GROWING UP WITH WATER WOES

I have not been doing much with my blog for quite some time but I must get back at it because I have many stories to tell and many stories that need to be told. I have made a plan that I will try to get one new story each month---and more if I can.

Brigham Young asked a group of people from the Cedar City, Parowan, Paragonah areas in Southwest Utah to settle the four corners area in Southeast Utah. They left the Cedar City, Parowan, Paragonah areas in 1879. It was a harrowing ordeal. If any of you would like to know the whole story you can read Gerald Lund’s book “The Undaunted.” It comes in hard cover and paper back and I can tell you it is a “nail biter” all the way through. The book is classified as fiction because Mr. Lund adds some fictional characters but he tells the complete and true story. Those pioneers first settled in the Bluff and Montezuma Creek area but there was not enough room for the number of settlers who were there so, eventually most of them went north up to the White Mesa to settle. They named their town Grayson which was later changed to Blanding, Utah. The name change is a whole story of its own and I may get around to that at a later time.

The Blue Mountains are a few miles north of Blanding. The north side of the mountains generally gets a pretty good snowfall but the south side generally does not so there was never much runoff. (The town of Monticello was on the north side of the mountain range and they seemed to have an adequate supply of water.) In the spring there was some runoff into ditches through Blanding but not anywhere nearly enough. One of those ditches was across the street west of our Elementary School. At recess and at lunchtime we would often play “follow the leader” and we would go across the street and jump back and forth across the ditch. Some places were narrow and some were wide. We tackled both. At least the leader did so the rest of us had to follow. I do not recall anyone ever falling into the ditch so I guess we were pretty good jumpers.

We also had three small reservoirs north of town where water was stored for domestic use but the three reservoirs were not adequate for the needs of the people. No one ever wasted water. There, simply, was not enough water anyway, so to waste it would have been idiotic. The water in the ditches was for irrigation purposes. People had alfalfa fields and other crops requiring water as well as their livestock and, of course, the people.

The water in the reservoirs ran into the pipes that supplied water to the town. We didn’t have any purification facilities or filters so we got what was in the reservoirs---tadpoles, dirt, other critters, dirt, smelly things, etc. Yep folks, I’m telling you, it was always a party trying to guess what would come out of the tap next. One day a small frog came out of the tap. My mother would do her best to filter the water. She would take several layers of white cloth about six inches square and put it over the spigot. I wish I could draw you a picture of our kitchen tap. It didn’t look like the new, wonderful faucets of today. Anyway, she would gather up the corners of the square of white fabric and then gather up what was between the corners and tie it onto the tap with twine (string). That made it so the tadpoles and other little critters and the mud didn’t get into the water we used for cooking, laundry, etc. Sometimes the water was so dirty (muddy) that the first time the clean layers of cloth was tied onto the tap and the water was turned on, the clean white cloth would be brown. I’m talking “muddy” brown. Actually, those “filters” worked pretty well to keep all the dirt and other particles out of the water so we could use the water for cooking, washing dishes, cleaning, bathing, laundry etc., because that was all we had. Fortunately, we did not have to drink it. I will tell you where we got our drinking water later in this story.

In the winter we didn’t have quite so many problems with ‘critters’ in the water but my mother always had her own ‘filter’ on the tap, just in case.

I remember one summer when our water smelled horribly vile. I’m talking “putrid.” Even if you were not in the kitchen when the tap was turned on, you knew the tap had been turned on because you could smell it in the next room. I heard that when one of the reservoirs was drained, a dead horse was at the bottom. I do not know that for a certainty but I didn’t doubt it. Why else would the water smell so badly?

As you may have guessed, water was a concern for everyone in town. Finally, it was decided that a tunnel needed to be drilled through the mountain so Blanding could access some of the water from the north side of the mountain. The project was begun but the county and the towns didn’t have enough money to just do the entire project at once. It took several years to complete the tunnel. The project started from both sides. I believe Monticello people worked from the north end and I know Blanding people worked from the south end. My dad worked in the tunnel several summers. (As I recall, in one of my blogs I told you that one time my dad took me with him when he went to work at the tunnel. I stayed with him for several days. I had to stay at the camp alone while he went to work but I was okay. If I find I have not told you that story, I will do so at a later time.)

Finally, the tunnel was completed. I do not remember the year but I was still living at home so it must have happened in the mid 1940’s. I often think of the amazing engineers who plotted the tunnel through the mountain. When the workers broke through, the tunnel was completely open except for one inch. Although water is rarely ever in abundance in Utah (Utah being the second driest state in the U.S.) at least we had more water and it was good water. Bigger storage reservoirs were dug and things changed.
We generally had enough water to keep the garden watered. Even so, we still carried our bath water, the rinse water from the laundry, etc., out to water plants. My mother still “filtered” the water coming from the tap but it took longer to get dirty.

Now, I will tell you about the water we drank in the summertime when I was young. There was a spring at the edge of West Water Canyon. The water ran all the time and it was good, cool water. (It may have frozen over in the winter. I was never there in the winter because the tap water was okay during the winter.) The spring was probably about half mile from our home. We would take gallon jugs and our canvas water bags and fill them about three times each week. I don’t know how many of you are acquainted with canvas water bags but they are wonderful. We would get them really wet and then fill them with water. When we got home, we’d hang them outside in a mostly shady area and the breeze kept the water in those bags amazingly cool. The water was pure, clean and delicious. Occasionally, none of the family members who were older than my brother, George, and I, were available to go to West Water so George and I would pull his little, red wagon and go get water. We almost always accompanied whoever went to West Water and we had learned what to do, so it was no big deal when just the two of us went. Besides, it was always a lot of fun to go. With the combination of the ice in Daddy’s icehouse and the cool, West Water water, we did not suffer for lack of something to drink. And, it tasted SO GOOD! I assume the entire town depended on the West Water spring for their drinking water.

