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I don't really remember much about growing up in Farmington. We lived on a small ranch, and we went out to the reservation when I was about two-and-a-half, three-and-a-half. We had to cross the San Juan River, because there was only one bridge at that time, and that was way down at Shiprock, and there were no roads, just trails. So when we went out to the reservation, we went up to--there were not many places where you could cross the San Juan River at that time, because that was before they put in the big dam, and it was quite--in the springtime, it flooded, and it was very difficult. You had to know where to cross it, or you'd get bogged down in the quicksand. And so my uncles went with us and we went up to where we would cross the river, and my father had a very special horse which he trusted. So he took my sister and I--my sister was about one-and-a-half at the time--took her in front in the saddle, and I sat behind him, and we went across the river, forded the river. And then when we got across the river.... Well, my uncle helped us get across the river. Then when we got across the river, we were in a covered wagon, we had to carry our own food and all of our supplies. And as I recall, we had a crateload of chickens. That was very necessary, because there were no places to buy eggs or anything of the sort out there on the reservation
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