Bob Wills in New Mexico

Mural honoring Bob Wills in Roy, New Mexico (Sixgun Siding)

(ilovenewmexicoblog.com) My daddy grew up in Porter, New Mexico, the youngest of ten children. He delights in telling what I think of as "baby of the family" stories (I have a number of my own. . .), about how the older brothers used to torture him by hiding behind the tank and jumping out to frighten him when he had to walk to the windmill after dark to turn the pump off, or how he sometimes had to stay in and help Granny Terry in the house because he was the baby.
Or how he had to be the designated driver of my Grandpa Terry's 1936 Ford sedan when his older brothers and the local boys wanted to go to Tucumcari to tomcat around during World War II. When he was eleven years old. Continued

Outbuildings: Chicken Coop

 

Looks like a chicken coop to me. I read that, before pesticides, people would fumigate with a smoldering fire in a bowl, placed in the empty coop.

Old House 154

Porter, New Mexico

Old House 153

Porter, New Mexico

Old House 151

Porter, New Mexico

Mystery Building in Porter, NM

 

I don't know what this building was used for. It looks like a post office, but according to "Place Names of New Mexico" (both versions), there wasn't a post office in Porter in 1929. It could have been a store, or even a house. BTW, this is the Porter in Quay County, not one of the other 2 Porters in the state. If you know what it was, please write me at mu23@msn.com.

Old House 150

Porter, New Mexico

Bob Wills in New Mexico

Mural honoring Bob Wills in Roy, New Mexico (Sixgun Siding)

(ilovenewmexicoblog.com) My daddy grew up in Porter, New Mexico, the youngest of ten children. He delights in telling what I think of as "baby of the family" stories (I have a number of my own. . .), about how the older brothers used to torture him by hiding behind the tank and jumping out to frighten him when he had to walk to the windmill after dark to turn the pump off, or how he sometimes had to stay in and help Granny Terry in the house because he was the baby.
Or how he had to be the designated driver of my Grandpa Terry's 1936 Ford sedan when his older brothers and the local boys wanted to go to Tucumcari to tomcat around during World War II. When he was eleven years old. Continued