Category: Holidays

If Your Dad Is Still Alive: Hug Him Today!
Dad · Holidays · Memories · Mom · MY LIFE · My Thoughts · square dance

If Your Dad Is Still Alive: Hug Him Today!

Larada Horner-Miller2 Comments
Dad, as a young man
Dad, as a young man

If your dad is still alive today—hug him! My dad died January 6, 1996, thirty years ago. I would love to hear his voice, smell his leathery sweat from his cowboy shirt and hat, and hug his lean firm body.

My Thoughts Today

As I’ve thought about writing this blog on Father’s Day 2026, I have lingered over the loss of my dad. After thirty years, you might think I was over the pain, the loss, but no! If I could dance once more with him and do his unique dance steps he taught Mom and me, I would celebrate.

More of His Cowboy Life

Dad riding his favorite horse, Rusty
Dad riding his favorite horse, Rusty

Dad led a full rich rancher’s life. He worked besides his dad until Granddad died November 6, 1966. They didn’t always agree on everything, but they had a system that worked.

After Granddad died, Mom stepped in to be his right-hand woman. Daily she went with him to the ranch, doing whatever the season required: feeding cattle and digging out of snow drifts in the winter, calving in the spring, preparing for shipping calves in the fall, and stepping back to relax in the summer. His eyes lit up when he bragged on how much she helped.

He loved his brand, Lazy H Spear Point. He put this on the calves when he branded them each spring. Yes, it hurt. I remember the smell of the hair burning, but the state required it to protect the ranchers from cattle rustling. You can see it on Dad’s tie in the first picture above.

Dad and Granddad ran Herefore cattle. He often said, “My favorite colors in the world are red, white and green: Hereford cattle in a green pasture.”

Dad & Mom’s Dance Life

Dad and Mom danced whenever and wherever they could. Remember, they met on the dance floor. They loved the local country and western dances in the Branson gym. I remember watching them glide across the dance floor so fluid and graceful—to me they competed with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Dad always had a dance or two for me. And he often danced with nieces and great nieces. At many dances around the area, they had a tradition of exchanging dances with other couples too.

 Often after the Branson dances, they hosted After Parties at our house. I remember the living room and dining room overflowing with friends, laughter and alcohol!

They also loved to square dance. Dad was our 4-H club caller and taught many members to square dance. They traveled hundreds of miles to dance and made lifelong friends with square dancers all over southeastern Colorado, northeastern New Mexico and beyond.

Dad Loved to Travel The USA

When we were growing up, Dad didn’t have the means to travel much. When I was ten years old, we did a trip to San Diego, California to my half-brother’s graduation. While there, we went to Disneyland and had an amazing trip.

Later in my teen years, we made other trips to San Diego for Christmas.

After I left home, I went with Mom and Dad on several local trips around Colorado and New Mexico. We also traveled to California to see us family out there. On almost every trip we took, he had several rules: get up early and travel until about 10:30 PM each night. I fought with him to stop earlier so I could enjoy the motel’s swimming pool. Once he did and I had a blast. Another rule he had—we could only be gone a week. Dad was such a country boy; he couldn’t accept being away from home and the ranch for very long.

They traveled to Nashville on a tour and had an amazing time.

Dad Loved His Family

Dad was a family man. He took care of his parents until their dying days.

He had three children with his first wife and two with my mom. They had nine grandchildren and I’ve lost count of the great grandchildren. He did not live to see many of his great grandchildren.

Holiday gatherings like Thanksgiving and Christmas meant the world to him. He never joined us in the games around the round table in the dining room, but often I saw him laughing a long with us and keeping up with the conversation going around the table.

Finally,

I long for another dance around the gym floor in Branson, in his arms as he leads me through the waltz or two-step. Anytime I heard “In the Mood” at a dance with Dad, I would grab him to dance because that’s the rhythm he did his unusual movement. Oh, to do that again!!!

But mostly I’d like a hug, a bear hug and a whisper in his ear, “Happy Father Day.” I know his reaction—he’d smile and snuggle close and say, “Shorty, I love you.” You can’t beat that!

Is your dad alive? Hug him if he’s near. Call him if he lives away from you. Celebrate him today! And let me know what you did!

My Last Dance With Dad!
My Last Dance With Dad!

