Personalities and what I like

Question: What personality trait do you admire most and why?

I would have to say I put a lot of credence in honesty. I can handle most anything other than people not telling the truth. If someone lies to you once, then it is hard to believe anything they tell you after that and anything they told you before comes into question. Everyone embellishes stories, which I can overlook. But to out and out lie is hard to ignore.

I do love someone that is open, someone that doesn't seem to take time to phrase their sentences right. Maybe because I am like that. I am an open book. I don't usually hedge around things, unless I feel saying it outright will do damage is someway. I always try to tell it as it is. Sometimes I come off rude and abusive, I suppose. But I do like people that you know where you stand with them.

I also love someone who is funny. I love to laugh. If someone can tell a great story, I love being around them. I guess that is why all my family members are big jokers. They know they can get around Mom by just being funny or telling a silly joke. It usually works, too. That is not a bad thing, because it can really lighten the load when things get tense.

Engagement

Question: How did you become engaged?

Gil and I had been dating for several months, exclusively. We spent all our free, awake time together. We went to the beach before work when I worked afternoons, we went to his parents house and listened to music, we ate our lunches together at work. We were always together. I knew before he asked me that we would someday marry. He was going to school and working full time, so I figured we wouldn't marry right away, but that we would become engaged soon. I even told my roommate that I knew Gil was going to ask me to marry him. That was a week before he actually did.

We went to the beach one afternoon. It was a little cold, so we just parked on a cliff overlooking the ocean and sat in his car talking as we watched the sun start to go down. Inside the car was a warm setting. We sat there talking; talking about the future. Then he asked me. I do not remember exactly how he did, but I remember my answer. I told him I knew a week before that he was going to ask me. He did not have a ring to present, but the sincerety and love he showed was more than enough for me.

We were married about a year later on March 29, 1969.

We have been married 43 years now, so I guess it was a good match. Don't you think?

Music, music, music

Question: What kind of music do you like?

My most favorite, admired, adored, beloved, cherished, dearest, revered music type is church hymns. I love to sing the hymns and the wonderful Primary songs that I learned in my youth. I often use them to get me through something that is unpleasant or difficult or to just lift my spirits on a dreary day.

Now if I want to get my housework done, I love the songs of Broadway, especially Andrew Lloyd Webber's songs. I have a best of CD that really gets work done quickly. Or sometimes it gets me dancing and I forget about working.

I love folk music: John Denver, PP&M, the Kingston Trio, Woody Guthrie songs, the Weavers and so on. They are so inspirational. They sing songs that make you think, often political in nature. I wish we had more of that type of music today.

I love Country Western. Patsy Cline, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Garth Brooks. There are very few artists in the genre that I don't like or would listen to. I love them especially when I am alone in the car. I get to singing along with them and could just see me with a full back up of guitars and a fiddle singing in the Grand Ole Opry. Tee hee.

Blues, not so much. There are some songs I love, but for the most part I do not listen to the blues much.

I love big band era songs. Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman and so on. My mother's type of music, which surprises me at times.

Rap is deplorable. Cannot stand listening to it.

Most of the more modern songs I just do not listen to much and do not have a desire to. I do not feel they tell the stories that the older music tells. I also have a hard time understanding them. It seems the beat is faster and they pronounce the words less clearly, so it is hard for me to know what they are even saying.

I must say I have a song running in my head most of the time. Often it is a Primary song or hymn. Often it might be a jingle from a commercial I have heard. Something is always going on there.

Gil plays the guitar, banjo, uke and mandolin. I love the music her performs, which is usually folk music.

Enjoyments then and now - are they the same?

Question: What things do you enjoy doing today that you also enjoyed doing as a child?

I learned to read and then had a book in my hand often. I love(d) to read! Reading takes me to places that I would probably never go otherwise and allows me to me wonderful characters. When I finish a book I always feel very low because I have lost friends that I have spent a lot of time with and will miss. That is why I will often read the sequel, if there is one, to any book I read. I have found, though, that most sequels never meet my expectations.

