Mother and Aprons

Another time, mother and Arlene were here, and they got to talk’n aprons. Boy they both loved aprons, and they both wore aprons. Mother wore an apron practically everywhere she went, except church. Dad didn’t particularly like mother to have the aprons—he had lived through the depression all his life, and was very thrifty.

Mother made aprons for the Mormon Handicraft, and they would sell them in the store in Salt Lake. They would buy the aprons from mother, and they would pay her five dollars per apron, then, they would sell them in the store for seven dollars. Dad thought that was too much of a profit that the Relief Society was making off of mother, so he kept giving her a hard time ‘til mother quit making aprons. Later, when Arleen found out, she said, “I wish I’d of known about that—I would have bought every apron she had for seven dollars, just to get the aprons and to please grandpa”.

There was one thing different about Grandma and Arleen about making the aprons. Grandma would go to a clothing or fabric store, and get the cheapest material—as I said, she and Dad went through the depressions, and Dad especially. Arleen, on the other hand, though we didn’t have a surplus of money, she knew how to handle money. She was the best thing with saving and furnishing the house on what we made. Mother would buy quality material, and that was the difference. One time we went down to the Manti Temple, and coming through Fountain Green, Mother stopped and bought material at a little fabric store. Oh, they had good fabrics. After several years we went back again, and the little store was having a going out of business sale. We passed it and Mother said “Well, let’s go back and see what they’ve got”. I turned the car around, and we went back.

As we came into the store, we saw the owner of the store with another clerk. The clerk came over and asked Arleen what she’d like, and Arleen asked, “Well, why are you going out of business?” She called over the owner to answer, and the owner said, “Who are you? Are you on your way to Provo?” Arleen said “yes”. Arleen repeated her question: “Why are you going out of business? You’ve got the best material I can find.” The owner responded, “Well, I do have the best material—here, let me show you something.” She went over, and pulled a piece of material out of a drawer, and brought it over to Mother, and then grabbed a similar piece that she had for sale. She said, “Hold this piece of material up to the window and look at. Now hold my material up and look at it.” Mother said, “Well, I don’t have to look at it—I can feel it and tell the difference. That one is from Walmart, and it is just like toilet paper.” The owner then said, “The reason I am going out of business, is that Walmart can sell that junky material cheaper than I can buy this good material. I can’t compete with them, so I am going out of business. There are several other different stores going out of business for the same reason. Walmart comes in, and takes over our businesses.”

Grandpa and Blessing the Food

One time Dad and Mom was here with us. We were all sitting at the table in the kitchen—it was long before we’d built the family room—Mother invited Mom and Dad to stay and eat supper with us and the kids. And I don’t know how many boys were here at the time. I asked mother to say the blessing on the food. So we all folded our arms for the blessing, then, out of nowhere, Dad exclaimed, “Wait a minute,” and he reached over and took the lids off the fruit and the pot of vegetables. He said, “Now if we’re gonna say the blessing, we ought to take the lids off the food, so that Heavenly Father can bless it”. And Tafta, in her innocent, clever, smart way—and she was serious—she said, “Well Grandpa, if Heavenly Father can bless the food through the roof of the house, don’t you think he can bless it through the lids of the bottles”? I really think Grandpa was perturbed that someone would question his integrity of taking the lids off the bottles so the Heavenly Father could bless the food in the bottles.

Checkers

When Grandma and grandpa lived in Salt Lake, they’d come to visit. Usually they’d stop to see Glade, and then come visit us, and then go home. Grandpa and Kerry got along real good. Kerry liked to play games with Grandpa, and often they would play checkers. Of course Grandpa, he was one that liked to win. Well, when Kerry would lose, he’d get upset, and then Grandpa would say “Well, I’ll make it fair—next time we play checkers, I’ll put one hand behind my back”. And so he’d put one hand behind his back to make it fair, but he’d still usually win. Once in a great, great while Kerry would win. But usually he’d lose, and he’d complain, and Grandpa would pipe up, “Well, this is what I’ll do: “Next time we play checkers again, I’ll close one eye, and that’ll make it even”. So he’d close one eye, and then they’d play some more.

Marlin Hall

Marlin hall was from Texas, and somebody asked one time how to tell the difference between a Texan and an Okie. He said, “Oh that’s easy. An Okie’s not as well off as a Texan, and when they move they only have 2 mattresses on the top of their car. And the Texans, they are quite wealthy—they’d have 3 mattresses on the top of their car.” So, you can tell and Okie from a Texan by how many mattresses they have on top of their car.

