Tafta and Watson brought Jamie (who was about 8 years old at the time) up here one summer, and she was going to spend most of the summer with us. They was like most all young married people—financially not very well off, and saved every penny they could. Grandma had looked at Jamie’s shoes, and asked, “Jamie, are those your good shoes, or play shoes?” Jamie said “well these are my Sunday shoes”. Grandma then asked, “Why are you wearing them now?”, and Jamie replied, “That’s all I got.” So we decided to take Jamie downtown to Firmages clothing store. They had shoes, clothes, hats, and everything a store has.
We went in, and they there was a man who was the clerk (they didn’t have many woman clerks back then). Arleen said to him “We want to get this little girl a pair of shoes”. So he went to the back room and brought back a pair of Sunday and a pair of play shoes. We told Jamie to choose the pair that she liked best, and we would buy them for her. We weren’t going to get both, because we weren’t overly wealthy. Jamie pointed at the Sunday shoes, and said, “Oh, I like these ones”, and Arleen said, “OK we’ll get them”. Then I said, “Maybe we ought to get her some school shoes too while she’s up here”. Mother said we couldn’t afford that, and we debated for a while. Finally Mother looked at me and sternly said, “Bob, you’re going to spoil that child”.
Then Jamie looked at Arleen and said, “Grandma, I like to be spoiled”. That was the end of it. Jamie got both shoes, and Arleen said she’s been spoiled ever since.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Our Wedding
After Arleen and I had dated for a while, we decided to get married. When we figure that out, the next order of business was for me to get permission from my parents, and to meet her parents. Back in those days, the law was that a woman could get married at 18 without her parents’ permission, but a young man had to be 21 to get married without his parents’ permission. I was only 20, so I had to get permission from my parents. Boy did she lord me over about this marriage business—she was 18, and I was 20 . . . She lorded that over me for a long time, saying things like “I didn’t have to get permission from my parents to get married, but you did . . . “. It wasn’t hard for me to get permission or anything; she just liked to tease me.
Going to meet her parents was quite a journey for me. We had never been down to Bicknell together, and it was a 300 mile drive from Provo. When I went to visit, Arleen was already down there, so I took my brother to keep me company on the way. My family only had one car—back then you were lucky to have one—that my dad let me borrow. It was a Chrysler that had been Grandpa’s, and it was good for touring. The whole way we drove on the Old State Street Highway. We went through little towns, and we went over the hills, and I didn’t think we’d ever get there. I stopped one time and asked a man at a gas station if we’d passed Bicknell, but he told us we still had a ways to go. Grab! That was a long ways down there! Well, after 6 hours we finally got there
Arleen’s farm house was made of sandstone, and had vines growing over the roof. There was a cistern near the front porch, which was their source of water until they had the well drilled. I remember Arleen coming out or her farm house to meet us. She was wearing an apron over her dress. She walked by their pile of pinion pine, which was used for cooking and eating. Next to that pile was a coal pile, which they would put in the Motorola Heater in the front room.
I was a little apprehensive about meeting her dad. He was an old farmer with tanned hide. He wore a Stetson cowboy hat, and white Jersey gloves. As I was around him over the years, I saw that he always wore that Stetson hat and Jersey gloves. Sometimes he wore black or brown gloves, but most of the time he had on the white ones. I think the only time he took them off was when he went to milk. Sometimes he’d start eating without taking them off! But when he did, turned his hat upside-down, and put his gloves in his hat. He was a rough old fellow, but was a nice man. He was the boss of the family.
That evening he sure grilled me. He gave me a Grandpa Taft interview. He wanted to know if I was going to church, and if I was doing this and doing that . . . Grandma Taft, she was good and wonderful. She was kind and sweet and pleasant, and reminded me of my mother. I got along with her father, but no matter where he went, he was the boss. If you went down there, you did what he said. If he came up here, he wanted his coffee, and he wanted that—he didn’t care where he was, he was the boss. Despite his hard head, he turned out to be a pretty good man. I loved and respected him a lot.
After we met Arleen’s parents, we decided, I mean she decided, that we’d get married in Bicknell. I went along with her—she never did force anything, but she was farsighted enough to know that she’d make the suggestion. I was smart enough to know that she was smarter than me, and I would just follow her. So we got married at her parents’ place down in Bicknell. Cliff Mangrum was the bishop at that time. He was a big, good, pleasant man. I always liked him. My folks went down—I think all the family came down. Warren was born at the time. Aunt Beth, and one or two of our family went down other than the immediate family.
As we were getting ready for the wedding, we had to get the clothes and flowers and make all the plans that men don’t understand and women do. Arleen picked out a store-bought nice dress in town. About the same time, Cula, her sister, made her a much nicer dress—a real wedding dress. Arleen didn’t know that Cula made the other dress. While the family was getting everything ready, my dad said he’d iron the store bought the dress, which was full of wrinkles. Well, knowing that Cula had another dress, he made a big mess of it, putting wrinkles everywhere. When Arleen saw it, oh she was upset. They took it in the other room, and told her to buck up, and go in the other room to put on the dress. Well, the family actually had the nice wedding dress from Cula in the other room. Boy was she was really tickled to find it in there. Oh it made her happy.
Our wedding day was March 26, 1949. Most of Arleen and my families were there. She had two roommates from college who were her bridesmaids. Mother and I stood by the west wall in the front room of her family’s farm house while Bishop Mangrum did the wedding ceremony. I remember when he got through, he told us, “You may now kiss the bride”. Well, about that time I was in shock, wondering if I was really married. When I kissed her though, I knew for sure—that was the most wonderful feeling I’d had in my life up to that time.
One of the little things I remember from that wedding day was the little bride and groom on the top of our three layer cake. Most of our children and some of our grandchildren used it in their wedding cakes too. I also remember that the day was cold and windy. The thing that I remember most though, was when Bishop Mangrum got through the ceremony, he said, “You may now kiss the bride”. Well, about that time I was in shock, wondering if I was really married. When I kissed her though, I knew for sure—that was the most wonderful feeling I’d had in my life up to that time.
Going to meet her parents was quite a journey for me. We had never been down to Bicknell together, and it was a 300 mile drive from Provo. When I went to visit, Arleen was already down there, so I took my brother to keep me company on the way. My family only had one car—back then you were lucky to have one—that my dad let me borrow. It was a Chrysler that had been Grandpa’s, and it was good for touring. The whole way we drove on the Old State Street Highway. We went through little towns, and we went over the hills, and I didn’t think we’d ever get there. I stopped one time and asked a man at a gas station if we’d passed Bicknell, but he told us we still had a ways to go. Grab! That was a long ways down there! Well, after 6 hours we finally got there
Arleen’s farm house was made of sandstone, and had vines growing over the roof. There was a cistern near the front porch, which was their source of water until they had the well drilled. I remember Arleen coming out or her farm house to meet us. She was wearing an apron over her dress. She walked by their pile of pinion pine, which was used for cooking and eating. Next to that pile was a coal pile, which they would put in the Motorola Heater in the front room.
I was a little apprehensive about meeting her dad. He was an old farmer with tanned hide. He wore a Stetson cowboy hat, and white Jersey gloves. As I was around him over the years, I saw that he always wore that Stetson hat and Jersey gloves. Sometimes he wore black or brown gloves, but most of the time he had on the white ones. I think the only time he took them off was when he went to milk. Sometimes he’d start eating without taking them off! But when he did, turned his hat upside-down, and put his gloves in his hat. He was a rough old fellow, but was a nice man. He was the boss of the family.
That evening he sure grilled me. He gave me a Grandpa Taft interview. He wanted to know if I was going to church, and if I was doing this and doing that . . . Grandma Taft, she was good and wonderful. She was kind and sweet and pleasant, and reminded me of my mother. I got along with her father, but no matter where he went, he was the boss. If you went down there, you did what he said. If he came up here, he wanted his coffee, and he wanted that—he didn’t care where he was, he was the boss. Despite his hard head, he turned out to be a pretty good man. I loved and respected him a lot.
After we met Arleen’s parents, we decided, I mean she decided, that we’d get married in Bicknell. I went along with her—she never did force anything, but she was farsighted enough to know that she’d make the suggestion. I was smart enough to know that she was smarter than me, and I would just follow her. So we got married at her parents’ place down in Bicknell. Cliff Mangrum was the bishop at that time. He was a big, good, pleasant man. I always liked him. My folks went down—I think all the family came down. Warren was born at the time. Aunt Beth, and one or two of our family went down other than the immediate family.
As we were getting ready for the wedding, we had to get the clothes and flowers and make all the plans that men don’t understand and women do. Arleen picked out a store-bought nice dress in town. About the same time, Cula, her sister, made her a much nicer dress—a real wedding dress. Arleen didn’t know that Cula made the other dress. While the family was getting everything ready, my dad said he’d iron the store bought the dress, which was full of wrinkles. Well, knowing that Cula had another dress, he made a big mess of it, putting wrinkles everywhere. When Arleen saw it, oh she was upset. They took it in the other room, and told her to buck up, and go in the other room to put on the dress. Well, the family actually had the nice wedding dress from Cula in the other room. Boy was she was really tickled to find it in there. Oh it made her happy.
Our wedding day was March 26, 1949. Most of Arleen and my families were there. She had two roommates from college who were her bridesmaids. Mother and I stood by the west wall in the front room of her family’s farm house while Bishop Mangrum did the wedding ceremony. I remember when he got through, he told us, “You may now kiss the bride”. Well, about that time I was in shock, wondering if I was really married. When I kissed her though, I knew for sure—that was the most wonderful feeling I’d had in my life up to that time.
One of the little things I remember from that wedding day was the little bride and groom on the top of our three layer cake. Most of our children and some of our grandchildren used it in their wedding cakes too. I also remember that the day was cold and windy. The thing that I remember most though, was when Bishop Mangrum got through the ceremony, he said, “You may now kiss the bride”. Well, about that time I was in shock, wondering if I was really married. When I kissed her though, I knew for sure—that was the most wonderful feeling I’d had in my life up to that time.
SOB TRACTORS
When Arleen and I went over to see Rhett and Darcy in South Carolina, Darcy’s parents, George and Ethyl Davis, took us for rides to see the country and stop at yard sales and antique places. Something you need to know about George and Ethyl is that they were in the John Deer Club. They knew more about John Deer Tractors than just about any person I’ve ever met, and anybody in their club would’ve called it poor judgment to buy any other brand of tractor.
As we were driving along through the Dixie countryside, we passed farm after farm. When George would see a green and yellow tractor out in a field, he’d say something like “Oh, that looks like an S-92-406. Yeah, it was built in 1992”. We’d keep going and he’d see another one out in a field, and say “Oh look Ethyl, there is a John Deer Cub”. Further down the road he’d see a red tractor out in the field, and then he’d mutter “Oh look, there’s an SOB tractor”.
Now George was not one to cuss, so Arleen and I were a little startled, but we didn’t say anything. George saw another green tractor and told us the model, and we smiled and nodded. Then it happened again; he blurted out “Oh, there’s another SOB tractor.” This happened quite a few more times. Whenever he saw a red, blue, or black tractor, he’d say “there’s an SOB tractor”. Finally I spoke up “Now George, all tractors are not John Deers, and just because it’s not a John deer, it doesn’t mean it’s an SOB tractor”. He said “Actually Bob, they are SOB tractors. . .” I said “What do you”— he cut me off, insisting “They are SOB tractors, and look, there’s another SOB tractor”. Ethyl chuckled, and Arleen turned around from the front seat and said “George, you know I don’t like to be around swearing. Could you please not talk like that around me?” George looked at Arleen in the face, and said “Well I didn’t swear. You see that blue tractor over there? That’s some other brand...”
We all know Arleen won’t swear, but the next time she saw a blue tractor, she piped up and said “Hey everyone, look at that SOB tractor over there!”
As we were driving along through the Dixie countryside, we passed farm after farm. When George would see a green and yellow tractor out in a field, he’d say something like “Oh, that looks like an S-92-406. Yeah, it was built in 1992”. We’d keep going and he’d see another one out in a field, and say “Oh look Ethyl, there is a John Deer Cub”. Further down the road he’d see a red tractor out in the field, and then he’d mutter “Oh look, there’s an SOB tractor”.
Now George was not one to cuss, so Arleen and I were a little startled, but we didn’t say anything. George saw another green tractor and told us the model, and we smiled and nodded. Then it happened again; he blurted out “Oh, there’s another SOB tractor.” This happened quite a few more times. Whenever he saw a red, blue, or black tractor, he’d say “there’s an SOB tractor”. Finally I spoke up “Now George, all tractors are not John Deers, and just because it’s not a John deer, it doesn’t mean it’s an SOB tractor”. He said “Actually Bob, they are SOB tractors. . .” I said “What do you”— he cut me off, insisting “They are SOB tractors, and look, there’s another SOB tractor”. Ethyl chuckled, and Arleen turned around from the front seat and said “George, you know I don’t like to be around swearing. Could you please not talk like that around me?” George looked at Arleen in the face, and said “Well I didn’t swear. You see that blue tractor over there? That’s some other brand...”