In spite of all the water problems we all survived and thrived. I never heard of anyone getting sick from the foul water we all had to endure. I can tell you, the people in Blanding surely knew how to conserve water and did conserve water. People had lawns, flowers, shrubs, trees and gardens. It was a wonderful place in which to live and grow.

We all really appreciated the tunnel and in spite of having extra, good water, I don’t believe I ever saw anyone watering the street, or letting the water run for hours, or wasting water in any way.

Our garden had to have water and the orchard had to be watered. My dad would dig a ditch around each tree in the orchard then he would let the water run slowly into the ditch. When the ditch was full of water (because it had run in slowly) the ground was soaked deeply and thoroughly. Then my dad would move the hose to another tree and fill in the ditch around the first tree so the wetness would not evaporate quickly. Sometimes it was hard for him to be there all the time because of his jobs so we all tried to help out. Our orchard always produced enough apples so mom could bottle apple sauce and he'd fill his fruit cellar with apples and pears. We had enough apples to share with the Navajos who came begging from time to time, and to give to friends throughout the winter and for our own needs. It was nice to be able to bite into a nice crisp apple in the middle of the winter and not have to buy it at the store. (I don't remember the stores in Blanding having apples for sale.) Daddy would dig a new ditch in the gardens, water them slowly and deeply and then cover up the ditches to conserve the wetness. That meant he had to dig ditches every time we watered. What a job. I think my dad was the hardest working man I've ever known.

GRANDMA ERICKSON

Dear Katrina,

I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to this—and I promised to have it to you the next day. Anyway, here it is.

I met Grandma Erickson early in September of 1951. Jack went into the Marine Corps and I was still living with my sister Grace and her husband and kids but I spent quite a bit of time at Grandpa and Grandma Ehlers home. I met Jack on Monday, August 13, 195l and had only two official dates with him before he left to go to Boot Camp which lasted nine weeks. Jack did take me to Blanding so he could meet my parents in addition to the two dates we had. We knew before he left that we would be married and we planned to do that on his boot leave early in November. (Actually, we both knew we would get married before we met but that’s another story.) He told his parents that we would be getting married and his entire family, including his grandparents, aunts and uncles embraced me immediately and welcomed me into the family. As a result of that, I spent quite a bit of time at Jack’s parents’ home. Your Grandmother Black (whom I will refer to as Elaine in the rest of this story just for brevity) welcomed me into her circle of friends and had me come out to their house on week-ends as well as one or two nights a week.

It was during this time that I met the Ericksons. Grandma and Grandpa Erickson came out to the Ehlers’ home frequently to help in that big yard and to help with the harvesting of the crops the Ehlers’ grew. In those days they had a lot of fruit trees (mainly peach trees) and a wonderful garden with all kinds of vegetables. Grandma Erickson and Grandma Ehlers would bottle peaches, pears, tomatoes, jams and jellies. It was faster and more fun to work together than to work separately at their homes. (I always called Arnold and Thelma Ehlers mom and dad because they welcomed me so quickly and lovingly and I felt very close to them but, here, I will refer to both of them as Grandma and Grandpa Ehlers.) Sometimes Grandpa Ehlers would pick up Grandma Erickson and bring her out to their place but sometimes she walked to the bus stop and rode the bus to the Ehlers’.

Sometimes, Grandma Erickson was at the Ehlers’ home when I was there and that’s how I got to know her. When she learned Jack and I were going to get married she began making us a quilt—quilted, not tied. She was always very loving and kind. When Jack came home from boot camp we got married. Grandma Ehlers (working with Grandma Erickson) had an open house for us on Sunday afternoon and invited the relatives. Then they gave us an open house Sunday evening and invited friends. We were married on Monday, November 5, 1951 in the Salt Lake Temple. We traveled to Blanding where my parents gave us a reception on Wednesday evening. Thursday we traveled back to Salt Lake City, packed all our belongings into our car and left to go to Santa Ana, California, on Friday afternoon because Jack was due back at the “El Toro” Marine Base on Monday morning, November 12^th. We arrived in Santa Ana on Sunday

afternoon. We were not able to find an apartment in Santa Ana so we just started driving

looking for “For Rent” signs. We finally found one right on the beach in Newport Beach and it was only about 10 miles from the Base. He was on base during the day time and was able to come home at night and he had week-ends off. We paid $50.00 per month rent. Not a bad place to begin our married life.

We were in Newport Beach about five weeks when Jack got orders to go to Korea. So we packed everything and took the long way back to Salt Lake by dropping down through Arizona and into Blanding to see my parents and then we spent Christmas with the Ehlers. Christmas Eve festivities were held at Grandma Erickson’s home and it was absolutely incredible. I had never known a Christmas Eve like that. I guess Grandma Erickson and Grandma Ehlers had been cooking and baking for several days. I ate food I had never eaten before. There was fun and comraderie that was very new to me. Grandma Erickson was so happy Jack and I could be home for Christmas and she fussed over us and treated us like celebrities. Of course, she treated everyone that way. Christmas 1951 was the first time I tasted Snow Pudding. Grandma Erickson had made it for the Christmas Eve get-together. I thought it was odd but it was not unpleasant. Everyone else at the party loved Snow Pudding so I figured if I was to be one of them I’d better learn to like it. It didn’t take long to learn to love it.