I also love to create things. When I was very little, I was often found making mud pies. My mother was not happy with this endeavor. I loved working with that medium and would try to "bake" it so I could keep it. Mud does not harden well, though. It breaks when you try to move it. Now I don't use mud, but I do like to create. I like to see a finished project and see what I can do to create it in my own way. I purchase patterns for many things, but I seldom follow them.

I love to make up stories. I have always been a dreamer. I still think the stories in my head are better than anything you would see on TV. Perhaps someday I will write some down and see what others think.

I honestly don't think people change all that much in their make-up from when they were kids. They just change the way they approach things from then.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Question: What did you want to be when you grew up?

I always wanted to be a mom. I couldn't think of a better occupation to be. Someone to take care of the kids, to make dinner and sew costumes. Seriously that is what I wanted to be.

In high school they wanted us to discuss with our counsellors what we wanted to be. I stated I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I had read a book about them and thought they were fascinating in that they could decifer why people did what they did. That is what I wanted to be. My school counsellor actually called my mom in for a discussion. He felt that I was being unrealistic in my goals. Unbelievable.

What made the discussion worse is at the end, he stated I should strive to be a nurse. That was a good profession for a girl. Not being a doctor.

To add insult to injury, my mom stated I should take business classes because the best I would ever be was a secretary. A secretary! How dare here. I had much more lofty goals. Lo and behold, what was one of the jobs I held? A secretary. I was also a teacher's aide, an assistant to an elected official, an assistant Clerk/Recorder who managed the office, a Business Services Officer for a Probation Department in charge of a multi-million dollar budget and finally and quilt store owner. See I could have been a psychiatrist if I had not been discouraged.

No one should tell someone else they cannot be something they want to be. They should encourage them to strive for their goals. If they fall short, that is something they have to deal with. But don't discourage them.

What was I doing when President Kennedy was shot?

Question: Where were you and what were you doing the day President Kennedy was shot? The day the first man landed on the moon?

What an easy question, as far as President Kennedy is concerned. I think anyone from age of 12 and up remembers where and what was going on at the moment we learned of him being shot.

I was in Bonneville High School, on the stage in our auditorium. I was a Sophomore and the student director of Our Town. Many of us in the play had drama class that hour and were staging the production. I heard something coming over the loud speaker, but we couldn't make out what they were saying because we were being quite noisy in the cavernous auditorium. I got a chair and stood up on it to turn the speaker up louder. Since it was up as loud as it would go, I put my ear next to it and repeated back to others what was being said.

At first it was the principal stating President Kennedy had been shot, which I reported. Then they put the mic next to the radio, and we started hearing the actual news. Everyone on the stage went quiet as I repeated back what was being said. Finally someone opened the stage door into the hallway and we all could hear better. I stepped down and we all stood in stunned silence as we listened to the news.

Finally the teacher requested we all return to the classroom, which was just across the hallway. By the time we got there, girls were starting to cry. I felt a lump in my throat, too. I loved President Kennedy.

Finally it was decided we would be sent home. It took some time to organize the busses to come and get all of us. Very few of us lived close enough to walk or had cars to take us. We all just kind of stayed in our classrooms listening to the broadcast of the news until we were informed the busses were pulling up.

School was out the rest of the time until the day after his funeral, as I remember it. I remember even my mom having the funeral day off. We all sat in front of the TV watching the procession take place.

Since that day, I have read most articles in major publications and many books about President Kennedy. I loved him as a president and as a man. My loved for him as waned some after learning of his liaisons with other women, but I still think he was a good president.

My heart goes out to his family for what they went through and for the press following them even to this day everywhere they go. All that is left is his daughter, Caroline.

The other part of the question was where were you when the first man landed on the moon. I honestly have few memories of that event. I remember it happened. I remember reading about it and talking about it at school. What a momentous occasion, but nothing specific of where I was or what I was doing comes to mind. Age, you know, plays tricks on us. Or is it because so much happened during that time that I just don't remember it? Who knows.

