Alta Grace in her trademark red blouse.
Superheroes are all the rage today. Now I’m not saying Alta Grace Rainbolt was a superhero, but she did have something in common with Batman and Superman. She had an alter ego.
My Mom, Alta Grace Rainbolt, came from pioneer stock. She was a fourth generation Texan. Despite her pedigree, she lived a happily urban life in San Antonio attending church and prayer meetings wearing coiffed hair and designer dresses, but on the weekends, she transformed in Ranch Woman.
Alta with her quarter horse, Sam.
Mom loved all animals. Well, most animals. As kids, Art, Margaret and I brought home dogs, lizards, frogs, parakeets, owls and eventually cats, cows and horses…BUT NO SNAKES.
Snakes, Why’d it Have to be Snakes
Once someone brought a large rescued grass snake to us in a paper bag to release outside of town. The harmless three-foot managed to punch a hole in his prison and make his escape. He curled up in the corner of the porch next to the front door waiting for a quiet moment so he could discretely slither away. Mom picked up the empty paper bag and asked, “Where did the snake go?” I pointed at her feet. “Behind you,” I told her. She turned white and nearly passed out. Mom was scared to death of snakes.
Mom struts her stuff at the Green Door fashion show.
Not Southfork, Green Acres
In the mid-1960s, Dad bought a ranch southeast of our home in San Antonio. Now when most people think of a Texas ranches, think of Southfork, but if you really want an accurate television reference, it would be more like the 1960s sitcom Green Acres. No corral, no house, no fence, no running water and worst of all, no bathroom…not even an outhouse.
Dad played the Eddie Albert character, a successful business executive who buys property in the middle of nowhere. In the show Eva Gabor played Mom’s part. The beautiful sophisticated coiffed wife who loved the city (or in Mom’s case, she loved her church, St. Luke’s.) Unlike Eva Gabor’s character, Mom was a fabulous cook. The first time Mom went with Dad to the ranch, she wore a very nice house dress, pantyhose and 1½-inch pumps.
In the early days Alta Grace cleared away brush wearing pantyhose, 1-1/2-inch pumps and a house dress.
Over the years, she turned into the Ranch Woman her pioneer ancestors would have been very proud of. Alta Grace cut brush, built roads, herded cows, rode horses, drove a tractor, baled hay and even installed a new roof on the ranch’s first structure, a one-room cabin with no bathroom.
Mom plowing the front pasture to make hay.
The ranch is home to a whole host of wildlife including poisonous and nonpoisonous snakes. The poisonous snakes include copperheads and Texas’ most venomous snake, the coral snake. It’s a skinny little rope-like snake that greatly resembles a harmless king snake. Dad taught us an old rhyme to help keep the two reptiles straight. “Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, poison lack.”
Mom loved her cows, especially the babies.
Texas Women Shoot Their Own Snakes
On of my favorite t-shirts says, “Texas women shoot their own snakes.” I love it. It reminds me of Mom.
One of the last weekends I spent at the ranch visiting with my folks (about ten years ago), I spied Mom through the sliding glass door. She was bending over at the waist and holding a hoe in her hand. I opened the door and asked, “Whatcha doing, Mom?” She pointed at the ground and said very casually, “Oh, I just killed a coral snake.” Indeed, after examining the body of the ex-snake I found that red touched yellow. Alta Grace Rainbolt didn’t need no stinkin’ gun to take out venomous snakes. She did it with a hoe! Mom’s transformation into Ranch Woman was complete.
Red touch yellow, kill a fellow.
Just as Jesus was fully God and fully man, Mom was fully elegant lady and fully Ranch Woman. To prove it she conquered her greatest fear wearing 1½-inch pumps and coiffed hair.
Love ya, Mom. You were one of a kind.
Alta Grace celebrates my birthday last year.
Last photo I took of Mom, a selfie left to right: Dusty, Alta Grace, sister Margaret. I’m glad I get to remember her this way. Yes, she still got her hair done.
Beautiful tribute of your Superhero mom, Dusty!
Thanks Arden.
I didn’t know about her alter ego as Ranch Woman. What a wonderful lady. Thanks for a great description of Alta Grace. She was and is dearly loved.
Easy to see where you get your spunk from. Lovely tribute to her. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
Awesome Eulogy Dusty- hope you smile when you read it. Love you
Brilliant tribute! I’m so glad I got to talk to her on the phone last year. I’ll always hear her voice in my head saying, “Well, Debbie … how ya doin’, darlin’!”