A couple of weeks later Jack was on his way to Korea and I was living with the Ehlers family. I had assumed I would get an apartment until Jack came back but Grandma and Grandpa Ehlers insisted I stay with them. It was the best thing I could ever have done. I was able to learn more about cooking, sewing and other things from the “Pro”, Grandma Ehlers. I also found a job at the Church Welfare Offices. I was secretary for two men, Bishop Irvin B. Nydegger and Brother ElRay L. Christiansen who was an assistant to the twelve apostles. (They didn’t have the huge Quorum of Seventies in place then as they do now. As I recall, there were six Assistants to the Apostles.) They were wonderful bosses.

While living with the Ehlers, I was better able to get to know Grandma and Grandpa Erickson simply because I had opportunity to see them more. From the first time I met them I could feel the love. They were so kind and warm. I learned that Grandma Minnie took care of all kinds of neighbors. When I say, “took care of”, I mean that she liked to keep track of the older ladies in the Ward and neighborhood. If any one of them was the least bit under the weather she would make a pot of soup or bread or something else and take it to whoever needed it. Then she would say: “The poor thing isn’t feeling well. She has such a hard time.” The chances were “the poor thing” was 10 to 15 years younger than Grandma Minnie but that was just the kind of person she was. She looked after her neighbors.

Jack came home after six months in Korea and was being sent for special training at Quantico, Virginia. We packed everything we owned into the back seat and trunk of our 1947 Dodge and headed east. Both Grandma’s were sad to see us go but it was another grand adventure for me.

I could tell you many stories about our life back east but I’ll put those stories in another part of my blog. This story is about Grandma Erickson.

Jack was discharged from the Marine Corps in August of 1953. We came home and lived in the “coop” for a little over a year. During that year Jack attended the U of U studying Architecture. He attended the University for three quarters of school (fall, winter and spring-they weren’t doing semesters in those days). He took the following summer off and during that summer of 1954 he decided he wanted a new car. He set his heart on a new Buick Roadmaster. It was the top of the line Buick. He ordered it and got the date it would be available at the factory in Flint, Michigan. He decided we would go to Flint to pick it up. (In those days it was cheaper to buy bus tickets to the factory and drive the car home than to pay the shipping so that’s what we did. It was also another new adventure for me.) When we arrived home he wanted his mom and dad to see it and then he wanted Grandma Erickson to see it so we drove down to her home on Douglas Street. Jack was very excited for Grandma Minnie to see the new car. Grandma was not as excited as he had hoped she would be. She just said, “Jack, what did you do? Did you rob a bank?” I laugh every time I think of it. It was so typically Grandma. Actually, she had a delightful sense of humor.

Now, I will regress a little. The U of U had a “young” Architecture Department and they were still in the process of figuring out the actual schedule for that Department. Jack had taken a couple of classes that were required at the time and then the Dept. heads decided that wasn’t the direction they wanted to go and they dropped the classes and also dropped the credits, so it turned out to be a waste of time for those who had taken the classes. Jack decided he wanted to go to an established School of Architecture where the schedules were set and later come back when the schedule at the U of U was solid. He did some research and applied to the University of Washington in Seattle. He was accepted. We couldn’t make it there in time for fall quarter. We left SLC in November so we’d be settled by the beginning of winter quarter. (We later met two other guys who had transferred from U of U to U of W for the same reason we transferred.)

We came back to SLC each summer in l955 and l956 for a couple weeks vacation. We visited with Grandma and Grandpa Erickson both years. They were wonderful and looked forward to when we’d be home permanently. Each time we came home Grandma Erickson would look at me and hold her arms as though she were holding a baby and swing them back and forth with a question on her face. I would shake my head and she would shake her head in sadness for us. The evening of December 20, 1956 we received a phone call from Grandpa Ehlers informing us Grandma Erickson had passed away that day. After Jack hung up the phone he said, “Now, we’ll have a baby.” I heard him very clearly but I said, “What did you say?” He looked at me, shook his head and said, “I don’t know why I said that.” It really impressed me, however, and I thought I would be pregnant in January. January came and went and I was not pregnant. Then my thought was: I will be pregnant in February. February came and went and I was not pregnant. Toward the end of February Jack withdrew from the U of W and we moved back to Salt Lake. We had really loved Seattle and toyed with the idea of staying there but suddenly it seemed important to move back to Utah and live here. Jack had done some checking on the curriculum at the U of U and it had stabilized so we deemed it safe to return.

Jack and I had been seeing some specialists as to why I wasn’t getting pregnant. We had both been prodded and poked and I had some procedures done. Obviously they didn’t have as much knowledge in 1955 and 1956 as they do now but those particular specialists had a high rate of success with their patients. We were hopeful. When we went to our last appointment we told them we were moving to Utah. They told us: “We don’t think you will ever have any children. We don’t know why but our suggestion is: When you get to Utah you should apply for adoption.”

That made us very sad but we departed to Utah. We bought Grandma and Grandpa Erickson’s home on Douglas Street and settled in. Immediately after we moved to their home I called the LDS adoption services and made an appointment to see them and to fill out adoption papers. The appointment was the last week of April in l957. By the time we went to that appointment I had begun to suspect I was pregnant. At our interview we did not mention the possibility that I might be pregnant, just in case. A few weeks later we were able to have the pregnancy confirmed. (About three months later we let the people at the adoption agency know we were pregnant.)

Bret was due December 6, 1957. He didn’t come. He was born two weeks late on December 21, 1957—one year and one day after Grandma Erickson passed away. Jack summed it up this way: “It took Grandma a couple of months to find her way around in Heaven and then she began to shake things up.” She was a sweet, loving, kind, generous and feisty woman. We always have felt that Grandma Erickson had a hand in our ability to have children. Bret: December 21, 1957; Jackie: December 22, 1958; I had a miscarriage in 1960; Patti: May 27, 1961; Shanna: August 12, 1962; two miscarriages;

Tal: July 25, 1967. Grandma was very persuasive.

