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
Although my body was screaming and yelling at me in pain from the lousy uncomfortable night, we both showered and dressed and then went out for brunch at a local restaurant. It was fun having a gal pal day, laughing and joking with her. This was what I had missed, my friend, the woman I had so much in common with and could tell all of my secrets to. It felt great to be friends again. We laughed so hard my face hurt and I’m sure hers did too. After our meal we drove to some thrift stores and a special little shop that sold darling hand crafted gifts. I fell in love with a twenty inch tall porcelain doll that had long brown hair and was holding onto a stick of cotton candy. The moment I saw her, I had to have her. She reminded me of those days on the Santa Monica Pier, riding the carousel while eating my cotton candy and waving at Father as he watched the ride go round and round. I was so happy I had found this doll and I sat her in Zippy’s passenger seat on the long drove home. I looked down at her and smiled every so often as I made my way back to Northridge. It had been a good trip to Sun City, other than the sleeping difficulty and dealing with Brenda’s smoking habit. But all in all, I was happy that I went to see her new home and to spend some time with her. Our long conversations were filled with memories made over the course of our lives together. We both tried to steer clear of the Robert issue, although I did enjoy hearing about his new life in Montana. But I refrained from talking about his continued excommunication of his aunt and uncle. I simply wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyze the matter, and I think the visit was better without the painful reminder of his rejection. But as I drove home, it struck me how happy and excited Brenda seemed to be now that Robert had moved away to build a new and better life. She was filled with an energy I hadn’t seen in her for a very long time. Brenda was sold on Montana; she loved her time there and wanted to return. But how could she do it? Would she leave Mr. White, again, to live with her son? Would she give up this lovely home and peaceful life out in the desert for an opportunity to live with her son and his girlfriend and kids in a place where temperatures can drop to minus forty degrees in the winter? And would I ever see her again if she left California? These questions and more floated through my head as Zippy carried me back to the San Fernando Valley.