When the bear came out of the cave

Grandma Joanie was our family’s matriarch. She was the drive and the glue, the one pulling us all together, guiding our purpose, making us feel heard, and making us feel loved. 

She also was a lady of many stories, a gifted raconteur. She actually had plans to write a book before she passed. She took a writing class a couple of years ago at the community college in Helena and wrote two stories about her life. This is one of them. —Emma Pickett

It was in the summer of 1954. We had lived in Philipsburg for three years, and our lives had seemed to have settled down considerably, as my dad was working again after the mine accident that had crippled him up for six months and we had bought a new used red and white 1953 Chevrolet Bel Air. We had been without a car for three years. Wow! We were living on the sunny side of the street!