Katrina, I hope this gives you a little more information about Grandma Erickson. I loved that woman with all my heart.

NEPHI RODEO - 2012

Nephi Rodeo, 2012

I went to the Ute Stampede Rodeo on Friday 13, 2012.  It turned out to be quite a memorable Friday the 13^th.  Bret and Heidi weren’t there this year so I only went for one day.  Heidi’s mom and dad were there for the Friday program as well as her brother, Rick and his wife and kids, and they had brought Aspen with them.  After all, it would be a crime for Aspen to miss the Nephi Rodeo.  She has been there every year since she was born---and I mean every year.  She was born March 6, 2000 and she was at the Rodeo in July of the same year.  Also, I brought Aspen home with me on Saturday and she stayed with me until Monday.  On Monday I took her to Richfield and Bret and Heidi met us there to take her home with them.  We all visited Jack and he liked seeing us.

But now, back to Friday the 13^th!  We all stayed at the Economy Lodge (not to be confused with Choice Hotels “Econo-Lodge").  I’ve stayed there before and it has been okay but this year was a little different.  I went inside to check in and no one was at the front desk.  There was a note that said:  “Press 0 for help.”  I pressed 0 and got a busy signal so I hung up and tried again—another busy signal.  I hung the phone up again and waited a few seconds and tried again—same story.  I waited a couple of minutes before trying again and a guy answered and said he’d be right out.  Five minutes later he appeared.  When I made my reservation I asked for a ‘handicapped’ room and was told I could have one but the front desk guy said they didn’t have any available handicapped rooms but, he said, Room #6 (right around the corner) was a pretty good room.  I figured I had no choice and said okay.  I was given a key.  I went to my van and got my stuff, brought it into the lobby and parked my car.  Fortunately, there was a handicapped parking spot.

I went back into the hotel and was a little nervous about having to find the right street to drive down to the Rodeo Grounds.  Usually, someone else drives me from the hotel to the Rodeo and I don’t pay much attention to how I get there.  So, I asked the guy at the desk if he had a map of Nephi and could he show me where the Rodeo Grounds are.  He said:  “I’ve only been here three weeks---I’m from Los Angeles.  I don’t know where they are.”

I don’t know about all of you but generally the person at the front desk knows where everything is, and if he/she doesn’t know, he/she does everything he/she can do to get that information.  He made no effort—when he said he’d only been there three weeks, apparently, the subject was closed.

I got my stuff gathered up and went to room 6.  When I walked in the room it looked okay so I proceeded to get my stuff organized.  I looked around for something to put my suitcase on so I wouldn’t have to stoop down every time I wanted something.  I went to the closet to see whether they had one of those little suitcase holders. Much to my surprise, the closet was packed full of mens' clothes.  I looked at the floor and there was a huge pair of running shoes.   They looked almost big enough to belong to Shaqueil(sp) O’Neal although I was pretty sure they weren’t his.  (And there was no suitcase stand.)

I called the front desk.  The guy said he’d send someone to “check.”  Finally a girl came and determined I was telling the truth.   I decided to look in some of the drawers and lo and behold!  They were all packed full of stuff.  There was a backpack in one of the drawers so she got it out and began stuffing the clothes into the backpack.  After she got everything packed she left.  I looked around and wondered if the room had even been cleaned—although the bed was made so I turned the covers down and the sheets looked and smelled fresh.  The bathroom seemed clean and I reckoned as how it was okay to stay there.

I was hanging up my clothes and a knock came at the door.  It was the guy from the front desk.  He said, “We’ve made a mistake.  The person who was in this room has not checked out so would you mind changing rooms?  We found that we DO have a handicapped room and if you would like it you can have it.”   They also told me that the handicapped room was room #7---right across the hall.  I took a look at the room and it looked okay so I said yes.

 

At that point I wondered why there were no handicapped rooms available when I checked in but suddenly, 20 minutes later, there was a handicapped room. 

795 S. Main St, Nephi, UT

A few minutes after I moved to the handicapped room the girl who had packed up the stuff in room 6 (and then unpacked it) knocked at my door.  She was checking to be sure everything was okay in my “new” room.  I asked her which road to take to the Rodeo Grounds.  She said, “I don’t know.  I don’t think we have any place like that.”  I asked her how long she had lived in Nephi.  She told me she’d been there about a year.   At that point I wondered how a person could live in Nephi for a year and not know they have a Rodeo.

As luck would have it, Rick had me ride with him and his two kids to the rodeo grounds.  He was happy to have my handicapped tag.  His wife, Enis(sp) rode with Walter and Sylvia and they had their own handicapped tag.  It all turned out very well and we had a great time.  It just dawned on me---I still don’t remember which road to take to the Rodeo Grounds.  However, if I ever really do have to find my own way---I’ll bet I can.

I had my camera with me but I didn’t even think about taking a picture of the closet and the packed-full drawers until it was too late.  However, I would have had to wait until I was with Juli so she could put the pictures on my blog because I surely do not know how.  If I ever get moved toVernal maybe she can teach me.  Love you, Juli.

Fruit Cellars and Potato Pits

My Dad always started early in the year to ensure his family would have enough food during the coming winter.  In February he pruned his fruit trees.  He had a lot of apple trees, some pears, peaches, prunes, apricots.  Spraying would come later.  We had grape vines, black currants, rhubarb, multiplier onions, Jerusalem artichokes, curly leaf parsley (which we began to eat with our bread and milk as soon as it was big enough to pick), and strawberries that came back every spring.  In early March, as soon as the ground began to thaw, he plowed several plots of ground so he could plant an enormous garden.

