that only amounted to not quite 17 cars an hour. You really had to be content with your own company, which fortunately I am.

I basically had to memorize almost 300 owners, their spouses, their 2.5 kids, relatives, their cars, their friends and employees. My job was to allow only the approved persons through the gates. Simple huh? Did I mention I was 62? I had always been a bit smug about my memory but this was a challenge and I was way past my peak.

A month into the job, I was driving to town one day when I saw someone I had known for years pass by. We did the usual wave but then it dawned on me that I could not remember his name. I reasoned that I had crammed my mind so full of new names, that some of the old ones, just leaked out. Seems my brain had reached capacity. My memory smugness took a dive.

On the whole, the residents were totally delightful people that I became fond of and I have kept in touch with several since I moved to Arkansas via the Internet. The only time the job got unpleasant was during election time of the Board of Directors. As with all politics, the residents became sharply divided. I had to play like Sweden and remain neutral.

You have now met the Club. In the future, I will tell some stories of that delightful yet complicated place that existed as its own tiny county.