We all know Arleen won’t swear, but the next time she saw a blue tractor, she piped up and said “Hey everyone, look at that SOB tractor over there!”
THE GREEN COAT
When we were married, I’m not sure how long, but we did have several children, we went down to Clark’s in Provo. It was located on North University Avenue and run by two brothers, Jon and the Dallon Clark. Dallon was the manager and I suppose the older of the two. It was that time of year when you do Christmas shopping, and the kids liked to go because they had roasted chestnuts, which was a real treat for them.
Mother really needed a new coat that year. As we went in to the store, she spotted a lime green one and oh, it was beautiful coat! Jon Clark came over and talked to her. It was around $400.00 for the coat which was way out of our price range. Elaine Kilpack, who lived in the 11th ward at the time, also worked for the store. Her husband was not an active member because he smoke and drank, but we sure liked both of them. She came over and said, “Arleen don’t buy that coat right now, I think it is going on sale soon. “ Jon said, “Well now this is a good buy on this coat, but it may be going on sale in a couple of weeks. Would you like me to put it away for you?” We said “Sure” and he put it away.
Sunday at Church Elaine came up to us and said, “I hid the coat for you so no one else will buy it. It will be on sale soon, and when you come to the store I will get it for you”. So a few days later we went down and asked for her. She came up and said, “Arleen, I’ll get that coat out if you’d like to look at it”. Jon came over and asked if she had come to look at her coat. Arleen said, “Yes, I’d like to see it”. Jon said that it was half price at $200.00. That’s a real good buy. Elaine stood behind him, out of his line of sight and shook her head as if to say, “No, no don’t buy it”. Arleen said, “Well no, I think I’ll wait a little while. It’s still just a little bit high”.
“I can’t put it away for you”, Jon said. ”It’s that price that it’s going to sell at”. So he left and Elaine came up and said she was going to hide that coat again because she knew that it was going to be marked down before Christmas. She told Arleen to save all the cash she could and it would be a better deal.
A week or two before Christmas I drove back to Clark’s in our old ’34 Ford. It was snowing as I came in the back door. Dallon, the older brother came up and said, “Oh, are you looking for that coat for your wife? Well it’s on clearance, I think just between $200.00 and $300.00 dollars. I said, “How much? We came in a while back and it was on sale for $200.00”. “Oh that was a mistake”, Dallon replied. So we talked for a while and Jon came over noticing our confusion and straightened everyone out.
“No Dallon, the price is not that high. It’s a real good bargain now”, he said. “It’s under $200.00.” Then Elaine spoke up saying, “Now I’ve looked at this coat and I think we could sell it for around $150.00”. Jon said, “Let me go get the invoice and see what we paid for it”. He came back and said, “I can’t let you have it for $150.00; that’s just a little less than we paid for it. Now if you like it I can let you have it at our cost”.
Then Elaine piped up again, and said, “Jon, it’s marked right here $150.00”! She pointed to a small price tag on the collar. “Oh, well if it’s marked, that’s what I’m going to sell it to you for,” Jon said.
Now I believe that Elaine had marked it at that price—I’m not sure, but I am sure. So we got Arleen’s coat for 150 dollars. The thing about it was that Mother had wanted that coat real bad. I was so excited to give it to her.
Deseret Industries was down on 5th West and Center Street in Provo. I went down there to see Phil Washburn—a great big man—who was one of the managers. I told him that I needed a large Deseret Industries sack. He said that he couldn’t let me have one because they were special sacks for big items. I told him what I needed it for and he said, “Okay, I’ll get you one”. He went and got me one made out of paper, and I took it home.
At the time we were living in Uncle Harold Soward’s. I took the coat out of the Clark’s plastic bag and put it in the Deseret Industries paper sack. Before I put the coat in the bag, I first wrinkled and crushed that bag so that it looked like it had been used. On Christmas Day, Mother was awfully apprehensive about opening that D.I. bag. But oh, was she ever happy and pleased when she opened it. That green coat was probably the best Christmas that I ever gave her. She was completely unaware that I had purchased it, but I knew she wanted it. She wanted it bad. Boy, it took some savings to get that coat, but it was worth it. It was worth it to get that coat for Mother and it was probably the happiest Christmas that I’ve ever had.
Mother really needed a new coat that year. As we went in to the store, she spotted a lime green one and oh, it was beautiful coat! Jon Clark came over and talked to her. It was around $400.00 for the coat which was way out of our price range. Elaine Kilpack, who lived in the 11th ward at the time, also worked for the store. Her husband was not an active member because he smoke and drank, but we sure liked both of them. She came over and said, “Arleen don’t buy that coat right now, I think it is going on sale soon. “ Jon said, “Well now this is a good buy on this coat, but it may be going on sale in a couple of weeks. Would you like me to put it away for you?” We said “Sure” and he put it away.
Sunday at Church Elaine came up to us and said, “I hid the coat for you so no one else will buy it. It will be on sale soon, and when you come to the store I will get it for you”. So a few days later we went down and asked for her. She came up and said, “Arleen, I’ll get that coat out if you’d like to look at it”. Jon came over and asked if she had come to look at her coat. Arleen said, “Yes, I’d like to see it”. Jon said that it was half price at $200.00. That’s a real good buy. Elaine stood behind him, out of his line of sight and shook her head as if to say, “No, no don’t buy it”. Arleen said, “Well no, I think I’ll wait a little while. It’s still just a little bit high”.
“I can’t put it away for you”, Jon said. ”It’s that price that it’s going to sell at”. So he left and Elaine came up and said she was going to hide that coat again because she knew that it was going to be marked down before Christmas. She told Arleen to save all the cash she could and it would be a better deal.
A week or two before Christmas I drove back to Clark’s in our old ’34 Ford. It was snowing as I came in the back door. Dallon, the older brother came up and said, “Oh, are you looking for that coat for your wife? Well it’s on clearance, I think just between $200.00 and $300.00 dollars. I said, “How much? We came in a while back and it was on sale for $200.00”. “Oh that was a mistake”, Dallon replied. So we talked for a while and Jon came over noticing our confusion and straightened everyone out.
“No Dallon, the price is not that high. It’s a real good bargain now”, he said. “It’s under $200.00.” Then Elaine spoke up saying, “Now I’ve looked at this coat and I think we could sell it for around $150.00”. Jon said, “Let me go get the invoice and see what we paid for it”. He came back and said, “I can’t let you have it for $150.00; that’s just a little less than we paid for it. Now if you like it I can let you have it at our cost”.
Then Elaine piped up again, and said, “Jon, it’s marked right here $150.00”! She pointed to a small price tag on the collar. “Oh, well if it’s marked, that’s what I’m going to sell it to you for,” Jon said.
Now I believe that Elaine had marked it at that price—I’m not sure, but I am sure. So we got Arleen’s coat for 150 dollars. The thing about it was that Mother had wanted that coat real bad. I was so excited to give it to her.
Deseret Industries was down on 5th West and Center Street in Provo. I went down there to see Phil Washburn—a great big man—who was one of the managers. I told him that I needed a large Deseret Industries sack. He said that he couldn’t let me have one because they were special sacks for big items. I told him what I needed it for and he said, “Okay, I’ll get you one”. He went and got me one made out of paper, and I took it home.
At the time we were living in Uncle Harold Soward’s. I took the coat out of the Clark’s plastic bag and put it in the Deseret Industries paper sack. Before I put the coat in the bag, I first wrinkled and crushed that bag so that it looked like it had been used. On Christmas Day, Mother was awfully apprehensive about opening that D.I. bag. But oh, was she ever happy and pleased when she opened it. That green coat was probably the best Christmas that I ever gave her. She was completely unaware that I had purchased it, but I knew she wanted it. She wanted it bad. Boy, it took some savings to get that coat, but it was worth it. It was worth it to get that coat for Mother and it was probably the happiest Christmas that I’ve ever had.
Work When Times Were Tough
My brother Harold worked at the Utah Wholesale when we lived down there on 4th West and 5th South. The Wholesale was just west of where we lived, and there were two brothers working there, Ed and Sam Copp. Ed was the foreman of the warehouse. He got me on working over there in the 9th grade of high school. They had cigarettes that had to have a stamp put on them. The stamps were just a trifle smaller than a postage stamp, and they came on big sheets that had 100 a piece on them. Each box had 10 cartons of cigarettes, and each carton had 10 packs of cigarettes that needed to be stamped. You’d tear a strip of stamps off, wet it, and put a stamp on each box. The person who worked there before me was quite ingenious, in that he had a wet rag that he’d use to dampen the stamps before sticking them to the boxes. The problem was, the rag would get you wet all over your clothes. So I made me a little box, and later Dad, who was a sheet metal man, made me one out of sheet metal. It was just the size of a cotex, and we made it so you could put a cotex in and get it wet and run it across the stamps to get them wet. It was very handy.
Anyway, that Ed Copp was an ornery fella, and he swore like a sailor. Even though that bald headed man would yell and holler, we got along good. He’d ask me to do something like sweep his floor, and I’d do it. That was how I got a lot of candy and gum. I started working over there in 9th grade, and worked there all through high school. It didn’t pay a lot of money, but it was a steady income.
That was during the war. All of things were rationed back than, like sugar. Sweets were hard to get. You had to have a ration stamp to get them for gas, groceries, and cigarettes. I had access to all the candy and gum I wanted because I had a friend whose dad ran a service station, and he owned a coal mine. He had unlimited gas stamps, and we would trade gas stamps for sugar and grocery stamps, so we never really suffered. In Arleen’s family, they had unlimited beef stamps because they worked on the farm and raised their own beef.
Because times were tough, a lot of people would go over by the train tracks and throw coal off of the coal cars, and gather it up to use at home. Most of the cooking and heating was coal stoves. Dad would never do that, but sometimes he’d take us over to gather up small pieces from off the ground to take home. Dad would let us do that, but he’d never let us get on the train to throw it off. Most of the coal was lump coal, which is the size of big boulders. A small piece of coal was about the size of a football, though it was a lot lighter than stone. People would take the pieces home and break them up with hammers for coal stove. In fact, I used to work delivering coal stove.
I worked for Leo Knight, who had a coal yard down on 5th West and 6th South. After we were married, when I first started working at Geneva, I only made 97 cents an hour and we had hard times. So I usually worked 2 or 3 jobs. For one of them, I made good extra wages by delivering the coal. That was in 1949. Gosh, I would deliver a ton of coal—load it by hand in the truck, weigh it, and deliver it. If I didn’t put enough in the truck I had to take the truck off the scale and fill it a little more and reweigh it. Mr. Knight was an honest man, and never shortchanged his customers. Then I drove the truck to someone’s home, and unloaded that coal by hand. Mr. Knight gave me a dollar per ton load. It was hard but good work. Times were hard back then, but we were happy.
Anyway, that Ed Copp was an ornery fella, and he swore like a sailor. Even though that bald headed man would yell and holler, we got along good. He’d ask me to do something like sweep his floor, and I’d do it. That was how I got a lot of candy and gum. I started working over there in 9th grade, and worked there all through high school. It didn’t pay a lot of money, but it was a steady income.
That was during the war. All of things were rationed back than, like sugar. Sweets were hard to get. You had to have a ration stamp to get them for gas, groceries, and cigarettes. I had access to all the candy and gum I wanted because I had a friend whose dad ran a service station, and he owned a coal mine. He had unlimited gas stamps, and we would trade gas stamps for sugar and grocery stamps, so we never really suffered. In Arleen’s family, they had unlimited beef stamps because they worked on the farm and raised their own beef.
Because times were tough, a lot of people would go over by the train tracks and throw coal off of the coal cars, and gather it up to use at home. Most of the cooking and heating was coal stoves. Dad would never do that, but sometimes he’d take us over to gather up small pieces from off the ground to take home. Dad would let us do that, but he’d never let us get on the train to throw it off. Most of the coal was lump coal, which is the size of big boulders. A small piece of coal was about the size of a football, though it was a lot lighter than stone. People would take the pieces home and break them up with hammers for coal stove. In fact, I used to work delivering coal stove.
I worked for Leo Knight, who had a coal yard down on 5th West and 6th South. After we were married, when I first started working at Geneva, I only made 97 cents an hour and we had hard times. So I usually worked 2 or 3 jobs. For one of them, I made good extra wages by delivering the coal. That was in 1949. Gosh, I would deliver a ton of coal—load it by hand in the truck, weigh it, and deliver it. If I didn’t put enough in the truck I had to take the truck off the scale and fill it a little more and reweigh it. Mr. Knight was an honest man, and never shortchanged his customers. Then I drove the truck to someone’s home, and unloaded that coal by hand. Mr. Knight gave me a dollar per ton load. It was hard but good work. Times were hard back then, but we were happy.