Of course, in those days, we wouldn’t go to the store and buy fresh vegetables year around so he was anxious to get seeds into the ground so we could have fresh food as early as possible.  He always planted peas in March and as soon after the peas as he deemed it wise to do so, he planted onion, radish, lettuce, carrot and other seeds.

Amaranth (Pig Weed)

It has a red root.

My Dad’s favorite supper was bread and milk so that was what we ate most of the time but it was a little monotonous so we added other things to have variety.  We all liked to eat onions with our bread and milk.  Obviously, if we were going to eat onions all winter and also be able to cook with onions, he had to plant a fairly sizable amount of onions.  But we were always eager for spring and new green things that grew early.  I remember my dad bringing in “pig weeds” for mom to cook.  We’d put a little salt, pepper, butter and a touch of vinegar on our pig weeds and they were delicious.  I wish now that I had paid more attention to what pig weeds looked like and where to find them.  Sadly, I wouldn’t be able to identify them now.  But, it was always something we looked forward to then because we were hungry for fresh, green food.

Also, he would bring in water cress from the ditch bank.  Water cress is an early spring vegetable.  Oh my, how we loved to get fresh water cress to eat with our bread and milk.  Now, of course, we can buy watercress in the larger grocery stores all year. (I do love watercress in salads and on sandwiches.)  Daddy would also look for new, tender dandelion greens.  We loved those as much as the pig weeds.  We seasoned them just like we seasoned the pig weeds and thought it was food fit for kings.

Of course, it doesn’t take radishes long to grow to an edible size.  He planted both red and white radishes and green onions and we loved all of them.  The lettuce also got to an edible size very quickly.  The peas began to bear in May.  Oh, how I loved to go out in the pea patch, sit on the ground and shell out those wonderful little green balls that tasted so sweet, fresh off the vine.  In the meantime, Daddy had planted potatoes, squash, cabbage, celery, turnips, parsnips, beets, Swiss chard, tomatoes, green beans, summer squash (both white and yellow).  I don’t remember any zucchini.  Perhaps zucchini was not available in those days.  We had lots of cucumbers (for eating with our bread and milk, as well as with other meals) and he grew dill for pickles.

We always had chickens, lambs, pigs, rabbits and cows.  We could always count on having milk, cream, butter, cottage cheese, etc.  Our cow(s) would have a calf every spring.  When it was a bull calf, we butchered it in the fall.  We butchered a pig and a lamb, as well.

As you may have guessed, the garden, orchard and meat items had to be taken care of to see us through the winter, so the next priority was to have a way to store/preserve them.

Daddy was always up early and in the summer, as soon as it was light he was out in the garden checking the ripeness of the vegetables.  If there were peas or string beans to be picked, he would call the kids out to help pick and then we would bring chairs out of the house, put them in the shade on the west side of the house, and we would shell peas or snap the stem ends and pull the strings off the green beans to get them ready to be put into bottles that would then go into the pressure canner for winter use.

When the corn was ready, Daddy always picked it.  I don’t think he trusted his kids’ ability to determine whether or not it was the special ripeness for canning.  But after he had picked the corn, we all gathered on the west side of the shade to husk the corn.  Of course, all of the kids pitched in, with whatever ability level they had, and helped mom with the canning.  Believe me, it was always a group activity.  Of course, the fruit ripened and it also had to be preserved.

I should add here that we always ate whatever amount we wanted of the fresh veggies and fruit in addition to what went into bottles.

Daddy built cellars or “pits” to preserve the vegetables and fruit that we didn’t bottle.  He always built separate cellars for fruit and vegetables.  He would dig a hole in the ground, probably about three feet deep, maybe four feet wide and eight or ten feet long, then build a wood frame to keep it from collapsing—also to hold the “roof” of the cellar.  He put dividers in to keep the veggies separate, i.e., potatoes in one, onions in another, squash in another and so on.  The roof over the pit had a little slope but not a lot, because he put dirt on top of the boards for insulation.  He made a “door” as part of the roof so we could pull it open to enter the pit.  (Remember, there has to be room to move around in the pit after you put the vegetables inside.)  He put plenty of straw on the floor for insulation and after the veggies were in place, another thick layer of straw on top.  He also had burlap bags that he would lay on top to protect everything from freezing.  If my folks had an old blanket that was totally beyond use, he would use that, as well.  Then he had to build another for the fruit---apples and pears.  He never mixed the apples.  Each variety had its own space.  The “pits” lasted several years but eventually the boards would start to rot and he would have to start over.

Daddy had dreams of building a rock cellar with stairs going down into it.  He acquired to rock and dug the hole but he had to spend so much time growing food for his family and trying to get jobs to earn money to buy shoes and coats for his kids that he never did get the cellar built.  There is a marvelous cellar by the house where Mary James lives here in Loa.  When I see that cellar I think of my dad and how he would have loved to have one like that.  When I learn how to use my phone to take pictures I will take a picture of the cellar and then you can see what a really cool cellar looks like.  If I could draw, I’d draw a picture of it.  Also, I would draw a picture of the “pits” so you could see what they looked like but inasmuch as I don’t have that talent, I hope my description in words paints the picture.

I was the youngest of seven children and I was 14 when my parents got their first refrigerator.  You may ask, “How did you keep milk without a refrigerator?”  That is a good question.  Of course, the winter isn’t a problem but it is possible to have cool milk to drink even in the summer.  The window sills in home built back in the l920’s and 1930’s were wider than window sills in homes now.  We had a window on the north side of the house.  In the summer, my mother would open the north window a few inches and put cool water in a pan that was round and maybe three or four inches deep.  Then she would put a pitcher with a cover, full of milk, into the pan with the water.  We always had flour sacks, and she would get the sack dripping wet in cool water and wrap the pitcher all the way to the top with the wet sack.  The water would “wick” up the sack, the north breeze would keep the sack cool and the cool, wet sack kept the milk cool.  We always checked the water level and couple of times a day to be sure the milk would be cool.  The window was large enough that we could have two pitchers cooling at one time.  I should probably mention that they were large pitchers.  The milk was not ice cold but plenty cool and delicious. 