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How My Dad Became a Real Cowboy
Dad · family · Holidays · My Thoughts

How My Dad Became a Real Cowboy

Larada Horner-MillerLeave a comment
My Cowboy Dad
My Cowboy Dad

Because it’s June, I want to share more about Dad. Father’s Day is coming next Sunday, so I’m still celebrating him. His family transplanted from Tulsa, Oklahoma to Branson, Colorado because of my his health.

Dad Immediately Loved It!

Dad & Aunt Helen on their horse in 1927
Aunt Helen on their horse with Dad in 1927
Dad on a different horse in 1930
Dad on a different horse in 1930
Dad & Aunt Helen dressed to ride
Dad & Aunt Helen dressed to ride

Somehow very soon, Granddad bought Dad and Aunt Helen a horse and Dad’s life was changed forever more. They moved in April 1927 and they had their first horse by May 1927. He never told any stories of a horse in Oklahoma. They lived in the city, so I don’t think it wasn’t possible.

He quickly learned to ride, and any time my grandparents needed to find him, they just looked for him and his horse. Because he was a natural, horseback riding became his major hobby.

He attended Branson school and graduated there in 1937. I loved to hear his stories about tricks and antics they pulled on the superintendent and other students. Somehow a car ended up on the roof. They turned over many outhouses, and were surprised if someone was in it then.

It was a carefree life.

The Horner Ranch Started

Granddad as mail carrier in blizzard in 1930 - Dad
Granddad as mail carrier in blizzard in 1930

My grandparents, dad and aunt arrived in Colorado in 1927. Granddad immediately realized he had an edge on the other ranchers in the area because he had a job working for the post office, delivery mail to the ranchers east of town. He started buying land and cattle in 1927. Granddad wheeled and dealt with the bank for loans and worried about increasing his debt. Also, he dealt with other ranchers in the area who were building their ranches too.

When the depression hit in 1929, Granddad’s postal job really helped him buy up land and pay off the loans he accrued. And Dad enjoyed every minute of the ranching life Granddad provided for him.

World War II & Being a 4-F

Horses, ranching and cattle became Dad’s life. After he graduated, he went to work with Granddad on the ranch he had put together, and he worked it for the rest of his life.

When World War II hit, Dad stayed home while many of his friends went to fight the war. He rated a 4-F because of his health—the asthma.  When he shared these stories, he had shame about it, but he found a way to serve. He did day labor on ranches around the area whose sons went to war.

Dad loved to work on Louden ranch, east of Branson, near Mesa de Maya. He had hilarious stories about working there and having lunch with Dick and Zita Louden. I think his presence helped them with the ranch work, but it also diverted their worries away from their sons being gone.

Dad told stories about going to Trinidad, Las Animas County seat, to get tires for the ranch truck. They rationed the tires, so he had to be wise about what he did. The man ahead of him in line told the judge he needed four tires and the judge said that was excessive, so he shooed him out of the courthouse. Dad listened and asked for two and got two. He thought he was pretty smart learning from the other man’s greed.

Dad’s First Marriage

He married Nell Williams from Walsenburg, Colorado. They lived in a house near our ranch’s headquarters. They had three children but divorced in 1946. During this time, he grew his herd but lost half of it with the divorce.

Dad spent five years single but having his children as often as possible. Nell moved to Denver, so they were 250 miles away. Around this time, his sister divorced, so he stepped in helped with her two sons.

In fact, I was visiting with her eldest son today, and he said, “Your dad, Granddad and Grandma raised me because Mom was too busy.”

Dad ventured out in his cattle buying during these and some years he did well and others he lost money.

Life Changed for Dad

So in 1949, life changed for Dad. He met my mom at a dance and he was smitten. She had eyed his dance moves and wanted to dance with him but worried she couldn’t keep up. One night he sauntered across the dance floor to a group of young ladies. Mom hoped he chose her, but she wasn’t sure.

He did, and they became a couple.

One night they had plans to go to the Crystal Lounge in Raton, New Mexico and dance. The owner knew Mom was underage, so he threw them out. Apparently, she hadn’t been truthful with Dad about her age. Dad stayed away for a year until she turned 21 and. . .

Finally,

Yes, my dad became a real cowboy—he smelled of sweat, leather and manure. I’ll keep the story going next week with what happened with my parents.

For more of my dad’s story and how my Granddad put our ranch together during the depression, check out my book I co-created with Dad and Mom, Let Me Tell You a Story. It’s available as paperback, e-book and audiobook format.