Spanish Rice and Blub Blub
When we was small, my mother made a dessert called blamonge. It was almost like a thick heavy pudding. That was before we had any packaged foods—everything was made from scratch. Carrol or Glade had mother make it one time. They wanted mother to make blub blub. So she made that, and from that day on it was called blub blub. It was really a nice good treat for us. It had a lot of milk and flour and sugar. I don’t really know the recipe, but Mother and Dad came one time, and my wife said, “I don’t know what to fix for a dessert. I have just run out of ideas and I don’t know what to do . . .” Mother suggested, “Well, why don’t you make some blamonge?” I didn’t have any idea what blamonge was. My mother got the recipe and Arleen prepared it. When I saw it and said, “What is that?” Mother said “That’s blub blub”, and that’s what we’ve called it ever since.
Another thing my mother used to make this quite a bit was called slumgulian. I think she got the recipe from her mother. It was also called Spanish Rice. Us kids loved it for a supper meal. It was made out of hamburger, rice, and sometimes instead of rice. Arleen would use macaroni. I didn’t like that macaroni near as much as I liked the rice, but I didn’t tell Arleen that because it was one of her favorites. It was good. I never did turn my nose up at it. She’d also put onions and tomatoes from the basement that she had bottled. Then she’d use tomato juice instead of water. Then you’d salt and pepper it to taste, and ooooo that was good! I loved when she’d make that with bread.
Another thing my mother used to make this quite a bit was called slumgulian. I think she got the recipe from her mother. It was also called Spanish Rice. Us kids loved it for a supper meal. It was made out of hamburger, rice, and sometimes instead of rice. Arleen would use macaroni. I didn’t like that macaroni near as much as I liked the rice, but I didn’t tell Arleen that because it was one of her favorites. It was good. I never did turn my nose up at it. She’d also put onions and tomatoes from the basement that she had bottled. Then she’d use tomato juice instead of water. Then you’d salt and pepper it to taste, and ooooo that was good! I loved when she’d make that with bread.
A VISIT TO MY CHILDHOOD HOME
Recently, I had a wonderful experience. Today is Monday the 27th of September, 2010. Two weeks ago, coming home from the temple I drove by the cemetery, then by my parent’s old home at 6th South. We called it 6th South, the address is 559 South 4th West. 6th South was at the railroad tracks, but we always called our house at 6th South because you couldn’t go any farther and once you got over the tracks it was 7th South.
I’ve gone by it several times after I’ve gone to the cemetery. Today when I drove by there was a man who had the door open and was sitting inside the door. I thought I’ll just go back and see if I can go through the old house where Arleen and I lived the very first week we were married—my folks’ house. So I turned around and went back and I went up to him and I says, “I used to live here. Could I go through the house and look at it? Well he was a Spanish man around 35 years old I imagine. He couldn’t speak a word of English and I couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. I was just about to turn around when a little old scrawny lady, about 65 to 70 year in age said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes”, I answered. I used to live in this house and was wondering if I could go through it and look at it and just reminisce a minute”. She says, “Yes you can, come in. Are you hungry?”
I said, “No” and she invited me inside. As we went in I said, “This is the kitchen. The sink is right over there where it was, gosh it’d been 50 years ago or more. And I looked and I said, “Oh, this window here, we used to look out and see the trains.” She said, “Trains yes!” But they don’t have the trains like they used to then with the steam locomotives, passenger trains, freight trains, troop trains carrying the soldiers from WWII. I looked and she said, “Not many trains”, and I agreed.
We went further into the house and I said, “Ahhh… Mother and Dad’s bedroom. It was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon – it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it, we could, but that is where she kept it. I told her one time, I says, “ Mother, why don’t you put that wine in smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up”? She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it. But anyway, we went into the bedroom and it brought those memories into my mind.
The house only had two bedrooms; our bedroom -- the boys’ bedroom was on the far north end of the house on the east side. As we entered it, the Spanish woman said, “Ah, my bedroom.” I said, “No, no my bedroom!” We used to sleep in here and I think that was before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
There was a window on the north side of the house and I noticed that there was a cabinet placed in front of it. The lady said, “Oh yes, we put that there so that people can’t peek in.” I don’t know why they’d want to peek in at her, but anyway, that’s what they did. They had the door painted that went out on the east wall where we would go outside. We kids would sneak out sometimes and go play and then come back in. She said, “No door, no door.” There was a door but they had painted it shut. It didn’t have a window and it was just an old solid door that was no longer used.
We went into the front room and oh, I remembered my chair just like that one I’ve got in the kitchen you’ve all seen me sit in. I says, “I remember that was Dad’s chair. Anybody could sit in it, but that was Dad’s chair and usually we got out, like you people do now when you’re in my chair, you get out and I just appreciate that.
Your kind mother saw an old chair like that and she bought it and had it recovered in leather just for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that. That brought back memories.
I’ve gone by it several times after I’ve gone to the cemetery. Today when I drove by there was a man who had the door open and was sitting inside the door. I thought I’ll just go back and see if I can go through the old house where Arleen and I lived the very first week we were married—my folks’ house. So I turned around and went back and I went up to him and I says, “I used to live here. Could I go through the house and look at it? Well he was a Spanish man around 35 years old I imagine. He couldn’t speak a word of English and I couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. I was just about to turn around when a little old scrawny lady, about 65 to 70 year in age said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes”, I answered. I used to live in this house and was wondering if I could go through it and look at it and just reminisce a minute”. She says, “Yes you can, come in. Are you hungry?”
I said, “No” and she invited me inside. As we went in I said, “This is the kitchen. The sink is right over there where it was, gosh it’d been 50 years ago or more. And I looked and I said, “Oh, this window here, we used to look out and see the trains.” She said, “Trains yes!” But they don’t have the trains like they used to then with the steam locomotives, passenger trains, freight trains, troop trains carrying the soldiers from WWII. I looked and she said, “Not many trains”, and I agreed.
We went further into the house and I said, “Ahhh… Mother and Dad’s bedroom. It was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon – it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it, we could, but that is where she kept it. I told her one time, I says, “ Mother, why don’t you put that wine in smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up”? She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it. But anyway, we went into the bedroom and it brought those memories into my mind.
The house only had two bedrooms; our bedroom -- the boys’ bedroom was on the far north end of the house on the east side. As we entered it, the Spanish woman said, “Ah, my bedroom.” I said, “No, no my bedroom!” We used to sleep in here and I think that was before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
There was a window on the north side of the house and I noticed that there was a cabinet placed in front of it. The lady said, “Oh yes, we put that there so that people can’t peek in.” I don’t know why they’d want to peek in at her, but anyway, that’s what they did. They had the door painted that went out on the east wall where we would go outside. We kids would sneak out sometimes and go play and then come back in. She said, “No door, no door.” There was a door but they had painted it shut. It didn’t have a window and it was just an old solid door that was no longer used.
We went into the front room and oh, I remembered my chair just like that one I’ve got in the kitchen you’ve all seen me sit in. I says, “I remember that was Dad’s chair. Anybody could sit in it, but that was Dad’s chair and usually we got out, like you people do now when you’re in my chair, you get out and I just appreciate that.
Your kind mother saw an old chair like that and she bought it and had it recovered in leather just for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that. That brought back memories.
Living at Uncle Soward’s
We lived down on 5th West and 3rd South for years. There was an old crippled man that had a house, and he lived in one half of it, and we lived in the other half. There was another couple that lived there for years before us. Then when they moved out we moved in.
You entered from the west side of the house—that was the front, and then you went into a little hall. The right went into Uncle Soward’s, and the left went into our living room. We had a kitchen and we had one bedroom. Both bedrooms went into one bathroom that we shared with Uncle Soward. I guess we locked the door to the other side when we went in. I don’t ever remember us having much problems going in.
Tafta, and Robert, but Tafta especially, lived in Uncle Soward’s all the time. He had arthritis and was bent over and used a cane. In fact, I have his cane out in the garage. He couldn’t raise his head much, so he was always looking at the ground. He was a wonderful old gentleman. We would buy the paper, and he didn’t have enough money that he could afford the paper. So we would take the paper into him and let him read it first. One day he found a wrist watch. Now, he was so thrilled and happy that he found a wrist watch. He never had a watch before. And so when the paper came a day after I went and got it first to see if somebody went and put an ad in the paper about a lost wrist watch. If I did find one, I was going to go and see if I could buy it, because I didn’t want uncle Soward to give up the wrist watch.
Luckily, we never did find an ad, and he kept that wrist watch for years and years.
An interesting thing—Tafta would go and sit upon Uncle Soward’s lap. She pretty much lived with him. She’d go in and he’d treat her like his own. We bought an old little wind up phonograph, and she had a little children’s record, and it played and played and played. . . About Christmas time we asked Uncle Soward what he’d like for Christmas, and he said, “What I’d really like is a new record for that phonograph!”
You entered from the west side of the house—that was the front, and then you went into a little hall. The right went into Uncle Soward’s, and the left went into our living room. We had a kitchen and we had one bedroom. Both bedrooms went into one bathroom that we shared with Uncle Soward. I guess we locked the door to the other side when we went in. I don’t ever remember us having much problems going in.
Tafta, and Robert, but Tafta especially, lived in Uncle Soward’s all the time. He had arthritis and was bent over and used a cane. In fact, I have his cane out in the garage. He couldn’t raise his head much, so he was always looking at the ground. He was a wonderful old gentleman. We would buy the paper, and he didn’t have enough money that he could afford the paper. So we would take the paper into him and let him read it first. One day he found a wrist watch. Now, he was so thrilled and happy that he found a wrist watch. He never had a watch before. And so when the paper came a day after I went and got it first to see if somebody went and put an ad in the paper about a lost wrist watch. If I did find one, I was going to go and see if I could buy it, because I didn’t want uncle Soward to give up the wrist watch.
Luckily, we never did find an ad, and he kept that wrist watch for years and years.
An interesting thing—Tafta would go and sit upon Uncle Soward’s lap. She pretty much lived with him. She’d go in and he’d treat her like his own. We bought an old little wind up phonograph, and she had a little children’s record, and it played and played and played. . . About Christmas time we asked Uncle Soward what he’d like for Christmas, and he said, “What I’d really like is a new record for that phonograph!”
Mother’s Rocker
About the time we had Tafta and Robert, Mother wanted a rocker and we looked around a while for a good deal. There wasn’t Deseret Industries at the time, so we had to keep an eye out for one. One time as we were coming back from Bicknell on the old State Street Highway, we were coming through Redmond and one of us saw an old rocker on a porch. There was an old man sitting on the porch in another chair. Mother said, “Let’s go back and look at that!” So I turned around, and we went up to ask the old gentleman about the rocker.
I said, “How are you?” He said, “Fine.” “We were driving by and saw this old rocker. Would you like to sell it?”, I asked. I looked at the chair and it was missing one rocker and a couple of spindles out of the back. He said, “Well, I don’t know….” He went to the door and hollered, “Ma, do you want to sell this rocker out here?” An older lady in a dress and apron came out. She looked at me and asked, “Are you the one who wants the rocker?” I said, “Well, if you want to sell it.” She said, “It ain’t worth much; parts are missing on it.” “I can see that. It will take a little work to get it operating,” I replied. She said, “Well, it used to be my ma’s, but we ain’t used it for a long time”. I asked her if she’d like to sell it and she said, “It ain’t any good to us the way it is. I’ll sell it to you for $2.” That was a good price back then so I went back to the car and brought Mother over to have a look at it. She asked me if I could fix it and I said, “No, but we can get somebody else to fix it.”
So we gave her the two dollars and took it over to the car – it wouldn’t fit into the trunk. We wrapped it in a blanket and tied it on top of the car and come home. We must have looked like a couple of “Oakie” driving around with that chair on top of the car. I knew a man who worked over at Utah Timber and Coal on 5th North and 2nd West. In fact, he used to be in the bishopric of the old Pioneer Ward when we were first married. His name was Frank and I asked him if he knew of anybody who repaired chairs like that. He said there was a man out back who did. I went out and asked him if he could fix it and he said he could. I asked him how long it would take and he said a month or so. I left the chair. I wanted it for Mother because she enjoyed it and we didn’t have a rocking chair.
A month passed; then six weeks. I went down in the back where he’d been working before and there was another man there. I asked him, “Where’s the man who fixes the furniture?” “Well, he’s gone again today. He goes quite a bit. He goes out and eats and fools around. I don’t know what he’s doing.” I asked him,” Do you know where the rocking chair is that he’s working on?” “He ain’t working on one right now but there’s one over there that’s all torn apart that he’s going to work on.” I went over and there was my rocking chair all torn apart and sitting in a bundle. I asked, “Has he been working on it?” He said, “No he hasn’t been working on it for awhile.” I said, “I’m going to take it.” He agreed, “Yeah, I would too. I don’t know when he’ll get it done.” So, I bundled it all up and took it in the car.