We had all the meat we wanted.  As mentioned above we had a variety of animals.  We didn’t have any way to freeze the meat so my mother bottled a lot of it in the pressure cooker.  She bottled, beef, port, lamb, chicken and rabbit.  Oh, my goodness!  It was so-o good.  It was good on sandwiches or to eat with potatoes and gravy, in soups or whatever.

And, when Daddy killed a pig, he would cut out the portions for ham and bacon.  Daddy always cured our bacon and ham.  It was quite a process.  He made a rub with brown sugar, salt, pepper and I don’t know what else and he would rub and rub and rub that into the meat.  Then he would wrap the meat in clean flour sacks and hang them on the north side of the house, up high, under the eaves where “the sun don’t shine.”  After a couple of weeks he’d get the meat down and go through the same process of rubbing and rubbing the mixture into the meat.  He also had a large “needle” looking thing that he could put some liquid “rub” inside the meat.  He would, again, hang the meat up under the eaves.  A couple of weeks later he would do it again.  I don’t remember how many times he did that but it was several times.  Oh my goodness, that was such good bacon and ham.

All things considered, I pretty good life when I was growing up.  Yes, we had to work hard, including the kids, but it was very satisfying and the rewards were great.  For instance, we had an ice house.  In the winter when the reservoir was frozen my dad would go to the reservoir and cut blocks of ice.  As I recall, the ice was about eight inches thick.  He would cut squares about two feet by two feet square and load it onto the “bob sled”.  I believe the horses belonged to several people so they would take turns using the horses.  He would load up the bob sled and the horses would pull the sled home.  Daddy would have a lot of sawdust on the floor—probably about 24 inches.  Then he would place the squares of ice on the sawdust, leaving a space around the edges and between the blocks of ice.  When he had a layer of ice he would pour a layer of sawdust all over and around the ice.  He would do this over and over again until the ice and sawdust were about four feet from the top of the icehouse.  Obviously, he had to make a number of trips to the reservoir and cut multiple blocks of ice.  It was hard and cold work but he was willing to do that for the rewards.  Often, the ice would last until mid or late August.  We could have cold water for drinking, freeze ice cream (YUMMY), mold jello and keep the homemade root beer cold for drinking.

It was a good life.  I wish I had tried harder to learn about some of the things we had available to us in order to be better prepared in case of emergency.  Although, I have no doubt that if it were necessary, I would learn very quickly how to cope.  Hope this helps a little.  Love you.

Valentine's Day

ANOTHER SPENCER-ISM

I had to share the latest Spencer-ism with you. That kid just absolutely cracks me up. Today I was staying with Spencer while Eric was at school. We were talking and he was asking questions. All at once he became very serious and said: "Grandma, when I'm as old as you I'll be a hundred billion." Don't you love it?

LIVING AND LEARNING WITH NEW ADVENTURES

My life is just one adventure after another. Everything turned/is turning out well. I am happy, healthy and after a couple of good night's sleep I am able to perform the tasks that need to be done. But, I'm getting ahead of myself so let me start at the beginning.

It all began a couple of weeks ago. Patti called me and, with Danielle's game schedule in front of her, she relayed the information that Danielle would be playing a home game (soccer) against a BIG rival (the other High School in Cedar) on Thursday, September 17th, and the new Shakespeare Festival season would be beginning on Friday, September 18th, and would I like (be able) to come over for the game and the play. Everything fit into my schedule and I gave her a big YES!

Inasmuch as the amount of knowledge I have regarding the inner workings of an automobile would fit on the head of a very small pin, I decided I'd take my van over to the local shop and have them check the tire pressure; determine whether my tires were safe to travel to Cedar and back; change the oil and filter, etc. The people at that shop have taken very good care of me since my arrival in Loa. When I call them for anything, they always offer to come pick up my vehicle, take care of "whatever" and bring the vehicle back when the work is done. Believe me, that kindness/courtesy has been much appreciated. They recognize my voice on the phone---they just take care of me. They picked up my van Wednesday morning, took care of it and brought it back to me Wednesday afternoon.

I packed my suitcase Wednesday evening so I'd be ready to leave at a decent time Thursday morning. I had hoped to leave about 10:00 a.m. but a couple of things came up and I didn't get away until almost 11:30. Initially, I had planned to wash my van in Richfield so it would be pretty, but inasmuch as I was so late and I couldn't remember how many miles I had to drive or how long it would take me, I decided not to wash the van and wait to wash it in Cedar. I certainly didn't want to be late for Danielle's game. I did, however, fill the gas tank in Richfield and immediately drove to the freeway (I-70) and I was on my way. The speed limit on I-70 is 75. I don't do 75 but I did set my cruise between 65 and 70. I-70, between Richfield and I-15,
is a beautiful drive and I was thoroughly enjoying the scenery. I saw a sign that said: I-15 5 mi. I was satisfied at what good time I was making. A couple of miles later as I was nearing what I thought was the last hill before I-15, I passed a truck with its blinkers on. After I passed the truck I checked my rear-view mirror before I moved back into the outside lane. I thought I saw smoke. It alarmed me just a little but then I thought, "I've just passed a truck. That's probably where the smoke is coming from." (Can you imagine that, in my mind, I ended two sentences with prepositions?) I breezed over the top of the hill and as I checked my rear-view mirror I thought I could still see smoke. At first I thought it was my imagination. My next thought was, "There is probably another truck in front of me." Then I looked at my dash! The red light that indicates the little oil can with a drop of oil was glowing. I do know enough about cars to realize that I really didn't want to see that red light on the dash. I touched my brakes to turn off the cruise and began to slow down. I was on the downhill side of the hill leading to I-15.

