I am a sixth-generation Nevadan. Both sides of my family came over to the United States from Europe and traveled west like many pioneers. They journeyed across an arid alkaline desert … and decided to stay. My roots were planted in a place where grit and grace are necessary, and I’m thankful for that.
I’m also thankful for where I was raised, in the not-so-small-anymore town of Fernley. My sets of grandparents grew up here and raised their families here. Specifically, my maternal ones, Stan and Judy Ceresola, graduated from FHS in 1964, lived here for 50+ years, and became pivotal members of Fernley. Unfortunately, they are no longer with us, but I hope to keep my grandparents’ legacy alive by bringing their classic stories to life. So many tales were spun around the kitchen table with laughter and tears, and I want to share these gems with the community they loved.
Stan and Judy lived and worked on the family ranch for more than 40 years, known simply as “The Ranch” to us grandkids. It was on the outskirts of Wadsworth, a cute double-wide trailer against a backdrop of picturesque countryside, cozied up alongside the Truckee River. We’d play in the sheds and stalls and haystacks for hours … even when we weren’t technically supposed to, but that’s another story for another time. The funnest part about going down to The Ranch was when grandpa spread the word that all hands on deck were needed.
Branding was a key part of my family’s life. There was nothing too fancy about the way we stamped the “Walking T” on cattle herds every season: no deluxe chutes and no ATVs, just some folks on horses in a wooden corral that was usually infested with Mormon crickets during the summer. All of the cousins, grandkids, and a couple ranch hands gathered together for a weekend of hard work and legendary memories.
Some of the best stories feature a branding outing of some sort. Through the years, they’ve blended together in my mind and it is hard to focus on just one in particular. The majority of them, quite frankly, shouldn’t bear repeating in a public article because I did not inherit the suave talk of my grandpa, who could relay an incident so pure that it didn’t occur to the listener that these days that happenstance might have some moral or ethical implications. For instance, a dog was accidentally yanked through the campground fire, being tethered to the tailgate of a pickup barreling across the campsite, and ended up “fine as heck” … I just wouldn’t do it justice trying to illustrate Stan’s poignant perspective.
Overall, the branding scenes reminded me of something from a reality show—something that wasn’t entirely scripted and yet unequivocally entertaining on its own. I took for granted those authentic and chaotic days as I got older and naively assumed The Ranch would always be there. The reality is, nothing is permanent in this cycle of life, and those days are now cherished nostalgic moments. Through the ups and downs (like the bouncing of that pup along the pickup truck), my grandparents taught me to always be there for the folks you care about the most, no matter the obstacle, and always have a sense of humor.
I get married next month, and I admit that it’s hard to not be sad that my grandparents won’t physically be present. How I wish my soon-to-be husband could hear these tales himself with my grandpa’s booming voice and my grandma’s charming smile. Their wedding picture from 1965 will stand on the memorial shelf, alongside other loved ones, and we know they’ll be watching from above. Stan and Judy together through and through.
And though they are still deeply missed and we love them dearly, thankfully, there are so many stories to still share! If you have a story you’d like to contribute about Stan and Judy Ceresola, please contact us at [email protected] to help me with a possible future submission.
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