In this, her second memoir, New Prairie Woman is Susie Rosso Wolf’s depiction of her journey from Los Angeles to the historical town of Three Forks, Montana. On these pages you will discover the grandeur of “The Last Best Place” through her writing, poetry and photography, the challenges of living in a twenty foot trailer in sub-zero temperatures and how love, perseverance, and the miracle of faith can lift a soul up from the depths of the deepest, darkest waters.
Born in Santa Monica, California, I was raised in the small bedroom community of Sunkist Park that borders Culver City, Playa del Rey, Mar Vista and Venice. I attended Venice High School, West LA Community College and California Institute of the Arts. My studies included English, English Literature, Poetry, Creative Writing, Choir, Classical Voice, Shakespeare, Musical Theater, Television and Film Acting and Art History. In 1980, I relocated to the Pacific Northwest and in 1982 I married Kurt Wolf in Corvallis, Oregon. During the course of our long journey together, I have remained devoted to not only my husband, but to my friends and family, and the arts. What defines me most is my passion for expression through art. I’m an avid reader, writer and poet.I also enjoy painting and photography. Additionally, some folks consider me a pretty good cook.
New Prairie Woman Susie Rosso Wolf Chapter Three, con't.
That night, she led me into the master bedroom where Mr. White resided. He was out of town at a rubber band salesmen convention so Brenda had gone to great lengths to add layers of feather beds and foam rubber egg crate mattresses to ensure my comfort. Inasmuch as she bent over backward to fulfill my every need, I could not close my eyes to save my life and I stared up at the ceiling reflecting on the dinner and conversation we shared at a local restaurant, and then came back to the house to talk the night away. I was fascinated while listening to her stories about Robert’s relocation to Montana and how she had helped to move Robert and his girlfriend, April, to the little town of Three Forks, where they had bought a small two and a half acre parcel of land approximately 100 miles northwest of West Yellowstone. April, a newly divorced woman in her late twenties from Rialto, California had fallen hard for my nephew so invested the entire proceeds from the sale of her home into the Montana property and the purchase of a 2700 square foot, log cabin replica, manufactured home.
They began their journey in the dead of winter, 2005, just before Christmas. Living in a motel in Belgrade, Montana while the house was being built and the land was being readied, April foot the bill for their expenses while Robert looked for work and April waited for a position to open at the post office that her job in California had transferred her to. April worked for the United States Post Office for several years and was willing to take a cut in pay and position to leave California and escape the “rat race.” Brenda was brought along to help lend a hand with the build and transition into the new home once it was erected on their land by the mobile home company. Brenda was very good at moving into a new place, she had moved so many times in the years I’d known her that I had more red line scratches in my phone directory under the letter T, than there were names in the entire book.
Her description of the land, the mountains, the small town and the wildlife stirred me to my soul. It all sounded just like I had imagined, just the way I had learned about it in those books all those years ago. Montana sounded exactly like the wild side of paradise. I had been reminded about the beauty and mystery of Montana and listened to every word as she told the tale of Robert’s dream finally coming true; to live in small town America in a nice comfortable home on enough acreage to have a horse or two and let his children play without harm or danger from the crime and chaos of the big city. His dream was happening, unfolding, and becoming real. And Brenda was left to make a very serious decision about her future; would she stay in Sun City to live with her Mr. White, or, should she move to Montana to live with her son and the now, very pregnant, April? This question plagued my sleep as I tossed and turned for hours in the overstuffed bed with the heavy quilt and comforter that was so suffocating. The faint smell of cat urine became too much to ignore when suddenly, I became overwhelmed with heat and abruptly sat up in the bed, gasping for breath. Covered in perspiration, pins and needles, while the room began to spin, the smell of cigarette smoke wafted into the room and I began to cough uncontrollably.