I decided to let the van coast out of the canyon if it would because I was afraid I wouldn't have cell service in the canyon and I knew I needed help. There were a couple of bridges that, of course, didn't have a wide enough place for me to stop and then I saw the off-ramp that turns north on I-15 toward Salt Lake City. I coasted past that off-ramp and pulled into the emergency lane. As I came to a full stop I realized the motor was not running so I turned off the key. Almost as soon as I turned off the key I realized I was not as far over on the emergency lane as I had, at first, thought. I turned on the key to move about 10 feet further where there was more room in the lane but the vehicle was dead where it stood. To say the least, I was a tad worried. I have to tell you that in the next two hours (or however long it actually was) every vehicle (and the traffic was quite heavy) coming down that highway moved over into the far lane and did not even come at all close to me. I got out of the van and raised the hood in case a Highway Patrol Trooper happened by so he/she could see I needed help.

The first thing I did was try to call AAA for a tow. Alas, I guess I've only had my cell phone three or four months. Juli got it for me and she and Kadi programmed it with the numbers I thought I'd call. Guess what? I didn't know how to put a new number into it and I couldn't figure it out. I suspect my brain was not working to full capacity at that moment so I called Patti. Her number was in the phone. Patti dropped everything, got on another phone (keeping me on line for information) and called AAA. They told her they would send a tow truck and tow me to Fillmore. I didn't want to go north to Fillmore because, duh, I was headed south to Cedar. We were told only the first five miles were free and unless I went to an AAA approved shop it would cost $4.00 per mile. The shop they were pushing at that time was in Fillmore. We were told it was the only shop in the area that was AAA approved. Patti and I discussed the situation and tossed around two or three options. Patti called Dave for some input. AAA called me and told me a tow truck was on the way and it was coming out of Beaver Valley towing and it would be there shortly. A few minutes later the tow truck driver called me and said he was 30 to 35 minutes away. I called Patti back. She had talked to Dave. He had learned that the Dodge dealership in Richfield is the only Dodge dealership in southern Utah. By then, inasmuch as I would not be able to get to Danielle's game on time (and seeing Danielle play her game was the big draw in going to Cedar---everything else was a bonus) we all decided that I should go to the Dodge dealership in Richfield.

AAA had told me they had called the Highway Patrol to alert them. Highway Patrol Dispatch called to tell me they had a trooper in the area and he would come and stay with me until the tow truck arrived. (I don't know whether Patti had told them I'm old.) I waited for quite a while and finally a trooper stopped at the side of my van and asked if I was okay and did I have any water? I said, "Yes, I'm okay and yes, I do have water." He said, "Okay, I'll be back to check on you a couple of times until the tow truck gets here." So much for staying with me until help arrived! I never saw the Trooper again.

I called Juli to tell her what was going on and she said, "I'll come pick you up in Richfield." We decided I'd call her when the tow truck arrived and we'd probably get to Richfield about the same time but after the tow truck arrived I thought I should get to Richfield and then call her to come because I needed to see how serious the damage was and I didn't want her to have to wait a long time.

The thing that is so incredible to me is this: Both Patti and Juli were willing to drop whatever they were doing and do whatever was needed to rescue me. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it and I think of it many times each day. I am so blessed to have a loving family on whom I can rely.

It was hot sitting in the sun, however I was happy it was cooler than it had been a few days earlier. I had my windows open and, of course, the flies swarmed in. The flies were quite annoying.

Before the tow truck arrived I glanced through the front window and could see a car stopped in front of me. Two old guys were getting out. I must admit I was just a little nervous. Now is the time to tell you why I was not a whole lot nervous. When I travel alone I carry a gun---and I know how to use it. One guy stopped to take a look at the car, the other came to the window and said, "My name is Richard Beaumont. We are from LaVerkin. Are you okay? Can we help? Do you know what is wrong?" I told him about the little oil can light on the dash; about having the oil changed yesterday; about the tow truck that would be here in about 10 minutes. By then, I could tell they were completely harmless and really did stop to try to help. One of them kneeled down and got under the van to take a look. Frankly, he was old enough that I wondered whether he'd be able to get back up on his feet after crawling part-way under the van. I marveled that he was able to get back on his feet. I don't think I could have gotten down in the first place and I know for sure I couldn't have gotten back up without help. He told me there was a big puddle of oil under my van and that there didn't seem to be a plug in the pan. Guess that's why my van stopped. Cars don't seem to work right if they don't have oil! The three of us visited a few minutes. They asked where I'm from and when I said, "Loa," they got really excited. They told me they come up to Boulder Mountain several times each summer for camping and fishing because it is so much cooler on Boulder Mountain than in LaVerkin. I enjoyed their company until the tow truck arrived.

The two old guys told the driver what they had seen under the van. The driver, who is a certified mechanic, took a look and verified what they said. The two guys told me good-bye and good-luck, then got into their vehicle and drove on. They had to move, of course, in order for the tow truck to pull in front of me. After he pulled in front of me he asked me to come and he'd help me into the tow truck and then he'd load up the van. I guess this is the appropriate time to tell you that the minute I looked at him, I knew I was in love again! He was extremely good looking with a marvelous smile. I learned later that he also has a great sense of humor. He and I talked and laughed all the way to Richfield. I hope he remembers me as fondly as I remember him.

I took my purse, water and cane to the truck and then was faced with the daunting task of actually getting into the truck. Holy cow! Those trucks are high; the steps are high and far apart and I'm not much of a climber anymore. There's always a bright side to these things. He had to help me a lot! What fun! Yeh, I was finally up in the truck. He pulled my van up onto the back of the truck and we were off to Richfield.

