My Story

Chapter 1

Standing in front of the Eiffel Tower on this clear midnight, my eyes sparkled with joy.
The handsome man, taking my picture under the spring blossoms? My husband Randall.
It was our 10th anniversary.
It was one of those moments, I will never forget.
Filled with gratitude, I felt humbled.
How did a little country girl from Bakersfield get here,
standing here in front of the man of my dreams, under the ultimate symbol of romance?

To tell the truth of it all, I was not as much of a country girl as thought at this time!

This is me! Eiffel Tower, Paris France, April, 3, 1981

The next time we were blessed to go to Paris, I knew I was a direct descendant of Charlemagne,

 Eleanor of Aquitaine, and many other Kings and Queens. How can a family go from Kings to cowboys? How can a family go from Oxford, England to Bakersfield, California?  I am a pragmatic person, and had to have proof on paper, and DNA. Over and over again. I just could not comprehend the magnitude of this accurate historical truth. I was astonished and I still am! Randall was just as excited about it all. 

With this, I am still a country girl, and take pride in being so!

Every girl has a crown, and is a child of the King!

This is me! Eiffel Tower, Paris France, 2013.
Again, my awesome husband, snapped this photo!
We are a bit older! On this day we climbed to the top!

So how did a little girl like me come into such a future?
I once heard God described as the Hound of Heaven.
If you know nothing about hunting hounds, you won't get it.
 A hound loves & adores his master.
He wants to please his master by his hunting prowess.
He will never give up the hunt.
 In the end he will bring the
 prize, and lay it at his masters feet. 

 The most tenacious animal on earth is a hound.




My First 10 Years

My parents first met in Santa Cruz, California at a Free Methodist Youth Camp.
They married later, at Grandma and Grandpa Harwell's Cottage in Bakersfield.
It was meant to be!

After 18 months of marriage,

       I was born on March 31, 1953, in Santa Cruz California, at Sisters Hospital on West Cliff Drive. Having moved to Santa Cruz from Bakersfield a year before, for Dad's job at Standard Oil.
Did I mention my parents were teenagers?
They wanted to live by the beach. Though young, they were brilliant.
They brought me home from the hospital, to a beautiful beach cottage also on West Cliff Drive.
 They were everything parents should be, but we did not go to Church or Sunday School as most of America did in those days. 

Mama and me at the West Cliff Drive cottage!

 Mama lived in the same house most of her life.
 My Grandparents owned a small farm on the outskirts of Tulare.
 She says her childhood was perfect. She played the piano, wrote songs, and sang like an angel. Everyone calls my mama by her middle name, "Carolyn." Sweet natured, quiet, funny, artistic, beautiful, she was and is loved by all.
 Her parents were Scottish and Welsh!

The Donaldson Clan

Grandpa Grover, Benny Ruth, Carolyn, Grandma, and Cordell in the center.

 Dad lived in the same cottage from the age of seven,
 and I too would come to call this place  home.'

It was on Park Drive in the "Sunkist" orange groves of Bakersfield.
  Dad was the youngest, growing up in a family with 7 boys & 1 girl.
He adored horses and cars. He is an all American cowboy. His name is Kenneth.
 He is of English decent. He is a Harwell. If asked to describe the "Harwell" family, especially daddy, think "John Wayne!"

There are many documents, papers, stories, going back 400 years on both mama and daddy's families.
 From Virginia to California, coming from Britain early 1600's.

 We are an "American Family."

When I was still a toddler my parents moved back to Bakersfield, to be closer to family.
I was one loved baby! My mother so adored babies, and I was her real life baby-doll.
They say your personality is completely formed by age 3, and the first 2 years of my life were absolutely what every child should have.

 The first house I recall became a "constant" for the rest of my life. The cottage on Park Drive. 

The same for my Dad.

 Grandma's cottage was always full of family, friends, and neighbors. 

The best cook, always adding another plate to the table. She was the epitome of a Grandmother.
A homemaker par excellence.
 I remember her putting big blocks on the Singer sewing machine peddle, as I begged her to sew.

 I started sewing at 5 years old.

  

Cheryl Ann Harwell

On April 2, 1955, two days after my 2nd Birthday, our lives changed.

 Sitting in the middle of Mommy & Daddy, in the front seat of the car, we were in a horrible auto accident. At the intersection of Park Drive & Pioneer Drive, a fast car t boned (crashed.) into the passenger side.

 We then ricocheted into a telephone pole.

 Dads chin broke the steering wheel, ( he still has the scar) from the impact.

 He shielded me, and I was not harmed at all, but my Mama, and the baby she was expecting any minute, were not expected to survive.
 My baby brother was born that day at Mercy Hospital.