Bob Allen was a big, tall, raw faced man lived down by the 2nd Ward. I knew he did repair work. So I took it over to him and asked him if he could fix it. He responded, “Gee, I don’t know. It’s all torn apart. What’s wrong with it?” I told him it needed a rocker and two or three spindles in the back and he said that he could fix it. “How much will it cost?. He said, “That depends on how much work I have to do. It won’t be too much.” So, I said, ”Okay, how long will it take?” He said it would be a couple of months at most. It was getting close to Christmas and I went down one time and went in and he was working on another chair. I asked him, “What have you done on my rocker Bob?” He said that he’d made a rocker and ordered some spindles from another man who has a lathe to match the old ones.” I asked if there was any chance he could have it done by Christmas so that I could give it to my wife. He said, “It’ll hurry me. I won’t promise but I’ll try.”
A week before Christmas I went in. Bob had just put a coat of varnish on it. He said, “You can come back on the 24th; it ought to be dry by then. You can take it then so you’ll have it for Christmas and then bring it back later and I’ll put two more coats of varnish on it.” I said, “Okay, what do I owe you?” He said, “Oh, I don’t know. Take it and we’ll decide when we come back.” So I brought it home and gave it to Mother for Christmas. Oh, she was tickled about it. She got in and rocked back and forth. She rocked the kids and she used it a lot throughout her life. She rocked our kids and grandkids in it. It was a nice rocker and I think he charged me about $25.00 to fix it. It was the best $25.00 I’d spent because Mother really liked it. It looked real nice after we got it finished.
We stopped in Redmond one time and talked with the old couple and she said, “Gosh, after I sold that I was sorry. I should have had my husband fix it up. That was my Ma’s. But we hadn’t used it in years, and we’re tickled that it’s in good shape now.”
I said, “How are you?” He said, “Fine.” “We were driving by and saw this old rocker. Would you like to sell it?”, I asked. I looked at the chair and it was missing one rocker and a couple of spindles out of the back. He said, “Well, I don’t know….” He went to the door and hollered, “Ma, do you want to sell this rocker out here?” An older lady in a dress and apron came out. She looked at me and asked, “Are you the one who wants the rocker?” I said, “Well, if you want to sell it.” She said, “It ain’t worth much; parts are missing on it.” “I can see that. It will take a little work to get it operating,” I replied. She said, “Well, it used to be my ma’s, but we ain’t used it for a long time”. I asked her if she’d like to sell it and she said, “It ain’t any good to us the way it is. I’ll sell it to you for $2.” That was a good price back then so I went back to the car and brought Mother over to have a look at it. She asked me if I could fix it and I said, “No, but we can get somebody else to fix it.”
So we gave her the two dollars and took it over to the car – it wouldn’t fit into the trunk. We wrapped it in a blanket and tied it on top of the car and come home. We must have looked like a couple of “Oakie” driving around with that chair on top of the car. I knew a man who worked over at Utah Timber and Coal on 5th North and 2nd West. In fact, he used to be in the bishopric of the old Pioneer Ward when we were first married. His name was Frank and I asked him if he knew of anybody who repaired chairs like that. He said there was a man out back who did. I went out and asked him if he could fix it and he said he could. I asked him how long it would take and he said a month or so. I left the chair. I wanted it for Mother because she enjoyed it and we didn’t have a rocking chair.
A month passed; then six weeks. I went down in the back where he’d been working before and there was another man there. I asked him, “Where’s the man who fixes the furniture?” “Well, he’s gone again today. He goes quite a bit. He goes out and eats and fools around. I don’t know what he’s doing.” I asked him,” Do you know where the rocking chair is that he’s working on?” “He ain’t working on one right now but there’s one over there that’s all torn apart that he’s going to work on.” I went over and there was my rocking chair all torn apart and sitting in a bundle. I asked, “Has he been working on it?” He said, “No he hasn’t been working on it for awhile.” I said, “I’m going to take it.” He agreed, “Yeah, I would too. I don’t know when he’ll get it done.” So, I bundled it all up and took it in the car.
Bob Allen was a big, tall, raw faced man lived down by the 2nd Ward. I knew he did repair work. So I took it over to him and asked him if he could fix it. He responded, “Gee, I don’t know. It’s all torn apart. What’s wrong with it?” I told him it needed a rocker and two or three spindles in the back and he said that he could fix it. “How much will it cost?. He said, “That depends on how much work I have to do. It won’t be too much.” So, I said, ”Okay, how long will it take?” He said it would be a couple of months at most. It was getting close to Christmas and I went down one time and went in and he was working on another chair. I asked him, “What have you done on my rocker Bob?” He said that he’d made a rocker and ordered some spindles from another man who has a lathe to match the old ones.” I asked if there was any chance he could have it done by Christmas so that I could give it to my wife. He said, “It’ll hurry me. I won’t promise but I’ll try.”
A week before Christmas I went in. Bob had just put a coat of varnish on it. He said, “You can come back on the 24th; it ought to be dry by then. You can take it then so you’ll have it for Christmas and then bring it back later and I’ll put two more coats of varnish on it.” I said, “Okay, what do I owe you?” He said, “Oh, I don’t know. Take it and we’ll decide when we come back.” So I brought it home and gave it to Mother for Christmas. Oh, she was tickled about it. She got in and rocked back and forth. She rocked the kids and she used it a lot throughout her life. She rocked our kids and grandkids in it. It was a nice rocker and I think he charged me about $25.00 to fix it. It was the best $25.00 I’d spent because Mother really liked it. It looked real nice after we got it finished.
We stopped in Redmond one time and talked with the old couple and she said, “Gosh, after I sold that I was sorry. I should have had my husband fix it up. That was my Ma’s. But we hadn’t used it in years, and we’re tickled that it’s in good shape now.”
A VISIT TO MY CHILDHOOD HOME
Recently, I had a wonderful experience. Today is Monday the 27th of September, 2010. Two weeks ago, coming home from the temple I drove by the cemetery, then by my parent’s old home at 6th South. We called it 6th South, the address is 559 South 4th West. 6th South was at the railroad tracks, but we always called our house at 6th South because you couldn’t go any farther and once you got over the tracks it was 7th South.
I’ve gone by it several times after I’ve gone to the cemetery. Today when I drove by there was a man who had the door open and was sitting inside the door. I thought I’ll just go back and see if I can go through the old house where Arleen and I lived the very first week we were married—my folks’ house. So I turned around and went back and I went up to him and I says, “I used to live here. Could I go through the house and look at it? Well he was a Spanish man around 35 years old I imagine. He couldn’t speak a word of English and I couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. I was just about to turn around when a little old scrawny lady, about 65 to 70 year in age said, “Can I help you?” “Yes”, I answered. I used to live in this house and was wondering if I could go through it and look at it and just reminisce a minute”. She says, “Yes you can, come in. Are you hungry?” I said, “No” and she invited me inside. As we went in I said, “This is the kitchen. The sink is right over there where it was, gosh it’d been 50 years ago or more. And I looked and I said, “Oh, this window here, we used to look out and see the trains.” She said, “Trains yes!” But they don’t have the trains like they used to then with the steam locomotives, passenger trains, freight trains, troop trains carrying the soldiers from WWII. I looked and she said, “Not many trains”, and I agreed.
We went further into the house and I said, “Ahhh… Mother and Dad’s bedroom. It was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon – it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it, we could, but that is where she kept it. I told her one time, I says, “ Mother, why don’t you put that wine in smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up”? She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it. But anyway, we went into the bedroom and it brought those memories into my mind.
The house only had two bedrooms; our bedroom -- the boys’ bedroom was on the far north end of the house on the east side. As we entered it, the Spanish woman said, “Ah, my bedroom.” I said, “No, no my bedroom!” We used to sleep in here and I think that was before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
There was a window on the north side of the house and I noticed that there was a cabinet placed in front of it. The lady said, “Oh yes, we put that there so that people can’t peek in.” I don’t know why they’d want to peek in at her, but anyway, that’s what they did. They had the door painted that went out on the east wall where we would go outside. We kids would sneak out sometimes and go play and then come back in. She said, “No door, no door.” There was a door but they had painted it shut. It didn’t have a window and it was just an old solid door that was no longer used.
We went into the front room and oh, I remembered my chair just like that one I’ve got in the kitchen you’ve all seen me sit in. I says, “I remember that was Dad’s chair. Anybody could sit in it, but that was Dad’s chair and usually we got out, like you people do now when you’re in my chair, you get out and I just appreciate that.
Your kind mother saw an old chair like that and she bought it and had it recovered in leather just for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that. That brought back memories.
I’ve gone by it several times after I’ve gone to the cemetery. Today when I drove by there was a man who had the door open and was sitting inside the door. I thought I’ll just go back and see if I can go through the old house where Arleen and I lived the very first week we were married—my folks’ house. So I turned around and went back and I went up to him and I says, “I used to live here. Could I go through the house and look at it? Well he was a Spanish man around 35 years old I imagine. He couldn’t speak a word of English and I couldn’t speak a word of Spanish. I was just about to turn around when a little old scrawny lady, about 65 to 70 year in age said, “Can I help you?” “Yes”, I answered. I used to live in this house and was wondering if I could go through it and look at it and just reminisce a minute”. She says, “Yes you can, come in. Are you hungry?” I said, “No” and she invited me inside. As we went in I said, “This is the kitchen. The sink is right over there where it was, gosh it’d been 50 years ago or more. And I looked and I said, “Oh, this window here, we used to look out and see the trains.” She said, “Trains yes!” But they don’t have the trains like they used to then with the steam locomotives, passenger trains, freight trains, troop trains carrying the soldiers from WWII. I looked and she said, “Not many trains”, and I agreed.
We went further into the house and I said, “Ahhh… Mother and Dad’s bedroom. It was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon – it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it, we could, but that is where she kept it. I told her one time, I says, “ Mother, why don’t you put that wine in smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up”? She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it. But anyway, we went into the bedroom and it brought those memories into my mind.
The house only had two bedrooms; our bedroom -- the boys’ bedroom was on the far north end of the house on the east side. As we entered it, the Spanish woman said, “Ah, my bedroom.” I said, “No, no my bedroom!” We used to sleep in here and I think that was before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
There was a window on the north side of the house and I noticed that there was a cabinet placed in front of it. The lady said, “Oh yes, we put that there so that people can’t peek in.” I don’t know why they’d want to peek in at her, but anyway, that’s what they did. They had the door painted that went out on the east wall where we would go outside. We kids would sneak out sometimes and go play and then come back in. She said, “No door, no door.” There was a door but they had painted it shut. It didn’t have a window and it was just an old solid door that was no longer used.
We went into the front room and oh, I remembered my chair just like that one I’ve got in the kitchen you’ve all seen me sit in. I says, “I remember that was Dad’s chair. Anybody could sit in it, but that was Dad’s chair and usually we got out, like you people do now when you’re in my chair, you get out and I just appreciate that.
Your kind mother saw an old chair like that and she bought it and had it recovered in leather just for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that. That brought back memories.
Where I Grew up
I was born in Spanish Fork Utah on February the 3rd, 1928, and so I missed being a ground hog by one day. Once I was talking to a man in my ward who was born on the same day, and told him that he missed being a groundhog by one day. I think he was insulted, and then I asked him if he knew when groundhogs day was. He didn’t know, so I explained that groundhogs day is February 2nd, and every year on that day people gather around a groundhog to see if he comes out of his burrow. If the sun shines, and he sees his shadow, then we get 6 more weeks of winter, but if he didn’t see his shadow, winter would be officially over. He was a little tickled at that, and every birthday after that he would ask me if I was a ground hog yet. Also, my grandson Hans, who is in medical school now, was born on my birthday. He would probably be close to 30.
As a young child, we moved over to Provo, in with my Grandpa. Why? I don’t know. We lived with grandpa for several years. Grandpa’s first wife had died, and then he married Aunt Jesse. That’s all we knew her as, is Aunt Jesse. She was a plump little woman, and was very nice. We all like her. They lived in the south part of the house, and we lived on the north side. There was a great big living room, in the middle . Each side had 2 bedrooms, and then we shared the kitchen. On the west side of the house we had a little ol’ porch that went out, and they had their porch on the east side. The house had big 12 foot ceilings, and was heated with wood. The walls would get dirty with soot from the furnace, and often our mother would send us to the store to get little packets of wall cleaner. The wall cleaner was made of pink squares in wax paper, about inch and a half thick by 4 inches tall by 3 inches wide. We’d take about 1/4 or 1/6 of it out, and mold it between our fingers until it was soft and pliable. Then you’d rub it up and down the walls, and it would take the dirt off.