After we pulled up to the Dodge dealership a man came out to see what was up. Rick, my driver, told him and also told him I'd had the oil changed the day before. The Dodge guy said, "That's who you need to talk to, first." I didn't remember the number so Mr. Dodge guy went in to a phone book, got the number and brought it out to the tow truck. Rick called the shop here in Loa. Gary answered the phone. He is the man I usually deal with at the Loa shop so I know him best and I was glad he answered the phone. Rick told him he had me and my van at the Dodge dealership in Richfield and told Gary what he had seen under the van. Gary said, "Take her to Wal-Mart. Leave the van in the parking lot. If she has any shopping to do she can do that while I drive down to get her." The first thing I did was call Juli to tell her not to come to get me because I'd be coming with Gary in his tow truck. Rick and I drove to Wal-Mart. He unloaded the van. I paid him for the tow; he helped me down out of the truck---no small task (no pun intended). Personally, I don't think it was as good for him as it was for me. Then we said good-bye.

I had a short list at Wal-Mart but I had to wait for an electric cart. By then, even with a short list, I was too tired to try to walk through the store. After about 20 minutes a cart became available so I did my shopping. Just as I picked up the last item I looked up and saw Gary coming down the aisle. I waved and said, "Gee, I'm sorry we have to meet like this." He smiled and said, "I think I'm a lot sorrier than you are." I felt very badly for him because I consider him to be my friend and he has always taken such good care of me. I gave him the key to my van. He went out and loaded up my van while I checked out. Of course, I had the daunting task of trying to climb up in another high truck and I have to tell you---the steps were even further apart on the Loa truck than they were on the Beaver truck. Gary had to do some boosting to get me in. I'm sure I enjoyed it more than he did. We talked and told stories the whole way home and it was very enjoyable for me. We know each other better now. I like him a lot. He drove me home, got me down out of the truck and into the house. Then he went out and got my suitcase and everything out of the van and brought it into the house. Again, he apologized for what had happened. He said his 18-year old son changed the oil and afterward, the son told his dad that he checked everything twice because he knew I'd be driving alone and he didn't want anything to go wrong.

As for me, I was well taken care of. I wish everything had been good because I know this is causing my friends grief and they thought they had taken every precaution to be sure I was safe. I don't know exactly what happened. Perhaps we'll never know. Sometimes things just happen! I love my friends at the shop and they are doing everything possible to get my van fixed.

Friday afternoon Gary came over to tell me what's up. They will be putting a new motor in my van. It will probably take 10 to 12 days to get the motor to Loa and installed. In the meantime, they have loaned me a Blazer to drive until mine is fixed. It is costing them a lot of money but they are determined to do things right. I have the utmost respect and love for them.

I probably should tell you of one of the decisions I made before I left Loa on Thursday morning because it turned out to be of great importance. Every day I take three or four vitamin supplements and a couple of prescription pills. One of the pills is for allergies and the other is to prevent water retention. I decided not to take the water pill inasmuch as I'd be on the road and I didn't want to have to stop every hour to pee. I went to the bathroom the last thing before I walked out the door---probably about 11:20 a.m. I loaded my stuff, drove to Richfield, filled with gas and thought about going to the restroom but it was not urgent. I figured before I was in trouble I'd be on I-15 and there would be several convenience store/fuel stops where I could find a restroom. As it turned out, I didn't get to a restroom until about 5:00 p.m. at Wal-Mart. If I'd taken my water pill, I'd have had to go at Richfield and then while waiting for the tow truck, I'd have had to get out of the car and "bare" everything at least two times right there at the side of the van with the whole world looking on. Not taking my water pill last Thursday was one of the better decisions I've made in my lifetime.

The end of my most recent adventure is coming to a close. It certainly was not all bad. I had the privilege of riding/interacting with two good-looking men with whom I had a very good time. At Richfield while I was waiting at the Dodge dealership, I called Patti and told her, "I think I'm in love again." The driver was climbing into the truck at the time and heard me. When I said what I said, I wasn't paying attention and didn't realize he was close enough to hear. After I was through talking to Patti and had hung up the phone, I said to Rick, "I hope I didn't embarrass you, considering that you are young enough to be my son." Rick laughed and said, "Actually, I'm flattered." Aaaaaahhhhh! Not only is he good looking---he is also very gracious and happily married with children. AND Gary and I are still friends and I love him more now than before. He is also young enough to be my son and is happily married with children.

There are many things to be learned during any adventure. One of the most important things I have learned is to be more aware of what's going on under my van. I am going to be checking under the van each time before I drive it. If I had looked while was getting fuel in Richfield there may have been an indication of something wrong: a drop or two of fresh oil or something. I am also going to walk around my van each day before I drive it to make sure the tires are okay. No, there was no problem with the tires but that doesn't mean there never will be. I need to be aware of those things. In years past I have always relied on Jack to notice things like that. Obviously, I don't have that crutch any more. I must be more self-reliant.

This paragraph is a Post Script to the above: Out of curiosity, I went outside and looked at my driveway where my van was parked before I left. After the oil was changed my van was brought back to me and parked in my driveway. I then drove to the grocery store and back and parked it in my driveway. It was parked in two slightly different places and there are two small oil spots. There has never been an oil drip on my driveway since we moved here, until now. If I had looked under the van and seen the oil, I may have been able to avoid this whole ordeal. In my defense, I had no reason to think there would be any problem inasmuch as I'd just had the oil changed. They have changed oil for me before in other vehicles and there have been no problems. This, for some reason, was different. And now I am different.

I do love you all so very much.