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 Four, con't
The shells were pleasantly plump with the filling pushed tightly from end to end. Lined with red sauce, I placed them side by side in a large disposable deep dish roasting pan. Covering them in another thick layer of the red sauce then burying them under a mountain of mozzarella, provolone, and Romano and parmesan cheese. Taking my olive oil cruet in my right hand, I gave several hard shakes of the oil over the cheese medley then topped it all off with a sprinkling of anise seeds, dried oregano, dried basil and ground black pepper. I placed the cardboard top over the disposable pan, pinched down the sides then double wrapped the entire pan with aluminum foil. I opened the freezer and placed the pan on the bottom shelf.
Tired and limping a bit now from standing so much on the hard Italian tile floor, I cleaned the kitchen then sat in my vegetable garden for a while to watch the corn and tomatoes grow. While resting I could hear the land line ringing in the house so I slowly made my way into the family room to answer the phone. The moment I heard Brenda’s voice I knew why she was calling. The moment I heard her voice she asked, “Well, are you going or not?”
“Not,” I lied.
“I’m so disappointed, Sue,” she said in a dark low voice. “I thought God would answer my prayers of getting this family back together but I guess I was wrong.”
“Brenda, let me ask you a question.”
“Oh, here we go…”
“In all the years you’ve known me, and you know that my name is Susie, why do you insist on calling me Sue?”
“Because that’s your name,” she said with more energy now in her cute little North Carolina drawl.
“No, my name is Susie, or Susanna, or Susanna Marie, or Susanne, but not Sue or Susan. Don’t you know that by now after forty years?”
“Well I sure as hell didn’t expect to get yelled at today, that’s the last thing I expected. You know, you sure can burst a person’s bubble and put them in a pissy mood.”
“Oh well thank you for the compliment. If you’d only stop calling me that horrible name then maybe we could get down to business.”
“What business would that be Miss Piss Ant? We have business?” Now her voice was high pitched in her most comical, southern accent that can only be described as pure Brenda.
“Yes, Brenda. That is your name isn’t it? Brenda?”
“Would you stop with that crap?”
“If you could just say my name properly one time, we can change the subject.”
“Yes, Susanna Maria Juliana Rosanna Rosso Wolf and all your other names!” She roared at me while laughter busted out at the seams.
“Ah! Now that’s better! Now you’ve got it!”
“Oh, whatever!” She said in a fake valley girl accent.
“Brenda, where and when?” There was a little pause, then a gasp of breathe, and I could feel hope rise up within her.
“Where and when what? What do you mean?”
“Where is Ontario Airport, and when does his flight arrive?” She screamed into the phone and then she dropped to her knees praising Jesus.
“Thank you Jesus! Thank you my precious Lord Jesus! Thank you Father God in heaven! Thank you all of my angels! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus! Thank you for this miracle you have bestowed onto my family.” I listened to her wailing for several minutes as she remained in loud, tearful prayer. Finally, I began to coax her back up to the phone, yelling loudly so she could hear me over her hysterics.
“Brenda! Get up and come back to the phone! Brenda!” Her continued wailing was melodrama that only Brenda could provide. After several more pleas, she finally regained control of herself and answered in a tearfully thick voice.
“Okay, Sue, I’m here, I just had to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for this miracle. Do you understand, Sue?”
“Brenda, all I did was to ask you where and when. I didn’t say we were going.”
“Oh! You’re going! By God you’re going and we’re all going to put an end to this nightmare that has torn us apart. I have prayed for three years asking the Lord to heal this family and you’re going to that airport to fulfill your part in answering those prayers. You have no idea how much I have suffered without you in my life. And all because of my idiot son who was stupid enough to do what he did. Now you need to forgive him so we can be a family again and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“I’ll go on one condition,” I said.
“Oh what is it now? Can’t you just be happy that we’re almost through with this crap?” She was screaming at me again, she cried and lashed out.