After we lived there a while, Uncle Raymond and my Dad lowered the ceilings down to 8 foot. They had to chop into the wall in each side and run rafters across. That was a long hard thing, but us kids enjoyed the project!
We all ate together in the kitchen. When we’d go in there to eat, Grandpa and my dad drank coffee. Now my mom, me and my sister Carol didn’t drink coffee, but my brothers Glade and Harold did. Dad would take a thermos of coffee to work, but wouldn’t drink it all. When he’d get home, Glade and Harold would fight over who got the coffee, but I never did like it.
I really enjoyed eating with my Grandpa. His favorite breakfast was bailed hay. Did you ever have bailed hay? It was actually shredded wheat, but he called it bailed hay. Grandpa would take that bailed hay and scrunch it up into little pieces, put it into the bowl, put a big spoonful of sugar on it, and then he’d pour the milk over it. He’s eat that bailed hay, and whenever we got some, we sure though that was a treat. When he’d get all through eating, he’d have a little milk left in the bottom, He’d then take a raw egg and crack it on the side of the bowl, dump it in with the milk, and then take that bowl and sip it down. Grandpa would sip an egg down every time he had bailed hay.
Us kids liked bailed hay too, though we usually got corn flakes. Sometimes if we was real lucky we got “Wheaties”, with Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy, on the front of the cereal box. Now they got famous athletes on it, but then it was Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy. There was on a little program on the radio that played every single week about Jack Armstrong that we liked to listen to.
When dad got enough seniority at the railroad, the put him on steady year round work, and we moved over to 5th south and 4th west, right next to the Utah wholesale. As soon as we moved over there, we needed new shingles on the house. So we got up into the attic to see what it was like. In the attic was a lot of corn husks, corn stalks, and newspapers—it was all insulation—that’s what they used back then to keep the heat in. We got wooden shingles at Spear Lumber Co., which is out of business now. The store was first called Spear Lumber Co., then Telluride lumber, then Standard Builder’s Supply, and the last in there was Stockbuilders. There isn’t anyone in there now. Anyway, we bought these bundles of shingles—right on the top of the box of shingles it said “If you use galvanized nails on these shingles, they are guaranteed to last 50 years.” Coming back from the cemetery I like to go by that house and look at it, and I’ve noticed they got tar paper shingles on it now, but those wooden ones we put on did last close to 50 years.
The house only had two bedrooms: the boys’ bedroom, and Mom and Dad’s. The boy’s was on the far north end of the house on the east side. We used to sleep in there before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
Mother and Dad’s bedroom was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon—it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it we could. I told her one time, I says, “Mother, why don’t you put that wine in a smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up?” She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it.
I guess we was poor, but didn’t know it, because everyone else was the same way. It was a very good neighborhood. We used to play in the evening, and at night we’d go out and play kick the can and hide and seek. We usually played right in front of our house, ‘cause right in front of our house was a street light—they were only on the block corners back then, not like they are now in between the streets. I do remember my mother would come out and play, and some of the other neighbor mothers would get out and play, and a couple of the fathers. But I don’t remember my father ever coming out to play with us in the street. Killpack come out and played.
Sometimes we’d play hide and go seek just with our family. Mom and dad would sit on that old wooden porch while we played. My older brother Harold had a big black dog that was named blacky. That dog would always run around looking for us during the game, and wouldn’t make a noise when he found any of us kids. But as soon as he’d find Harold, he’d bark and bark, and then run back to the porch and sit between Mom and Dad. Then Harold would get aggravated with him…. When Harold was it, that dog would go with him.
Thinking about that house and neighborhood brings so many memories into my mind. That is the house my younger brothers, Stanley and Warren, and my sister Carol, were born in. It is where Arleen and I stayed our first week of marriage. I hope you kids can think of our house and have good memories just like we did.
As a young child, we moved over to Provo, in with my Grandpa. Why? I don’t know. We lived with grandpa for several years. Grandpa’s first wife had died, and then he married Aunt Jesse. That’s all we knew her as, is Aunt Jesse. She was a plump little woman, and was very nice. We all like her. They lived in the south part of the house, and we lived on the north side. There was a great big living room, in the middle . Each side had 2 bedrooms, and then we shared the kitchen. On the west side of the house we had a little ol’ porch that went out, and they had their porch on the east side. The house had big 12 foot ceilings, and was heated with wood. The walls would get dirty with soot from the furnace, and often our mother would send us to the store to get little packets of wall cleaner. The wall cleaner was made of pink squares in wax paper, about inch and a half thick by 4 inches tall by 3 inches wide. We’d take about 1/4 or 1/6 of it out, and mold it between our fingers until it was soft and pliable. Then you’d rub it up and down the walls, and it would take the dirt off.
After we lived there a while, Uncle Raymond and my Dad lowered the ceilings down to 8 foot. They had to chop into the wall in each side and run rafters across. That was a long hard thing, but us kids enjoyed the project!
We all ate together in the kitchen. When we’d go in there to eat, Grandpa and my dad drank coffee. Now my mom, me and my sister Carol didn’t drink coffee, but my brothers Glade and Harold did. Dad would take a thermos of coffee to work, but wouldn’t drink it all. When he’d get home, Glade and Harold would fight over who got the coffee, but I never did like it.
I really enjoyed eating with my Grandpa. His favorite breakfast was bailed hay. Did you ever have bailed hay? It was actually shredded wheat, but he called it bailed hay. Grandpa would take that bailed hay and scrunch it up into little pieces, put it into the bowl, put a big spoonful of sugar on it, and then he’d pour the milk over it. He’s eat that bailed hay, and whenever we got some, we sure though that was a treat. When he’d get all through eating, he’d have a little milk left in the bottom, He’d then take a raw egg and crack it on the side of the bowl, dump it in with the milk, and then take that bowl and sip it down. Grandpa would sip an egg down every time he had bailed hay.
Us kids liked bailed hay too, though we usually got corn flakes. Sometimes if we was real lucky we got “Wheaties”, with Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy, on the front of the cereal box. Now they got famous athletes on it, but then it was Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy. There was on a little program on the radio that played every single week about Jack Armstrong that we liked to listen to.
When dad got enough seniority at the railroad, the put him on steady year round work, and we moved over to 5th south and 4th west, right next to the Utah wholesale. As soon as we moved over there, we needed new shingles on the house. So we got up into the attic to see what it was like. In the attic was a lot of corn husks, corn stalks, and newspapers—it was all insulation—that’s what they used back then to keep the heat in. We got wooden shingles at Spear Lumber Co., which is out of business now. The store was first called Spear Lumber Co., then Telluride lumber, then Standard Builder’s Supply, and the last in there was Stockbuilders. There isn’t anyone in there now. Anyway, we bought these bundles of shingles—right on the top of the box of shingles it said “If you use galvanized nails on these shingles, they are guaranteed to last 50 years.” Coming back from the cemetery I like to go by that house and look at it, and I’ve noticed they got tar paper shingles on it now, but those wooden ones we put on did last close to 50 years.
The house only had two bedrooms: the boys’ bedroom, and Mom and Dad’s. The boy’s was on the far north end of the house on the east side. We used to sleep in there before Carol was born. I remember Harold and me and Glade sleeping in that one room; most of the time we slept in one bed.
Mother and Dad’s bedroom was a big room just west of the kitchen. You walked through a little four foot hallway into their bedroom. I remember Mother couldn’t sleep at night. She went to the doctor one time and he prescribed some sleep medicine for her. Mother was not a drinker and she told the doctor, “What few, very few, very very few times I have drank wine it has made me very sleepy”. He said to her, “If wine makes you sleepy it is much cheaper than this medicine, so why don’t you just buy yourself a little bit of wine and take a spoonful at night before you go to bed and that will help you sleep.
Well, I remember Mother’s closet. It was on the northeast side of their bedroom and it had a door you went inside. There were some shelves and two or three feet of space to hang clothes. Mother couldn’t reach the top shelf, but she had a little stool that she stood on. She kept a gallon of wine up there. I don’t know why she bought a gallon—it was probably cheaper, less than a dollar back then. I remember Mother climbing up on her step stool, taking that gallon bottle down, taking a spoon, and filling the spoon right out of the bottle and drinking it, putting the lid back on the bottle of wine, and putting it back up on that top shelf.
Why she kept it up there I don’t know. Everybody knew where it was. If we wanted to get it we could. I told her one time, I says, “Mother, why don’t you put that wine in a smaller bottle and put it down here on the lower shelf where you don’t have to climb up?” She answered, “That’s where I want to keep that wine. I don’t want you kids getting into it.” Gosh, we could have gotten into it anytime we wanted! I think Glade and I got into it once but that was all; we didn’t like it.
I guess we was poor, but didn’t know it, because everyone else was the same way. It was a very good neighborhood. We used to play in the evening, and at night we’d go out and play kick the can and hide and seek. We usually played right in front of our house, ‘cause right in front of our house was a street light—they were only on the block corners back then, not like they are now in between the streets. I do remember my mother would come out and play, and some of the other neighbor mothers would get out and play, and a couple of the fathers. But I don’t remember my father ever coming out to play with us in the street. Killpack come out and played.
Sometimes we’d play hide and go seek just with our family. Mom and dad would sit on that old wooden porch while we played. My older brother Harold had a big black dog that was named blacky. That dog would always run around looking for us during the game, and wouldn’t make a noise when he found any of us kids. But as soon as he’d find Harold, he’d bark and bark, and then run back to the porch and sit between Mom and Dad. Then Harold would get aggravated with him…. When Harold was it, that dog would go with him.
Thinking about that house and neighborhood brings so many memories into my mind. That is the house my younger brothers, Stanley and Warren, and my sister Carol, were born in. It is where Arleen and I stayed our first week of marriage. I hope you kids can think of our house and have good memories just like we did.
Grandpa’s Chair
You kids know it as “The Grandpa Chair”. My brown leather chair in the kitchen is one of the nicest things Mother ever did for me. I was always so thrilled that if any of you kids were sitting in it, and I’d come home, you’d jump up out of it and that chair would be for me. I don’t know if Mother told you that was my chair or if you just knew it was my chair, but you respected me enough that you got out when I came home. I appreciate it, and I love that chair. My Dad had a chair that was treated the same—anybody could sit in it, but that was Dad’s chair and usually we got out, like you people do now when you’re in my chair. Us dads and grandpas sure do appreciate that.
Your kind mother saw that chair down by Dixon Junior High School back when we only had a couple of kids. She had it recovered and brought it home for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that.
A few of years ago, in about 1999, we’d had that chair about 25 years. The leather had gotten worn and there were holes in it. Arleen said to me, “Dad that chair looks worn. I think I’ll get it covered,” and I said, “No, I like it that way.” But she said, “No, it looks too bad”. So we went down to an upholstering company, Russell’s Upholstery, down at the bottom of the hill and asked if he could cover that chair. He came out and looked and said, “Yes. I can cover that chair for around $500 to $700. I’ll have to get two cow hides because it’s such a big chair it will take a lot of leather. I’ll try to match them as close as I can”. He left and Mother said, “I’m not going to have him put two different colors of leather on that for you!”
Your mother called Phil Hanson, an expert in upholstery from Springville. He does his work well . . . and his work suits Mother. She called him and he said that he could cover the chair. He told her that he would get one big hide and that would cost her a little more, about $1000 to do the job. She gave him the job and told him she wanted it covered right for Dad. She got me that chair covered and oh, I’ve enjoyed it.
Even now and then I sit in that chair and think about Arleen. It has been nine months since your mother died, and I sit in that chair and look at the picture of Mother and me on the wall in the front room. What a wonderful woman she was; what a wonderful woman she is—a wonderful mother. We could never ask for a better mother or wife and it brings back many fond memories to sit in that chair, both as a child in my father’s chair, and now, in the chair your mother bought for me and had it covered twice. She was such a wonderful wife and mother. I love and miss her so much.
Your kind mother saw that chair down by Dixon Junior High School back when we only had a couple of kids. She had it recovered and brought it home for me. She was the kindest, sweetest woman and mother you kids could have ever had. How I loved her for that.
A few of years ago, in about 1999, we’d had that chair about 25 years. The leather had gotten worn and there were holes in it. Arleen said to me, “Dad that chair looks worn. I think I’ll get it covered,” and I said, “No, I like it that way.” But she said, “No, it looks too bad”. So we went down to an upholstering company, Russell’s Upholstery, down at the bottom of the hill and asked if he could cover that chair. He came out and looked and said, “Yes. I can cover that chair for around $500 to $700. I’ll have to get two cow hides because it’s such a big chair it will take a lot of leather. I’ll try to match them as close as I can”. He left and Mother said, “I’m not going to have him put two different colors of leather on that for you!”