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Was It a Dream?: Navigating Life’s Journey Through Poetry, Book #1 – e-book

ISBN – 979-8989688630

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Milk or Water? That’s the Question!
family · My Thoughts · Thanksgiving

Milk or Water? That’s the Question!

Larada Horner-Miller2 Comments
Woman with turkey - milk

Milk or water? That’s the question my Aunt Willie & Mom argued about for fixing turkey gravy. This Thanksgiving I remembered their good-natured disagreement. Immediately memories flooded me of Thanksgivings past.

When I asked Lin what he wanted to do for Thanksgiving this year, he said, “Let’s cook a turkey!” So, we did! I bought all the ingredients needed (yet missed some), and wondered how I would fare with my hurting foot and leg.

The Week Before Thanksgiving

On Monday we got the turkey out of the freezer and put it in the frig. Then on Tuesday Lin put it in cold water in the sink, changing the water repeatedly.

To cut what I needed to do Thanksgiving Day, I made the cranberry sauce from scratch on Wednesday evening. It was at this point that Mom’s presence overcame me. She taught me how to do this, assuring me that it was quite easy. After Lin faced diabetes a few years ago, I traded out the cup of sugar with a cup of Monk fruit. Yes, I smiled once again at being in the kitchen with her, preparing a holiday meal. I felt her presence at my elbow.

Thanksgiving Day – Milk or Water?

Then on Thanksgiving morning, we got up and played our daily two cribbage games then turned on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and watched part of it. I took time away to join my meditation group to ground me for the day. The leader read Mary Oliver’s poem, Gratitude, for the inspirational part before we meditated. I loved all the questions Oliver asked in her poem then answered with nature:

  • What did you notice?
  • What did you hear?
  • When did you admire?
  • What astonished you?
  • What would you like to see again?
  • What was most tender?
  • What was most wonderful?
  • What did you think was happening?
Gratitude by Mary Oliver

Throughout the day, I asked myself, “What did you notice?”

Then I peeled the potatoes and covered them in water. I prepared the green bean casserole and grabbed a shower and dressed.

For years, we have cooked our turkey in a cooking bag in a roaster. It cuts the cooking time considerably and the meat is moist. My cousin, Jan, taught me this trick.

So we got the turkey in the roaster at 11:00 AM. I bought a twenty-pound turkey (yes, just us two but we love turkey!) So, it wouldn’t be done until about 2:00 PM.

Because of that, I delayed cooking the potatoes to mash, but when I did get started my time management worked out beautifully.

Next, I cooked the sweet potatoes in the microwave. You may wonder why! Mom died in March 2013, so I cooked my first Christmas dinner in years that year. I had bought fresh sweet potatoes and we went to Branson. I hate canned sweet potatoes! So, I had to figure how to do them from scratch. So I cooked the sweet potatoes in the microwave, peeled them afterwards. Yes, they were hot and I had to be careful not to burn my hands.

So that tradition started in 2013 for me! And I have continued over the years to this year. After cooking and peeling them, I cut them up and prepared the dish for candied yams, but I forgot to buy the marshmallows to top the dish. I told Lin and he found a container of marshmallow crème in our pantry and I used the crème and it worked.

Then I cooked the potatoes and mashed them. Lin likes them sort of lumpy, so I left them that way.

I put the sweet potatoes and green bean casserole in the oven at the same time. Then I cooked the stuffing (yes, I use Stove Top), but I grilled celery to add something extra to the stuffing. The first batch I grilled, I burned, so I did a second and they turned out great.

I felt Mom smiling. She never judged any mistake I made in the kitchen.

Mom & Aunt Willie - milk
Mom & Aunt Willie

But Mom really came to mind front and center when I got to the gravy. Yes, I made the gravy from scratch. Mom and Aunt Willie had a fun argument going on in their later years: was it water or milk you add to gravy? Being raised by the same mother, this often made me shake my head and wonder—why the question?

As I made the gravy, I asked, “Water or milk?” and laughed. I heard Mom’s sweet laughter echo around the kitchen. I have such fond memories of those two elder ladies joyfully arguing about that question.

Me & Mon - milk
Me & Mom

As I finished up the preparation of the gravy, I stepped back so thankful for all the precious Thanksgiving memories I have: the water/gravy question, fun hours sitting around our round table in Branson, Colorado playing games and laughing, and trips to the Boulder Dinner Theater with Mom and Dad.