 A great Catholic hospital, so sure my brother would die, they baptized him without my Protestant parents consent. But he didn't die. Thanks be to God and the Catholics.

My precious brother, Kenneth Stephen Harwell.

Steve and I

Mama had a very bad concussion, was broken & bruised & in the hospital for weeks.

 My brother Steve had epilepsy, cerebral palsy, and an injured leg, requiring multiple surgeries.

  So strong, young and courageous they coped well, with the help of family.

 Grandma always pitched in to help. We stayed at the cottage a great deal of the time.

 I started to school while there. Mama and my cousin Jody walked me to school that first day of Kindergarten.
Jody, one of the few girls in our family, 5 years older, lived in Saudi Arabia. Her daddy, my uncle Wallace worked for Standard Oil. We were so excited when they came home in the summers, bringing exotic gifts from around the world. They also stayed at the cottage when visiting.  Jody was and is SO cool! She has long red hair, slender, very beautiful. I will always remember her playing the the latest 45 rock and roll records, wearing the latest fashions, riding horses, and putting white surfer girl lipstick on me! I love her!

I came home from Kindergarten one day, to the baby sister I had been begging for!
"Leasa."

 I was beyond excited to have a new baby sister. She stunned us all, having a head full of exquisite red curls. Daddy, Mama, Steve and I, all blondes! Leasa's exquisite hair, a total surprise.
Grandma said it was passed down from her great Scottish Grandpa McPhearson.




3 little kids for the flavor!

By this time in my little life, I was like most American kids. It was all good in my eyes.

 Surrounded by a loving family, dogs, horses, in the sunshine and orange blossoms. 

Going to school, rodeo's, the beach, we stayed busy. On the weekends, I recall falling asleep, as Mama, Daddy, the Moseley's, and others played & sang country music half the night. 

Weekday's Mama and I watched "American Bandstand" after school. My mother's passion for music, flowed like a river into her children. It was at this time, I received the ultimate gift of my life up to this point. A genuine pocket sized transistor radio. Now my constant companion, under my pillow, each night. My folks kept the big radio on country music, then switched to rock & roll when the country station stopped at 6:00. That station is KUZZ!
 Music was in the air, all of the time at our house.

My Grandmothers read the Bible to us, but I rarely went to church with them. I do not recollect ever going  to church or Sunday School with my parents as a child. We didn't pray much. We prayed the "Now I lay me down to sleep," prayer at bedtime.
But I prayed anyway. I prayed hard for God to keep us safe. 

There would come a time, I stopped praying

Our lives were about to change again. When I was 6 years old, my parents bought a ranch just this side of the Mexican border, 50 miles from San Diego. Half owners of a huge spread.

This was a very adventurous & happy time for me. We had hogs, cattle, chickens, horses, dogs etc. The animal I respected the most was a magnificent Hereford bull aptly named "Bimbo"!  Once, after he was securely tied down in the truck bed,  I talked to him up close. He stayed calm, and I was sure he liked me. To this day I have never seen such a big bull. My daddy called me "fearless!"

Our Ranch supplied pork & beef to "Safeway," "Alpha Beta," & other markets. Over 1,000 head of Hogs in fresh air stalls and the barn. Divided into "wiener's," "feeder's," "fatner's," & "butcher's."
It was clean, on a hill far enough away from the house. Organic, before it was cool.
We hand slopped our hogs. It was hand feeding all the livestock 24/7!

Saving critter's was my passion. I raised a tiny orphaned piglet, "Pinky." "Uhootie," an owl chick,  "Peter cotton-tail" and "Pickle-puss," a Pomeranian dog.  She was little, but oh so strong.  One day she didn't come home.  We found her,  her left leg caught in a trap. It was broken & cut badly, but she completely recovered. Later she was bitten by a rattle snake, but was saved just in time. Again!

One day our dachshund "Gus,"saved my mothers life. She was going to take us to town, and he stood between her and the car door having a hissy fit. He was growling, snarling, barking, showing his teeth. He would not allow her to get near the car. "Kids, get away from the car," yelled mama.
  I screamed, "Look" as we saw a large rattle snake wrapped around the front hubcap on driver's side. We ran into the house, as mama grabbed her gun, then shot & killed the rattler.
We had a coffee can full of rattlers cut off from all the snakes they had to kill. 

Gus and mama saved us, then we went to town.

My brother Steve & I attended an American School in Mexico. It was for children like us, ranchers kids. This school was amazing. It truly enriched my life, giving me a great curiosity for diverse cultures.

Leasa, Steve, and me. This studio portrait was done in Tecate' Mexico. I had lost my front teeth. 

