It Had a Moorish Taste…

Dad and Mom used to come down and visit quite a bit. They were always in a hurry to get home. Arleen would say, “Oh, Grandma and Grandpa, would you like to stay and have some supper with us?” and Dad would say, “No, we’d better get home before it gets dark.” Then he’d turn to Mother and say, “What do you think Mother”? He always wanted Mother to say yes, but he was always in a hurry to get home. Other times we’d say, “Would you like to come to the garden to get some food?” And he’d respond the same “We’d better get home; what do you think Mother?” 99 percent of the time she’d say yes, and that was what he wanted.

Arleen was a good cook—oh, she could make good thinks out of stale bread. Grandma like her cooking, because like I said, Dad didn’t buy quality stuff—for cheese, he’d buy Velveeta, which is just like eating a rubber band, though maybe not quite as tasty. Arleen would buy quality food, and whatever she made, my mother would say, “Oh that tastes good. It has a Moorish taste,” and Arleen would give her a little more of the food. She used to say that all the time, and it wasn’t until a half or dozen times or more, that we realized “It had a Moorish taste” meant she wanted some more. We laughed about that, and even today, some of the kids say “It had a Moorish taste”.

My Father: Dust Pan, Twinkies, and Radar Range

My Dad worked at the railroad. He was a pipefitter and a sheet metal man. They made a lot of things out of sheet metal. For Christmas one year, he made Arleen a dust pan. It had a handle that swiveled, and when you picked it up, the back was heavier than the front, and it tipped so it would stay closed, unless you put it on the ground, and then it would open up. Father painted it green and red for Christmas. Arleen loved that dust pan, and she used it for years and years. I think we still have it out in the garage somewhere.

When we would go into Salt Lake, Dad would go to the Wonderbread day old Bakery. He would buy a day old box of twinkies for a dollar. They were a little harder, but still good. He also liked to buy cupcakes—the chocolate kind with marshmallow in the middle. There were two cup cakes and two twinkies in a package. Dad, he thought two were too many, so he’d open the packages, and give everybody one. The kids loved the twinkies, and one day they were asking for some, but dad had run out. My mom said, “Well, go over and buy some”, to Dad. He said, “Well, they are probably closed…”, and she responded sternly, “They are not closed, they’ll be open for an hour! Now, go over and buy some twinkies and cupcakes”. Well, Dad, he lived in the depression, and I don’t think he wanted to spend the extra dollar to get his kids some sweets, but Grandma made him. So he got back and made the big show of giving everybody one cupcake.

Dad and Mom had a radar range. It was amazing—you could put food in it, and it would heat it up. Then you’d have to open the door, stir it, and start it up again. It didn’t have a turntable. They had that for years. Dad liked to cook in that, and he like to show it to people. You couldn’t stand in front of it, because the radar rays were harmful to people—it’d make you go blind or sterile. In later years, we bought one, but now they are called microwaves.

Picking Strawberries

One time mother and I were down to the farm picking strawberries. Now Grandma could really pick strawberries fast, and I couldn’t. I was picking, and she was picking behind me, which seemed awful funny because she could pick ‘em faster than me and get ahead of me. As you picked the berries, you would put them the wooden cups we had, and then set it back down. The kids were back there too with Mom, and they were laughing. I turned around to see what they were laughing at, and Grandma was eating those strawberries as fast as I was picking them! She was having the best time eating those strawberries. Of course, she’d only eat the clean ones.

He’s Taking Dog Bites

When we had the milk cow—we had one big white one—ahhh that was a big ol’ ornery miserable thing. Once or twice it would lift its foot up and put it right in the milk can. So you’d you have to finish the milking and then throw the milk away. Sometimes it would bend the milk can, and sometimes it wouldn’t. I usually put hobbles on them so they couldn’t kick. You’d put the tail underneath it so the hobbles would hold the tail too. That thing would swing around and you’d get wet manure on your face. Arleen told me a time or two “You’ve got to go wash your face, that cow has hit you with the tail again…”

One time while I was milking in the little milk shed we had, I put a little hay and grain in there so they’d eat it. While the cow was in there eating, a little grandkid came in, looked at the cow, and exclaimed “Grandpa, Grandpa, the cow is taking dog bites!”. All you kids know what dog bites is. Whenever anyone took big bites while eating, Grandma would say, “Oh, so you’re taking dog bites, huh?”.