Your mother called Phil Hanson, an expert in upholstery from Springville. He does his work well . . . and his work suits Mother. She called him and he said that he could cover the chair. He told her that he would get one big hide and that would cost her a little more, about $1000 to do the job. She gave him the job and told him she wanted it covered right for Dad. She got me that chair covered and oh, I’ve enjoyed it.
Even now and then I sit in that chair and think about Arleen. It has been nine months since your mother died, and I sit in that chair and look at the picture of Mother and me on the wall in the front room. What a wonderful woman she was; what a wonderful woman she is—a wonderful mother. We could never ask for a better mother or wife and it brings back many fond memories to sit in that chair, both as a child in my father’s chair, and now, in the chair your mother bought for me and had it covered twice. She was such a wonderful wife and mother. I love and miss her so much.
Bill Loy and Utah Lake
I went to school with a boy named Bill Loy. His father was a commercial fisherman down at Utah Lake, and they would use big nets to saine the carp. They would use it for dog food, and I guess some people would eat it too. They called carp the Utah Trout. I remember down there they had the wooden boxes that were four feet long, one and a half feet wide, and about two feet deep. Some of those carp were so big the head would stick out of one end of the box, and the tail would stick out of the other! They must have been six foot long.
Occasionally, they would saine it and they’d get a trout and they were supposed to throw all the trout back in cause they’re a game fish. Once in a while they’d forget one, and Bill’s dad would g’me one to take home. Mom would cook it up and it was good. We even took small carp and took them home, but they weren’t as good. Sometimes my mom would take the carp and cut them up into little pieces, and have us kids throw them at the chickens.
Bill ran the operation after his dad retired, and his son runs it now.
About the same time that the saining operation was going on, the sewer went down into Utah Lake. It flowed through the 1st Ward Pasture, which is where Glade and I used to go hunting a lot. That crick was called Shit Crick. That was the name of it. You’d see the turds floating down, and when you got cold, you’d go stick your feet in it, because the water was warm. You’d stand, and watch the trash go by, and then you’d get out and go hunting. This was in the winter when you’re feet would get cold. You didn’t get your hands in it, but you walked in with your rubber boots. Though it didn’t smell, you never wanted to fall in! It was about two to three and a half feet deep. Sometimes you’d get in two or three times if it was cold and you hunted for a long time. YOU NEVER CAUGHT ANY FISH OUTA’ IT! I remember going down there for years. My brother Glade was quite a hunter. I think he fell in the crick one time. We probably went home ‘cause he got good and wet.
Occasionally, they would saine it and they’d get a trout and they were supposed to throw all the trout back in cause they’re a game fish. Once in a while they’d forget one, and Bill’s dad would g’me one to take home. Mom would cook it up and it was good. We even took small carp and took them home, but they weren’t as good. Sometimes my mom would take the carp and cut them up into little pieces, and have us kids throw them at the chickens.
Bill ran the operation after his dad retired, and his son runs it now.
About the same time that the saining operation was going on, the sewer went down into Utah Lake. It flowed through the 1st Ward Pasture, which is where Glade and I used to go hunting a lot. That crick was called Shit Crick. That was the name of it. You’d see the turds floating down, and when you got cold, you’d go stick your feet in it, because the water was warm. You’d stand, and watch the trash go by, and then you’d get out and go hunting. This was in the winter when you’re feet would get cold. You didn’t get your hands in it, but you walked in with your rubber boots. Though it didn’t smell, you never wanted to fall in! It was about two to three and a half feet deep. Sometimes you’d get in two or three times if it was cold and you hunted for a long time. YOU NEVER CAUGHT ANY FISH OUTA’ IT! I remember going down there for years. My brother Glade was quite a hunter. I think he fell in the crick one time. We probably went home ‘cause he got good and wet.
New Hay House
Last year, I was talking to Stacy and I says, “What will it take to put a new roof on that hay barn? It leaks, and gets my hay wet. I cover it, but it still gets my hay wet, and some gets moldy so I have to throw it out.” He says, “Well, don’t worry about it, I take care of it,” and I said “OK.”
One day I went down, and there was a bunch of steel beams down there. I asked Stacy, “Did you know that there are a bunch of steel beams down at my farm?” He said, “Yeah, we took them down.” I asked, “What are you going to do?” He said, “Oh we just needed a place to put them so I just put them down there.”
Well, I went down Saturday, and Stacy and Brian his boss were hauling those beams down to the hay house. I looked, and they tore the roof off of the barn! I said, “Laws, what happened?” He said, “Well, we are gonna put these beams up.” A little while a here come a truck with a bunch of ply board on it. Then a little while later and here came a truck with a welder and cutting torch on the back. They had a big high end lift loader. This was about 8 o’clock in the morning in the morning. I came home at 10:00 am and told Arleen, “Brian and his crew are down working on that hay shed.” She said, “What should we do?” I said I don’t know,” so I just went back and started to help them. Laws they was cutting steel beams for the support. At about 11:30am, I could see that they were going to be there all day. I went home to mother and said, “Mother, you’d better go get them some boys some hamburgers for those boys. There is about three men working and then you and I.”
So she went and got french fries, drinks, and some hamburgers. She took them and down to a shady spot by the pasture, and hollered at the men, “Come on, let’s have something to eat!” She got the burgers out, and they had paper sacks with their names on them. She distributed the food, and the boys sat on the ground or on the tail gate of the trucks. Brian came over and pulled out his wallet, and said “How much do I owe you?” I guess you can imagine what Grandma said: “Oh Garbage!” They all started to laugh, and she said, “Well, what’s so funny?” Mother says “Oh garbage” so much that she doesn’t realize she says it sometimes.” They all thanked her for that dinner, and you’d of thought they workers were doing nothing by how grateful they were.
I asked the welder how much they usually charge for a job like this, and he said, “Oh, I would charge you about 65 dollars an hour. But Stacy has come up and pored cement for me, and Brian has come up and done work . . . Later I asked Stacy, “Well, what do I owe you?” “Nothing,” he said. “Well, where did you get all the steel and ply board?” “Oh, we’ve got a big job in Spanish Fork, and this was surplus, so they let me have it at surplus price”. He wouldn’t tell me how much I owed him. You know, that is the kind of people that you associate with. They wouldn’t take any money. That welder said, “Oh hey, it’s a pleasure to come do jobs like this for people like you, especially your wife!”
One day I went down, and there was a bunch of steel beams down there. I asked Stacy, “Did you know that there are a bunch of steel beams down at my farm?” He said, “Yeah, we took them down.” I asked, “What are you going to do?” He said, “Oh we just needed a place to put them so I just put them down there.”
Well, I went down Saturday, and Stacy and Brian his boss were hauling those beams down to the hay house. I looked, and they tore the roof off of the barn! I said, “Laws, what happened?” He said, “Well, we are gonna put these beams up.” A little while a here come a truck with a bunch of ply board on it. Then a little while later and here came a truck with a welder and cutting torch on the back. They had a big high end lift loader. This was about 8 o’clock in the morning in the morning. I came home at 10:00 am and told Arleen, “Brian and his crew are down working on that hay shed.” She said, “What should we do?” I said I don’t know,” so I just went back and started to help them. Laws they was cutting steel beams for the support. At about 11:30am, I could see that they were going to be there all day. I went home to mother and said, “Mother, you’d better go get them some boys some hamburgers for those boys. There is about three men working and then you and I.”
So she went and got french fries, drinks, and some hamburgers. She took them and down to a shady spot by the pasture, and hollered at the men, “Come on, let’s have something to eat!” She got the burgers out, and they had paper sacks with their names on them. She distributed the food, and the boys sat on the ground or on the tail gate of the trucks. Brian came over and pulled out his wallet, and said “How much do I owe you?” I guess you can imagine what Grandma said: “Oh Garbage!” They all started to laugh, and she said, “Well, what’s so funny?” Mother says “Oh garbage” so much that she doesn’t realize she says it sometimes.” They all thanked her for that dinner, and you’d of thought they workers were doing nothing by how grateful they were.
I asked the welder how much they usually charge for a job like this, and he said, “Oh, I would charge you about 65 dollars an hour. But Stacy has come up and pored cement for me, and Brian has come up and done work . . . Later I asked Stacy, “Well, what do I owe you?” “Nothing,” he said. “Well, where did you get all the steel and ply board?” “Oh, we’ve got a big job in Spanish Fork, and this was surplus, so they let me have it at surplus price”. He wouldn’t tell me how much I owed him. You know, that is the kind of people that you associate with. They wouldn’t take any money. That welder said, “Oh hey, it’s a pleasure to come do jobs like this for people like you, especially your wife!”
Cabbage Salad
As most of you know we had a big garden down on the farm and we raised all kind of vegetables. Oh gosh we had a big, big garden and we ate out of it most all of the fall. We had a root cellar out in the old dog house I dug out underneath. We put potatoes, cabbages, and some apples. We put some tomatoes down there but they didn’t do good. We tried keeping them on the vines and wrapping them in paper but nothing really worked to keep the tomatoes from spoiling.
I remember one time we went to a banquet out at the stake center that Arleen took a cabbage salad to. Before she made it, I went down to the garden and brought her a fresh head of cabbage. Boy she made a good salad. It was better than coleslaw. She put shredded cabbage, a little Miracle Whip and a little mayonnaise. It couldn’t be salad dressing—I got in trouble a time or two trying to do it differently. She would add little chunks of pineapple because that’s what I liked. Some of the kids liked raisins, but she knew I didn’t like raisins and so she would always put in the pineapple for me.
Arleen took this salad down to the Stake House. There was a banquet for the whole stake and a lot of people were there. Rene and Bob Wild came and sat by us. Arleen sat her salad by where we eating. The dinner was served family style with all the food set on the table. Rene Wild took a big serving of Arleen’s salad and the lady across the table from us she took just a tiny bit on her fork and tasted it. She said, “I can’t eat this salad because it has sugar in it.” Mother told her that there was no sugar in it , that she had just made it fresh from the garden and that it was less than an hour old. The woman couldn’t believe it and asked twice more, “Are you sure there’s no sugar in it?” Finally, after much reassurance, she took a serving of it and raved about it all through the meal saying, “Oh this is good, this is really good!” When it was time to go home we retrieved the bowl and of course it was empty.
This became a little joke between us. Every time Arleen made her cabbage salad after that dinner she would always say, “It’s okay, you can eat this salad. I didn’t put any sugar in it!” I knew what she was referring to and it always made us chuckle. The people around us didn’t know, but we did.
Your mother was really a wonderful woman and she used to cook wonderful meals. We had a lot of good meals right out of the garden, we didn’t buy anything but used the food we grew. You can thank your mother for that.
I remember one time we went to a banquet out at the stake center that Arleen took a cabbage salad to. Before she made it, I went down to the garden and brought her a fresh head of cabbage. Boy she made a good salad. It was better than coleslaw. She put shredded cabbage, a little Miracle Whip and a little mayonnaise. It couldn’t be salad dressing—I got in trouble a time or two trying to do it differently. She would add little chunks of pineapple because that’s what I liked. Some of the kids liked raisins, but she knew I didn’t like raisins and so she would always put in the pineapple for me.
Arleen took this salad down to the Stake House. There was a banquet for the whole stake and a lot of people were there. Rene and Bob Wild came and sat by us. Arleen sat her salad by where we eating. The dinner was served family style with all the food set on the table. Rene Wild took a big serving of Arleen’s salad and the lady across the table from us she took just a tiny bit on her fork and tasted it. She said, “I can’t eat this salad because it has sugar in it.” Mother told her that there was no sugar in it , that she had just made it fresh from the garden and that it was less than an hour old. The woman couldn’t believe it and asked twice more, “Are you sure there’s no sugar in it?” Finally, after much reassurance, she took a serving of it and raved about it all through the meal saying, “Oh this is good, this is really good!” When it was time to go home we retrieved the bowl and of course it was empty.
This became a little joke between us. Every time Arleen made her cabbage salad after that dinner she would always say, “It’s okay, you can eat this salad. I didn’t put any sugar in it!” I knew what she was referring to and it always made us chuckle. The people around us didn’t know, but we did.
Your mother was really a wonderful woman and she used to cook wonderful meals. We had a lot of good meals right out of the garden, we didn’t buy anything but used the food we grew. You can thank your mother for that.
Newly Weds and My Advice
We couldn’t find an apartment after our wedding, so we lived at home for a week. We slept in the boys’ bedroom, in the northeast corner in Grandpa’s house. While we were there, Harold and Glade stayed on the floor in the front room. Grandpa’s house was right next to the railroad tracks. I remember the first night we as there. They blew their whistle, and oh did that frighten Arleen. She jumped over and I held her. That was the first time she had heard a train whistle that close. We laughed about it, and she got to where she enjoyed hearing the train whistles. Later when we’d go down to the farm, she’d listened to the whistles. First there were steam engines, and later came the diesel engines. She’d say “Oh I miss those steam whistles” The diesel engines where yellow, and she’d say “I wish they’d put those steam whistles on the yellow engines. That was quite fun.