Mama cut my hair, and gave me Tony Home Permanent. She sewed my little Scottish plaid suit.

While on the ranch, mama learned to cook authentic Mexican food. This is why Mexican cuisine is my ultimate favorite meal, both to prepare and eat.

When we moved to the ranch, my folks worked very hard.

I didn't think of myself a little girl. I was a big girl, and I wanted to help.
I remember standing on a stool to reach the sink to wash dishes.
I burned my arm ironing. I sewed by hand, and on the singer.
  My parents boasted, "Cheri's a little mama." 

 I loved my parents and wanted to help.

Mama & Daddy lost weight, trying to stay up with it all. 

When mama lost down to 90 pounds, our family back home begged them to come back. 

After 3 years they decided to give ranching a try in Bakersfield.

 They bought acreage out on Digeorgeio Road on the outskirts of Bakersfield,
and started the process of fencing. When all the testing was complete, we were extremely disappointed to learn the soil was alkaline. We could not have a Hog ranch in this part of the state. 

We bought a new house in south Bakersfield, and daddy worked for
Bernard & Sons Meat Packers & Trucking. We liked our new schools, and being close to family, especially our grandmother's.

 With the ranch gone, we had a robust social life.

All my friends adored my young parents.

I am writing this from my perspective. I really think because my folks were so young and strong, 

I had a modern 1950's, 1960's, California childhood. Never giving "God," a second thought.
 That was for "grandma's."

I was raised smack dab in the center of the music industry, cowboy, beach and car culture.
My parents were part of "the Bakersfield Sound!"
Dad broke the horses, the other cowboy's gave up on.
He wrote the book on "cars!"
He is a human "hot rod!"

In some ways, this family of mine, who never prayed,

who never went to church, 

who never read the "Bible,"

were more "Christian," 

THAN

"Christians," are today!

Just sayin.'
 I remember my grandma saying,
"In a Manhattan high rise, or on the streets of Bakersfield,
a drunk is still a drunk."

The tough cowboys would NEVER dare to bring any booze in or around her home.

The so called sophisticated would NEVER bring a bottle of the finest wine in or around her home.

Our family did love to drink, just not around the one they respected the most.

Their amazing Mother.

"Oh, I can hold my liquor," is a phrase I've heard many times.
Dad and my cousin Gary built a, "Moon Shine Still" in the back yard.
We thought bombs were exploding one hot summer night during the Viet Nam war.
 I have never heard anything like it, before or since.
We all ran to Daddy.
He was standing in the middle of the newly remodeled kitchen,
as mamas fists were flying into his chest.
Home Brew oozed from every inch of the kitchen, dripping from the ceiling.
As we all picked up the gooey busted glass, we knew the kitchen was ruined.
And the smell?
 To this day, expensive or cheap, it makes me queasy.

The day I turned 13, I was so thrilled to be a teenager.
I loved it! The dances were my favorite place to be.
Rock and roll my passion.
I loved
going to the Fox Theater, or the Drive-in to see Fabian, Sandra Dee, or Beach movies.
I loved cloths, shoes, especially my white gogo boots.
I liked playing tennis, swimming, trying to surf
I adored horses, and dogs!
With school I had a full life.
Lots of friends, few boyfriends, they were petrified of Doctor Dad!
I had a massive crush on Ricky Mears in 7th grade at Greenfield School.
He went on to win the Indy 500, 4 times.

I can truly say I was an all American California girl!
At that time South Bakersfield was the new, nice part of town.
Our family was considered upper middle class.
But this was about to change.

I came home from school one day to find my father had been in a bad accident.
While lugging beef on his shoulder at a meat packers plant, a puddle, caused him to slip.
He broke his back. We thought he was paralyzed for life.
He was in pain, but fought to recover.

He lost his job. He started selling antiques.
 It was not enough to keep us in the life-style we had become accustomed to.
We had to sell our new house, downsize, and move to East Bakersfield!
My mother never complained, and I remember just being glad my dad was okay!
At least that's what I thought.

He fought to get well. He soon had a new job.
I didn't realize he was drinking more. He was now an alcoholic.
 My mother was drinking, but rarely. She didn't smoke, unless she was angry at my Dad!

Booze made our home very unpleasant at times.

And sometimes it was just plain funny!
My Dad and Sonny, his buddy nearly all his life, would get drunk, and have church.
Mom would play hymns on the piano, and dad would preach, while deacon Sonny said Amen!
I wondered how they knew all these "Christian" hymns.

I went to spend the summer in Montana with my Aunt and Uncle.
They were well off. I hung out with the country club kids, had tennis lessons,
joined the swimming team. Soon the coach mentioned "The Olympics."