Food preferences. Seems an odd question.

Question: What are your food preferences? How did they come about?

That truly does seem like an odd question to come up during a journal entry. But there it was.

When you think about it, it is not so odd. Food does help make you what you are. So why not ask the question?

I love food. I use food to make me happy and to console me when I am down. We just came back from Mom's 90th birthday party celebration. When asked what we did, it was noted that it all was surrounded by food. We went here and ate this; afterwards we went there and had fresh water clams; we went to Anne's and had steak and so on. It was fun, but food was definitely at highlight at each event - except the quilt show we got to attend while we were there.

So food preferences. Growing up in southeastern Idaho, our food choices were not as great as my kids had it growing up in California, the bread bowl of the world. In Idaho we ate a LOT of potatoes. They were readily available and cheap and often free from local farmers. Vegetables consisted of green beans, peas, yellow squash (yech), corn on the cob and such. Fruit was mostly apples and pears and berries. My memories of dinners were some sort of meat, always a pot roast on Sunday afternoon. With the meat we had potatoes, never rice or noodles, and green beans. Occasionally bread would be served, but it was usually sliced, white bread. Lunch at home was usually sliced, white bread sandwiches of bologna or peanut butter and jelly. Breakfast was cereal during the week and bacon and eggs on weekend. Always. Snacks were limited. We were not allowed to have sodas at all. That was a treat to be saved for family get togethers only. Ice cream we had maybe, if we were lucky, once a week. Popcorn occasionally. No candy unless we saved and bought it ourselves. Cake or pie usually accompanied Sundays repast. That was pretty much it.

Let me tell you about our school lunches, though. This was in our elementary school at least. We had these wonderful ladies that came into our school kitchen, which was in a building right across from my first grade class and again my fifth grade class. They would come early in the morning and make bread, usually dinner rolls. They would serve turkeys with mashed potatoes and gravy or macaroni and cheese and jello or roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy and on and on. I LOVED to eat at school. I always ate at school during my first eight years. I would savor every bite. I could not believe we got such good food, especially seeing what is served in todays school lunch rooms.

I was a slow eater. I was often the first one in the lunch room and always the last one out. I often missed the recess part of lunch because I was slowly eating, and enjoying, my lunch. The lunch ladies would come and sit with me to hurry me along. I often was late getting to class afterwards, too. I didn't care. I LOVED my lunch time. The one thing them hurrying me up did was I was encouraged to eat really fast, which I still do today, which is not good either.

You probably think I was fat eating meals like that. Well no I was not during that time. I am now and have been my entire adult life, but not then. Then I was skinny as could be. A friend told me one time that when I walked into class the first time, she thought she had never seen anyone so skinny. That was because when I wasn't eating, I was running, biking, skipping, whatever. Then I could eat like that. Now I still like to eat like that but I don't do the running, biking, skipping, so it stays with me.

In high school, french fries was the lunch I preferred. We had a little shop across from school at both Bonneville and Pocatello high schools. I never had enough money to buy a real lunch, but I always had enough to buy french fries and a soda. That is when the weight was a little harder to keep down. During my senior year, I thinned back down because I never ate lunch.

After graduating from high school from Cody Wyoming, I was working at Western Union. I had the opportunity to come to California for a job with them and took it. Food in California is another thing all together. Californian's have meat and potatoes, but they also have oodles of noodle dishes, vegetables and fruits that are relatively cheap and very fresh. I was introduced to such things as broccoli and brussel sprouts, asparagus and kiwi fruit. Yummy. Now I will try many new things and seldom eat just meat and potatoes.