Mom was pleasant, and she made breakfast for us. Arleen was awful nervous—of course she was with three boys—she hadn’t been around all boys all the time. But they treated her nice, and she liked it. Then we moved and went to Mrs. Clark’s.
After that first week, we got an apartment on 5th North and 4th West. It was right across from North Park in Provo. Our landlord, Mrs. Clark was a funny old lady. She had a grandson, Sterling Clark, who I had gone to school with. She wasn’t the best landlord though. One time Arleen baked bread in that apartment, and when she took the loaf out it was burnt black on one side, and had coal dust all over it. We looked, and one side of the oven was burnt out. It was right next to the flame, and it had just burned it black. We told Mrs. Clark that she needed to get a new stove, and she said, “No, that one is good.”
We only stayed there until we found another apartment. That was the last time she baked bread there though. Arleen got us by cooking mostly on the top of the stove. We’d heat water, and have a lot of oatmeal. She was a good cook, always has been, and always will be. In fact, I don’t know one thing about Arleen that wasn’t good. She was the best wife.
All of our children have been married. Some have had struggles, but, our boys have always treated their wives graciously. I would say to our grandkids that are getting married: “Get along!”. Talk things out and try to agree with each other. You are not going to agree on everything, but it’s better to give a little than to break—better to bend a wee bit than to beak. It’s a bad thing to argue, especially over money. Money—it’s important, but I don’t think it’s the deciding thing in a marriage. I think there’s more trouble over money than anything else.
Get along! Love each other. Respect each other. Grandma once made a comment that amazed me. We were talking some friends, and they said, “What is it you like about Bob?” She said, “The thing I like about Bob—he never criticizes me in public.” And that was years after we were married. Probably we’d been married 30 or 40 years, and somebody asked me, “Is there anything you don’t like about Arleen?” I said, “Ok, let me think . . .” and I thought a little while, and they looked at me and said, “Well?”I told ‘em, “Give me one more minute.” Now they had a watch, and they timed me, and told me when the minute was up. I said, “Really, the only thing I don’t like about Arleen is she spoils me. You know she spoils me so bad, I got to stinking. One day, one of the Ellison kids (our neighbors) came over and said to Arleen, ‘Would you please let us close your windows, because something stinks over here, and we don’t like it.’ You know, I think it was that Arleen had spoiled me so bad I started to stink.” So just love each other, and take care of each other. That’s my advice.
Mom was pleasant, and she made breakfast for us. Arleen was awful nervous—of course she was with three boys—she hadn’t been around all boys all the time. But they treated her nice, and she liked it. Then we moved and went to Mrs. Clark’s.
After that first week, we got an apartment on 5th North and 4th West. It was right across from North Park in Provo. Our landlord, Mrs. Clark was a funny old lady. She had a grandson, Sterling Clark, who I had gone to school with. She wasn’t the best landlord though. One time Arleen baked bread in that apartment, and when she took the loaf out it was burnt black on one side, and had coal dust all over it. We looked, and one side of the oven was burnt out. It was right next to the flame, and it had just burned it black. We told Mrs. Clark that she needed to get a new stove, and she said, “No, that one is good.”
We only stayed there until we found another apartment. That was the last time she baked bread there though. Arleen got us by cooking mostly on the top of the stove. We’d heat water, and have a lot of oatmeal. She was a good cook, always has been, and always will be. In fact, I don’t know one thing about Arleen that wasn’t good. She was the best wife.
All of our children have been married. Some have had struggles, but, our boys have always treated their wives graciously. I would say to our grandkids that are getting married: “Get along!”. Talk things out and try to agree with each other. You are not going to agree on everything, but it’s better to give a little than to break—better to bend a wee bit than to beak. It’s a bad thing to argue, especially over money. Money—it’s important, but I don’t think it’s the deciding thing in a marriage. I think there’s more trouble over money than anything else.
Get along! Love each other. Respect each other. Grandma once made a comment that amazed me. We were talking some friends, and they said, “What is it you like about Bob?” She said, “The thing I like about Bob—he never criticizes me in public.” And that was years after we were married. Probably we’d been married 30 or 40 years, and somebody asked me, “Is there anything you don’t like about Arleen?” I said, “Ok, let me think . . .” and I thought a little while, and they looked at me and said, “Well?”I told ‘em, “Give me one more minute.” Now they had a watch, and they timed me, and told me when the minute was up. I said, “Really, the only thing I don’t like about Arleen is she spoils me. You know she spoils me so bad, I got to stinking. One day, one of the Ellison kids (our neighbors) came over and said to Arleen, ‘Would you please let us close your windows, because something stinks over here, and we don’t like it.’ You know, I think it was that Arleen had spoiled me so bad I started to stink.” So just love each other, and take care of each other. That’s my advice.
Stories About Children and Grandchildren:
Tafta
Tafta was going to B.Y. High. One morning while walking to school, a little boy who was just learning to ride his bicycle ran into her and knocked her to the ground. She was laying there, and the boy looked over her and asked, “Are you dead?” She replied, “No.” “Well, will you help me back on my bicycle then?”, he asked. Tafta still had the kindness to say “OK,” get herself up, and then get the boy got back on his bike. Then he wobbled on his way. After she gathered her books up, she went to school with her bruised and skinned knees.
B.Y. High was a private Church owned school, and most of the kids came from well to-do. At school, the kids would pull other kids collars down, to see if they were wearing a Jansen Sweater, which was popular then. If you didn’t have a Jansen label, you were ostracized. One day Tafta came home crying cause they pulled her collar, and the label wasn’t a Jansen. Mother was upset, ‘cause we couldn’t afford a Jansen Sweater, until she realized she had bought me a Jansen Sweater. She asked me if she could take the label off of my sweater, and sew it on one of Tafta’s sweaters. Arleen sewed that Jansen label on one of Tafta’s nice sweaters, and that tickled her quite a bit. She wore her Jansen sweater more than any other.
Robert
Robert was the first one in the family to take ski lessons. When he came home the first week, I said to him, “Robert, how did you do at skiing?” He proudly stated, “I only fell 250 times.” The next week he went, and came home, and I asked him, “Robert, how did you do this week?” He said, “Well Dad, this week I only fell 150 times.” The next week, I asked him the same thing. He said, “This time, I only fell 25 times.” Finally, about the 4th week, I asked him, “How did it go this week Robert?” He looked at me, and declared, “Dad, this week I didn’t fall at all. But even better, I fell less than Mike Patton!”
Wesley
Wesley was not wanting to finish high school. His wrestling coach, coach Martinez (most of the boys had him) helped him out quite at school. Wesley was great at wrestling. One time we went to Salt Lake City to go to some tournament. He was wrestling the boy that took State the year before, and boy was he tough. They were wrestling, and Wesley was one point ahead. With the clock running down, Wesley was arched, and the boy was trying to pin him, but he couldn’t get Wesley’s shoulder down. Just about the time the clock ran out, the referee banged his hand on the floor. The ref gave the boy two near-fall points, so he won by one point. Boy did the crowd come up. Coach Martinez was so mad he picked up his chair and threw it all the way across the ball court. So Wes lost by one point, but he should’ve won by one point. He really won that match, but that ref was a stubborn . . . Wes was a real good wrestler, probably the best in the family.
He was blessed in the old 2nd ward. When we filled out the birth card that you do when you bless them, we were going to name him Bryan. As I was getting ready to go up and bless him, his mother stopped me and said, “No, no, no, that isn’t his name, I don’t like that name”, so she named him Wesley. I don’t know where she got Wesley, but it fits him.
Kerry
One time Kerry was down to Bicknell to visit Grandpa and Grandma Taft. Uncle Mo found a little mouse, and he was playing with it. He gave it to Kerry. The mouse bit Kerry on the piece of skin between the forefinger and thumb. It got infected, so we took carry to the hospital in Provo. They said we were very lucky to bring him in here, because it could have killed him. He was in the hospital a week or more.
One day the nurse asked Kerry, “How many are in your family? You don’t look like you are getting enough food. Have you got brothers sisters?” Kerry, who has always been thin, said, “Well, there are five of us boys, and we’ve each got a sister”. So the nurse started bringing him extra food. We didn’t know about this until we got down that evening. The nurse said to us, “You’ve got a big family don’t you?” “Oh sure, yep, we do”, we responded. The nursed said, “Well, Kerry is not getting enough to eat. I am sure of it with how thin he is. And he told me that he has four brothers, and they each have a sister.” Mother started to laugh, but I responded, “Yes, that’s true”. When people asked about my family, I used to say, “We have one and a half dozen kids”. There were just a few people who realized what I was saying. Kerry did the same thing, and he sure got to eat good for it.
Stacy
When Stacy was in the Dixon Junior High School, the Principle got on the PA system one time and said, “Students and teachers, there are too many nicknames being used in this school. I don’t want the nick names used, I want their proper names being used. And that goes for the teachers as well as the students—oh by the way, Worm has got a new shirt on today. It’s really a beauty. You ought to all take a look and see what kind of shirt it is—whoops!, I mean Stacy.
While I as the temple one day, a white haired lady came down and talked to me, saying, “Do you know who I am?” I said, “No Ma’m, I don’t know who you are. She said, “I’m Sister Francis. You used to deliver the Deseret News to our house”. She was Roulan Francis’s wife, and I didn’t recognize her, but they were in our stake. she said , “You know what? I have had a lot of paper boys, but the best paper boy we ever had, was that boy of yours called Worm. I don’t know his name—he went by Worm. But he was the best paper boy we ever had.
Todd
When the boys got their Eagles, they had to have an Eagle Project. The boys have mostly done work at the church. At the time Todd got his Eagle, he decided to build a ramp with hand rails. OCEA required that you had a handrail next to the ramp so the handicapped people wouldn’t fall. Todd and I went over to Lyal Patton and asked him if we could get some pipe from mountain land plumbing for the rail. He said, “Yes, we’ll give you the pipe. He wouldn’t take any money; he donated it us because it was an Eagle Project. He also delivered the pipe because we didn’t have any way to get the pipe to the church.
Then we went down to Jim Filagin, who was a welder at Lowe Fabricating plant down in South Provo. He said, “Ya, I’ll help you”. So he got a template, cut the pipes so it would fit, and did a good looking job. We built the ramp from the front end of the building to the parking lot. It extended 22 feet. The law said you could only have so steep of a slope, so we had to make it real long. Ruth Adams used it. She was in a wheel chair. There was a man at Glenn Ellen’s house who was in a wheel chair and used the ramp. After they found out that Todd and I had built that (mostly Todd), they used to thank us all the time.
Well, the church decided that the steps going into there were a hazard. So they tore the steps out, and in the tearing out of the steps they also took out the ramp and handrail. There were quite a few people upset, because that hand rail that Todd built really helped a lot of people when they walked into the church.
Rett
When Rett got his Eagle Project, we didn’t know what to do. We got together and talked, and I think it was Bishop Bush or Ellis, who said, “We need a place for people to come into the church from outside. So Rett put a 4 foot ramp on the southeast entrance to the parking lot. Then he put another ramp going into the north door of the church. He put a pipe underneath it so the water could run out, and then built up the ramp. Little did he know that years later his mother would use both handicapped ramps to get into the church. Those ramps was not only built for then, but they have probably been in there for 20 years, and people still use them. That is quite an accomplishment for the boys to build those ramps, and Rett’s has stayed there for all that time. We maintained it red so cars wouldn’t park there, and they didn’t. When mother went to church in her little Jazzy, or in her wheelchair, she could just go right down there or up there, and didn’t have to make any steps. So those ramps that the boys have made as Eagle Scouts have really paid off. All of their projects have really been beneficial to the church members.
Tafta was going to B.Y. High. One morning while walking to school, a little boy who was just learning to ride his bicycle ran into her and knocked her to the ground. She was laying there, and the boy looked over her and asked, “Are you dead?” She replied, “No.” “Well, will you help me back on my bicycle then?”, he asked. Tafta still had the kindness to say “OK,” get herself up, and then get the boy got back on his bike. Then he wobbled on his way. After she gathered her books up, she went to school with her bruised and skinned knees.
B.Y. High was a private Church owned school, and most of the kids came from well to-do. At school, the kids would pull other kids collars down, to see if they were wearing a Jansen Sweater, which was popular then. If you didn’t have a Jansen label, you were ostracized. One day Tafta came home crying cause they pulled her collar, and the label wasn’t a Jansen. Mother was upset, ‘cause we couldn’t afford a Jansen Sweater, until she realized she had bought me a Jansen Sweater. She asked me if she could take the label off of my sweater, and sew it on one of Tafta’s sweaters. Arleen sewed that Jansen label on one of Tafta’s nice sweaters, and that tickled her quite a bit. She wore her Jansen sweater more than any other.