The Skunk Story

Kerri knows about trapping skunks—he trapped them down at Grandpa Taft’s. He did get peed on a couple of times. The stench is in the pee that a skunk shoots on you—it can spray for 20 feet! Well, one time while I was working at Geneva, I was down to the farm—I did the chores in the morning, and then went and did the cores at night after work. I would go and feed and milk the cows. One day, I found a skunk trapped in our live trap. I kept a .22 down at the farm, and so I grabbed it, and shot the skunk. That was in the morning. Then I went to work for 8 hours. When I came back after work, there was the skunk, dead in the live trap. I poked it with a stick, and it didn’t move. The way you get the animal out of the live trap is you lift the lock bar on one side, and tilt the trap so the animal falls out. I did that, and down plopped the skunk. Then I did my evening chores. When I got done, I grabbed a gunny sack, and went over to the skunk, and kicked him with my toe to make sure he was dead. Well, I guess he wasn’t quite dead, because that vermin peed all over me!
I didn’t know what to do, so, I just stood there, and took off every bit of my clothing, and put a little burlap bag on the seat in the truck so I wouldn’t stink it up too much. When the skunk sprayed me, I had wacked him on the head with a shovel, so I knew he was really dead now. I put the skunk and my clothes in a burlap sack and threw them in the back of my truck. When I came to the house, I pulled in, and honked and honked and honked and honked. Finally, Mother came to the door. While fanning her hand around her nose, she said, “Whew! What do you want?” She could smell the skunk! I said, “I got peed all over by the skunk, and I’m naked, and I’m gonna run into the house, so get me something to cover myself and hold the door for me.” I looked around, and I couldn’t see anybody, so I ran across the driveway naked and into the house. When I got to the door, Arleen stopped me and said “Now you wait right here on the porch. She went and got a quart of tomato juice, and washed me down with that. She washed and scrubbed and washed and scrubbed. She had a scrubbing brush, and I think she tried to get the hide off of me! Finally, she said, “Ok, go get in the tub”. She brought in some dish washing soap, and she washed my back where I couldn’t reach, and I still stunk.
That night she made me sleep on the coach—she wouldn’t let me get into bed with her. She wouldn’t let me wear pajamas either—I had to just wear garments, and in the morning, I had to put them right in the washer. Of course I took the truck to work. After work, on the way home, I went down to the Provo City Dump. I pulled up and the guy said, “My hell, what have you got?” I said, “I’ve got some dirty clothes.” He says, “You take them over to that far corner over there—as far as you can. What have you got them in?” I said “a gunny sack.” He said “You take that gunny sack and throw it over there, and I’ll have one of the men go over, and we’ll bury that!” So I did that. When I come home Arleen said, “Mrs. Melville called me today. She asked ‘Arleen, did you smell that skunk last night? There was a skunk right under our window.’ Arleen would rather get up on top of the house and tell the truth than stand there and tell a lie. But bless her, on that day she lied through her teeth. Ohhhh, I admired her for that. “No, we didn’t smell a skunk. ‘Oh, there was one right under our window all night long.’ Ohhh, I loved her for lying for me.

Water Fights with Gene Devey

As most of you know, I had a blind friend named Gene Devey. Gene and I got along good, and we had a lot of water fights. Gene had a bucket, and he’d get in and get plenty of people wet. The thing was, when we had a water fight with Gene, we had to make noise so that Gene knew where we were. It wasn’t fair to sneak up on him or anything, because he would get drenched. We’d always laugh, or touch him, so that he knew where we were. We had a lotta good water fights out on the lawn, and Gene enjoyed it. We all got completely soaked.

Tafta and My Folks

This story comes from Aunt Carroll, who was down there when it happened. Arleen and I were down to my folks’ place on 5th South, and our only child at the time was Tafta. We needed to go pick up some things at the store, and my mother said, “I’ll tend Tafta while you go shopping.” So, we were gone for a couple hours, and when we got back, Aunt Carroll said, “Oh, I’ve got a story to tell you”. We said “Oh, ok”. Now Aunt Carroll was full of stories, and we didn’t know what to expect.

She said “A train pulled up over there to get water, and Grandma told Tafta to go wave to the engineer. With Tafta bouncing with excitement, we went out on the side yard of the house to watch the train. When they blew the whistle, Tafta jumped up and down, and squealed. They started the engine and she just waved and waved and waved”. Carroll continued. “When we came back in, Mother asked Tafta, ’Well, did he wave back to ya’? Tafta looked at mother, lowered her tone, and said, ‘The son of a bitch didn’t wave at me!’ Mother just about gasped herself to death, hah hah ha ha”.

Aunt Carroll just laughed and laughed and laughed. Arleen was embarrassed. That was what Arleen’s father said all the time, “SOB”, he wasn’t swearing or mad or anything. As most of the boys know, it was just part of his language. Grandma wasn’t surprised, but she never was proud of Tafta to say it. I don’t think Tafta realized that SOB was a swear word until she got older. She never said it after that. Tafta and her mother never do swear. But, Aunt Carroll got the biggest kick out of that. She said, “That was the best story I’ve ever told…”