I was five years old in 1914 when John, my stepfather, took us to visit one of the old Pochi families that he knew. They lived at a dairy ranch near Saticoy. My brother and sisters went there also. The grown-ups sat around and talked. I got bored with that and decided to go explore. The place smelled like poop. I didn’t mind the smell, there was just a lot of it around, mountains of it. The cows did not seem to mind stomping around in it. Neither did I.
There were tall fences and I couldn’t help myself, or stop myself from climbing up. The cows were inside this large fenced off area. They were eating hay. There was also a huge barrel of water for them. I got bored so I wandered off to see what else was there. I found a tall building where the cows went to get…
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