Robert
Robert was the first one in the family to take ski lessons. When he came home the first week, I said to him, “Robert, how did you do at skiing?” He proudly stated, “I only fell 250 times.” The next week he went, and came home, and I asked him, “Robert, how did you do this week?” He said, “Well Dad, this week I only fell 150 times.” The next week, I asked him the same thing. He said, “This time, I only fell 25 times.” Finally, about the 4th week, I asked him, “How did it go this week Robert?” He looked at me, and declared, “Dad, this week I didn’t fall at all. But even better, I fell less than Mike Patton!”
Wesley
Wesley was not wanting to finish high school. His wrestling coach, coach Martinez (most of the boys had him) helped him out quite at school. Wesley was great at wrestling. One time we went to Salt Lake City to go to some tournament. He was wrestling the boy that took State the year before, and boy was he tough. They were wrestling, and Wesley was one point ahead. With the clock running down, Wesley was arched, and the boy was trying to pin him, but he couldn’t get Wesley’s shoulder down. Just about the time the clock ran out, the referee banged his hand on the floor. The ref gave the boy two near-fall points, so he won by one point. Boy did the crowd come up. Coach Martinez was so mad he picked up his chair and threw it all the way across the ball court. So Wes lost by one point, but he should’ve won by one point. He really won that match, but that ref was a stubborn . . . Wes was a real good wrestler, probably the best in the family.
He was blessed in the old 2nd ward. When we filled out the birth card that you do when you bless them, we were going to name him Bryan. As I was getting ready to go up and bless him, his mother stopped me and said, “No, no, no, that isn’t his name, I don’t like that name”, so she named him Wesley. I don’t know where she got Wesley, but it fits him.
Kerry
One time Kerry was down to Bicknell to visit Grandpa and Grandma Taft. Uncle Mo found a little mouse, and he was playing with it. He gave it to Kerry. The mouse bit Kerry on the piece of skin between the forefinger and thumb. It got infected, so we took carry to the hospital in Provo. They said we were very lucky to bring him in here, because it could have killed him. He was in the hospital a week or more.
One day the nurse asked Kerry, “How many are in your family? You don’t look like you are getting enough food. Have you got brothers sisters?” Kerry, who has always been thin, said, “Well, there are five of us boys, and we’ve each got a sister”. So the nurse started bringing him extra food. We didn’t know about this until we got down that evening. The nurse said to us, “You’ve got a big family don’t you?” “Oh sure, yep, we do”, we responded. The nursed said, “Well, Kerry is not getting enough to eat. I am sure of it with how thin he is. And he told me that he has four brothers, and they each have a sister.” Mother started to laugh, but I responded, “Yes, that’s true”. When people asked about my family, I used to say, “We have one and a half dozen kids”. There were just a few people who realized what I was saying. Kerry did the same thing, and he sure got to eat good for it.
Stacy
When Stacy was in the Dixon Junior High School, the Principle got on the PA system one time and said, “Students and teachers, there are too many nicknames being used in this school. I don’t want the nick names used, I want their proper names being used. And that goes for the teachers as well as the students—oh by the way, Worm has got a new shirt on today. It’s really a beauty. You ought to all take a look and see what kind of shirt it is—whoops!, I mean Stacy.
While I as the temple one day, a white haired lady came down and talked to me, saying, “Do you know who I am?” I said, “No Ma’m, I don’t know who you are. She said, “I’m Sister Francis. You used to deliver the Deseret News to our house”. She was Roulan Francis’s wife, and I didn’t recognize her, but they were in our stake. she said , “You know what? I have had a lot of paper boys, but the best paper boy we ever had, was that boy of yours called Worm. I don’t know his name—he went by Worm. But he was the best paper boy we ever had.
Todd
When the boys got their Eagles, they had to have an Eagle Project. The boys have mostly done work at the church. At the time Todd got his Eagle, he decided to build a ramp with hand rails. OCEA required that you had a handrail next to the ramp so the handicapped people wouldn’t fall. Todd and I went over to Lyal Patton and asked him if we could get some pipe from mountain land plumbing for the rail. He said, “Yes, we’ll give you the pipe. He wouldn’t take any money; he donated it us because it was an Eagle Project. He also delivered the pipe because we didn’t have any way to get the pipe to the church.
Then we went down to Jim Filagin, who was a welder at Lowe Fabricating plant down in South Provo. He said, “Ya, I’ll help you”. So he got a template, cut the pipes so it would fit, and did a good looking job. We built the ramp from the front end of the building to the parking lot. It extended 22 feet. The law said you could only have so steep of a slope, so we had to make it real long. Ruth Adams used it. She was in a wheel chair. There was a man at Glenn Ellen’s house who was in a wheel chair and used the ramp. After they found out that Todd and I had built that (mostly Todd), they used to thank us all the time.
Well, the church decided that the steps going into there were a hazard. So they tore the steps out, and in the tearing out of the steps they also took out the ramp and handrail. There were quite a few people upset, because that hand rail that Todd built really helped a lot of people when they walked into the church.
Rett
When Rett got his Eagle Project, we didn’t know what to do. We got together and talked, and I think it was Bishop Bush or Ellis, who said, “We need a place for people to come into the church from outside. So Rett put a 4 foot ramp on the southeast entrance to the parking lot. Then he put another ramp going into the north door of the church. He put a pipe underneath it so the water could run out, and then built up the ramp. Little did he know that years later his mother would use both handicapped ramps to get into the church. Those ramps was not only built for then, but they have probably been in there for 20 years, and people still use them. That is quite an accomplishment for the boys to build those ramps, and Rett’s has stayed there for all that time. We maintained it red so cars wouldn’t park there, and they didn’t. When mother went to church in her little Jazzy, or in her wheelchair, she could just go right down there or up there, and didn’t have to make any steps. So those ramps that the boys have made as Eagle Scouts have really paid off. All of their projects have really been beneficial to the church members.
Work When Times Were Tough
My brother Harold worked at the Utah Wholesale when we lived down there on 4th West and 5th South. The Wholesale was just west of where we lived, and there were two brothers working there, Ed and Sam Copp. Ed was the foreman of the warehouse. He got me on working over there in the 9th grade of high school. They had cigarettes that had to have a stamp put on them. The stamps were just a trifle smaller than a postage stamp, and they came on big sheets that had 100 a piece on them. Each box had 10 cartons of cigarettes, and each carton had 10 packs of cigarettes that needed to be stamped. You’d tear a strip of stamps off, wet it, and put a stamp on each box. The person who worked there before me was quite ingenious, in that he had a wet rag that he’d use to dampen the stamps before sticking them to the boxes. The problem was, the rag would get you wet all over your clothes. So I made me a little box, and later Dad, who was a sheet metal man, made me one out of sheet metal. It was just the size of a cotex, and we made it so you could put a cotex in and get it wet and run it across the stamps to get them wet. It was very handy.
Anyway, that Ed Copp was an ornery fella, and he swore like a sailor. Even though that bald headed man would yell and holler, we got along good. He’d ask me to do something like sweep his floor, and I’d do it. That was how I got a lot of candy and gum. I started working over there in 9th grade, and worked there all through high school. It didn’t pay a lot of money, but it was a steady income.
That was during the war. All of things were rationed back than, like sugar. Sweets were hard to get. You had to have a ration stamp to get them for gas, groceries, and cigarettes. I had access to all the candy and gum I wanted because I had a friend whose dad ran a service station, and he owned a coal mine. He had unlimited gas stamps, and we would trade gas stamps for sugar and grocery stamps, so we never really suffered. In Arleen’s family, they had unlimited beef stamps because they worked on the farm and raised their own beef.
Because times were tough, a lot of people would go over by the train tracks and throw coal off of the coal cars, and gather it up to use at home. Most of the cooking and heating was coal stoves. Dad would never do that, but sometimes he’d take us over to gather up small pieces from off the ground to take home. Dad would let us do that, but he’d never let us get on the train to throw it off. Most of the coal was lump coal, which is the size of big boulders. A small piece of coal was about the size of a football, though it was a lot lighter than stone. People would take the pieces home and break them up with hammers for coal stove. In fact, I used to work delivering coal stove.
I worked for Leo Knight, who had a coal yard down on 5th West and 6th South. After we were married, when I first started working at Geneva, I only made 97 cents an hour and we had hard times. So I usually worked 2 or 3 jobs. For one of them, I made good extra wages by delivering the coal. That was in 1949. Gosh, I would deliver a ton of coal—load it by hand in the truck, weigh it, and deliver it. If I didn’t put enough in the truck I had to take the truck off the scale and fill it a little more and reweigh it. Mr. Knight was an honest man, and never shortchanged his customers. Then I drove the truck to someone’s home, and unloaded that coal by hand. Mr. Knight gave me a dollar per ton load. It was hard but good work. Times were hard back then, but we were happy.
Anyway, that Ed Copp was an ornery fella, and he swore like a sailor. Even though that bald headed man would yell and holler, we got along good. He’d ask me to do something like sweep his floor, and I’d do it. That was how I got a lot of candy and gum. I started working over there in 9th grade, and worked there all through high school. It didn’t pay a lot of money, but it was a steady income.
That was during the war. All of things were rationed back than, like sugar. Sweets were hard to get. You had to have a ration stamp to get them for gas, groceries, and cigarettes. I had access to all the candy and gum I wanted because I had a friend whose dad ran a service station, and he owned a coal mine. He had unlimited gas stamps, and we would trade gas stamps for sugar and grocery stamps, so we never really suffered. In Arleen’s family, they had unlimited beef stamps because they worked on the farm and raised their own beef.
Because times were tough, a lot of people would go over by the train tracks and throw coal off of the coal cars, and gather it up to use at home. Most of the cooking and heating was coal stoves. Dad would never do that, but sometimes he’d take us over to gather up small pieces from off the ground to take home. Dad would let us do that, but he’d never let us get on the train to throw it off. Most of the coal was lump coal, which is the size of big boulders. A small piece of coal was about the size of a football, though it was a lot lighter than stone. People would take the pieces home and break them up with hammers for coal stove. In fact, I used to work delivering coal stove.
I worked for Leo Knight, who had a coal yard down on 5th West and 6th South. After we were married, when I first started working at Geneva, I only made 97 cents an hour and we had hard times. So I usually worked 2 or 3 jobs. For one of them, I made good extra wages by delivering the coal. That was in 1949. Gosh, I would deliver a ton of coal—load it by hand in the truck, weigh it, and deliver it. If I didn’t put enough in the truck I had to take the truck off the scale and fill it a little more and reweigh it. Mr. Knight was an honest man, and never shortchanged his customers. Then I drove the truck to someone’s home, and unloaded that coal by hand. Mr. Knight gave me a dollar per ton load. It was hard but good work. Times were hard back then, but we were happy.
Mustard Plaster
One time when Mother and I were living in Uncle Soward’s house, I came into bed with a sore neck. “Oh, my neck hurts . . .” I whined. Arleen responded, “My mother made a polis that you put on your neck, and it helps it loosen up”. She used her mother’s recipe, and I know she put water, salt, some kind of liniment ointment, and something else. The treatment is called a mustard plaster. She made it on a towel, and put that thing on my neck. After a couple minutes, my neck started to burn, and I said, “Mother, that’s burning!”. She said, “Oh, you Tommy Told!” (Tommy Told was a boy who went to school with Arleen. He was a liar and you couldn’t believe anything he said). I protested, “No, honey, that’s burning, it really hurts!” She kept calling me a “Tommy Told”. Finally, I took it off, and then she started to look concerned. She said “Oh Honey, your neck is red—it’s really red!”.
I put the towel on the automatic washer we had. Arleen took me and put cold water on my neck, and then she put vaseline on my neck—she put everything she could think of on it to make it feel better.
The next morning we got up and Arleen went to move that towel off of the washing machine. Then I heard her saying, “Oh oh oh oh oh . . .”. She had me come in the bathroom, and I saw a circle of bare metal on the top of the washer. The plaster had eat’n all the enamel off of where the rag had sat. I said, “See! I Told you it was burning. Now call me a Tommy Told . . .”
Well, my neck never did blister, but it did bright red for two or three days. Arleen felt so awful about my neck, but oh, she was a wonderful woman. Oh how I love that woman.
I put the towel on the automatic washer we had. Arleen took me and put cold water on my neck, and then she put vaseline on my neck—she put everything she could think of on it to make it feel better.
The next morning we got up and Arleen went to move that towel off of the washing machine. Then I heard her saying, “Oh oh oh oh oh . . .”. She had me come in the bathroom, and I saw a circle of bare metal on the top of the washer. The plaster had eat’n all the enamel off of where the rag had sat. I said, “See! I Told you it was burning. Now call me a Tommy Told . . .”
Well, my neck never did blister, but it did bright red for two or three days. Arleen felt so awful about my neck, but oh, she was a wonderful woman. Oh how I love that woman.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)