One of the men came in to Geneva one day, and they said “Marlin, you’ve got 10 or 11 kids, right?” Marlin said “I think I’ve got 11”. Then went on to tell Marlin about a dire problem he was having with one of his kids. Then he said “Now Marlin, just what would you do?” Marlin scratched his head for a minute and thought, and then finally said, “Well, I’ve got 11 kids, but you are going to have to find someone with more kids than me, because I don’t know …”

Truck Hijacked

One day I was just leaving the garden. It was fall, and I had a bunch of squash and vegetables in the back of the truck. I got up to the top of the gate, and I stopped to look at traffic. Out of nowhere, a Mexican grabbed the passenger door and opened it and jumped in. He put his finger up to his throat, and said “papaaa, papaaaa”. Naturally, I thought somebody had slit Papa’s throat. He didn’t have any shoes on, and it was a young man, I imagine around 30. I drove up to John Christofferson’s place, who’s a policeman in our ward. He’s usually home all the time with his police car, and guess what—he wasn’t home that day! So I went over by Vernon Law’s, where Henry Hill, another police man in the other ward lived. Well, Henry wasn’t home either. So I thought I’d go down to the Provo Police Station. As I got going down the hill, he pointed north, and says “no”, and then he grabbed the steering wheel, and I turned north onto state street. I thought “I’ll just go to the Orem Police Station. Then he pointed east on university parkway, and I turned east. I thought he was wanting to go home. As we got up the hill he grabbed the wheel again, and I pushed him to the side, and I said “NO!”

I knew where the Orem Police station was, up on Center and State street in Orem. So I drove up there. He tried again to grab the wheel, and I pushed him away. Finally we got to police station, and I honked and honked and honked, and couldn’t get anyone out. Later I found out that they had sound proofed the police station, so nobody could hear out.

About this time I noticed a fire engine coming down the street, so I pulled out, and I told him to call the police over. They said ok, and turned on their siren and took off. A minute or so later, out come some police men. The first one out was in civilian clothes. The second one was in a police uniform. As soon as he saw that police uniform, the Mexican got all excited. The police commanded “Get down out of the truck!”, and then he reached for his revolver on the side. Well I got out, and soon as I got out, the Mexican jumped over and took off in my truck. I exclaimed “That’s my truck he’s stealing!” In a dumb voice , the cop asked “is that YOUR truck?” I says “Yeah, of course it’s my truck!” Then they got concerned. The man in civilian clothes run and jumped into a car that was right there, and the policeman run inside and two more came out, and off they went to chase him.

The Mexican went through the parking lot, and he hit at least 2 cars in the lot getting out. Like I said, I had some squash and vegetables in the bed of the truck, and they were scattering all over the parking lot. Well, they chased him around Orem, and talking to John Christofferson, he said the Mexican hit at least 10 cars. They run into him right in front of University Mall. He wrecked the truck and they went and captured him.

Well, they took me down to the Police Station, and like a dummy I only reported it to Orem police. Talking to friends later, they said I should’ve got an attorney. I didn’t get anything out’a the whole thing. I had to go buy another vehicle, because they totaled mine. I had insurance, but the only thing it paid for was all the cars that he wrecked. He probably was an illegal Mexican, and got the best of it. He was put in jail where he got food and clothes and a nice warm bed, and I had to go buy a new truck.

The Twinkie Thief

While I was working at Geneva, we had a pipe fitter named Dell Fowler. He was a professional boxer—in fact, he still runs Dell’s boxing club. There was a story on him in the BYU newspaper a couple years ago. We were good friends.
While me and the other workers would go and do jobs around the plant, Dell would stay in the shop and fit pipes. With everyone gone, he started getting into the lunches, and taking out the desserts. When I would go to work, Arleen, a lot of times, would make homemade breads or cakes, and send them in my lunch. When I came back, they’d often disappeared! Now Dell really like twinkies. He wouldn’t just go through mine—he’d go through half a dozen, or whoever’s left their lunch bucket in the shop. Nobody ever knew who took the twinkies, but he was in the shop, and eventually my comrades put 2 and 2 together…

One time, after discovering his twinkie missing, one of the fellows said, “Well, I’ll fix him.” The next day he took a syringe, and filled his twinkies full of shaving cream. As soon we came in from lunch, he yelled out, “Somebody has eat’n my twinkies!”. Anybody know who ate my twinkies?” Well, everybody knew who ate his twinkies… Finally, he says “Dell, did you eat my twinkies? With an offended look on his face, Dell said, “No, I didn’t eat your twinkies…” The other man said, “Well, by gosh, I hope I find out, ‘cause I filled that twinkie full of shaving cream.’’ Then Dell piped up, “I though those twinkies smelled funny—they didn’t taste funny, but they smelled funny…” We had finally caught him red handed. But it didn’t stop him—if anybody had twinkies in their lunch, he still took ‘em.

Tafta and the Balloon

One time when Tafta was a little girl, she had a balloon. I was working at Geneva at the time. Well, when the balloon popped, Mother gathered up the pieces, and was going to throw them away. Tafta, in a cute 3 year old voice, said, “No no no no no no, don’t throw them away. Save them, and Daddy will fix them when he gets home from work. Mother saved all the pieces, and when I came home from work, Tafta came up to me with the pieces, and says, “Daddy, fix this balloon.” It just amazes me, that the faith and trust that a child has in their parent. Oh, we can never break that trust!