Finally,

Yes, Mom joined me in my kitchen this Thanksgiving—in my spirit and in my soul!

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Gratitude, Thanksgiving & Immigrants!
family · Gratitude · My Thoughts · Thanksgiving

Gratitude, Thanksgiving & Immigrants!

Larada Horner-MillerLeave a comment
Happy Thanksgiving - gratitude

Gratitude has become a key ingredient in my life plan, and Thanksgiving reminds me to be grateful for all my blessings. Today I look back at my humble beginnings from an illegal immigrant!

Gratitude & First Thanksgiving

As a child, I remember being taught how the pilgrims celebrated that first Thanksgiving with the Natives. They shared food and probably were saved by the produce from the Natives.

So, anytime I think of that original Thanksgiving, I picture a peaceful picturesque setting with those first “illegal” immigrants eating with those who they had invaded.

Gratitude & My Family Story

All my life, I relished any time my mom told the story of how her great-grandfather Frank Joe Ulbig immigrated here from Germany (Prussia) as a stowaway in a ship, so there’s no record of his entrance into the United States. I checked Ellis Island when I was there in the 90s—no record. Mom had checked Ellis Island and New Orleans long distance—no record there either.

War raged in Prussia at the time Ulbig immigrated, unsettled times for that part of the world.

“The Franco-Prussian War or Franco-German War, often referred to in France as the War of 1870, was a conflict between the Second French Empire and the North German Confederation led by the Kingdom of Prussia.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franco-Prussian_War

Probably about twenty years old, Ulbig must have heard he would be welcomed in the United States but didn’t have the money to pay passage across the ocean. His only option: stowaway!

What if Prussia and Austria swapped? – Europe in 1860
byu/CaptainCakeEater inimaginarymaps

I think Mom said both him and future wife, Tresia Sieger, immigrated illegally as stowaways.

Before, this story seemed romantic and far off. Recently, it has taken a different spin for me! I can imagine Ulbig’s despair and urgent need to leave Prussia and get to the United States.

Mom & Travel to Eastern Europe

During the 70s, Mom really got into genealogy for both sides of our family. She researched and sent letters, doing all her research prior to the internet. Since then, I have an ancestry.com account and love the resources they provide.

After my dad’s death in 1996, Mom realized a dream-come-true. In 1999, we talked about a trip to Germany. I gave her the travel brochure and let her decide which trip we would take. Here I thought we would go to Germany only. She selected a trip to Eastern Europe which included Germany, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, and Austria.

Later I realized why she chose that—her great-grandfather was from Prussia which was eastern Germany, so she wasn’t satisfied to just visit Germany. She had spent countless hours trying to find more information about this mysterious man.

A Serendipity in Berlin

When we got to Berlin, the previous capital of Prussia, we did the city tour, then we went out in the city on our own walking. When we came upon a phone booth, I looked in and it had a phone book, so we found the name, Ulbig, and she squealed! We saw almost a whole page of Ulbigs in Berlin. Could they all be relatives? How could we connect with them?

As she looked at it and longed to connect, I said, “I don’t know enough German to call anyone there.”

She sighed and turned and walked away, not thinking about possibilities!

“How about we tear that page out of the phone book?” I asked sheepishly.

“We can’t do that!” she exclaimed, then laughed because she knew her daughter.

“Oh, yes we can!” I laughed as I tore that page out of the book carefully. I handed it to her. She folded it methodically and put it in a safe place in the purse.

When we got home to family and friends, she proudly showed off her favorite souvenir from her trip—a page torn out of a phone book from Berlin, Germany with a list of Ulbigs.

Gratitude & Immigrants Today

A couple months ago, I told someone opposed to my political views this story. He looked at me in disdain which didn’t shock me. He couldn’t celebrate my story.

I’m proud of my heritage and the tenacity they showed to make their dreams come true, buck the odds and do whatever they had to do to get here. They ended up in Montague, Texas. My side of the family moved north to northern New Mexico and the rest is history.

Finally,

Yes, I have a strong affinity for immigrants. I have gratitude for what I’ve experienced in this country. I try to take some time on Thanksgiving Day to remember what this country has as its foundation—our founding fathers were illegal immigrants that took this country by storm. And today, I celebrate my strong lineage, dedicated to a new life and new future in a distant land.

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