My husband will eat anything, absolutely anything. One of my favorite stories about him is him eating quiche. I loved to try different recipes. I have a million or so cookbooks and use to spend a lot of time reading them and then trying the recipes I would mark to try in them. I love cheese and thought quiche sounded wonderful. I made it one night and loved it. It was just the two of us; I guess it was before we started having kids. Between us we ate half the quiche. When we were done, I said how wonderful I thought it was. He would usually agree, but he said nothing. So I pressed him on what he thought about it. He said, "Please, don't ever make that again." He hated it. But he ate it and ate more than one helping. He taught me through the years to try it. Because of that, I eat things now that at age 18 when I came to California I would have never attempted.

I love food. I love all kinds. I love all American food, but it is not my favorite. I love Italian for its yummy sauces and pastas. I love Chinese for its blend of veggies and meats. I love Thai for its veggies and heat. I love Indian food for the curries and spicing they do. There is an English pub here that I love to go have breakfast at. It is called the Fox and the Goose. We have a local Lebanese restaurant that I love and would go to every week if possible. It is the Maloofs restaurant. I love it all. When asked where I want to go eat, I usually say wherever because I can find something yummy anywhere - except McDonald's. I hate their food.

Child rearing philosphy - hmmmm

Question: What is your child rearing philosophy?

As you go through life your philosophies change as you age. Had I been asked to put this information down when I was actually raising my children, it probably would have been greatly different than it is now. I will try to put down what I believed then and now.

I was a strict enforcer of time frames for children. I felt, and still do, that children should have a schedule and hold to it as close as possible. There are times to relax that schedule, but when all things are running "normal" then try to adhere to them. I believe breakfast, lunch and dinner should be at about the same time each day. A child can almost tell time by how their stomach feels. It gives them comfort to have that stable time frame in their lives. I believe it also helps them stay healthier than if they go long periods between meals and it definitely cuts down on snacking in between. Along the same lines, I believe the family should be at the table each meal with no TV present. The TV is something that was added after raising kids. We often had it on during dinner. It was disruptive at times.

Bed time is a more stringent time frame that should be adhered to. Children need to have a set time each night to go to bed. It can be flexible for special events or for summer time. I believe, then and now, a child should be put to bed, not sent to bed. A story should be read or told; a discussion of their day could be had; a tickling session, as long as it doesn't disrupt the child from falling asleep shortly thereafter, could be had. Make going to bed a fun and one-on-one time whereever possible. It does two things. One it gives the kids a stability again that you strive for in a child's life. It also gives you a time that is yours. If a child stays up until you go to bed, when is your time of the day. Now all that said, teens are a different breed altogether. That strict time frame is more for young children, up to junior high school level. Once they are in high school, I was much more lenient, though they did have a settle down time of 10 p.m. on school nights even then. Bed time was more up to them.

I was fairly strict in other ways. I said no way too often. Now I would try to structure their lives in a more learning, giving atmosphere. I would let them do things that their stretched their minds in a curious fashion. I would also not let TV or video games be a major part of the family life. I would set certain times and shows that could be watched. I would emphasize reading a lot more.

We were a family that went places together a lot. Children learn by doing. We camped and travelled and went sightseeing. They didn't always want to be there, but I think they learned to appreciate what we did and where we went. We often would take what we called short cuts home from places to broaden their horizons. Sometimes it was not so short; actually it was never shorter. It gave them a different outlook of their environment. I believe it showed them there are many ways to do something--even just going home.

I included church in their bringing up, but I forced it on them. Now none of them feel church is important in their lives. I wish I would have handled that different. I would have included more prayer and done family home evening every week instead of rarely, like we did. I would have encouraged Gil to be more a part of the church activities, though it was hard with his work schedule.

More than anything, I would have shown and said how much I love them. I would put my arms around them more than I did. I love my kids. I love how they turned out. I love their families now. They are all good people and are doing well in this world. I guess Gil and I did okay when you come right down to it.

My childhood home(s)

Question: Tell about the house you lived in as a child. Do you remember the addresses or phone numbers?

Well I can start out first with the last question. I do not remember the phone numbers. I seldom remember my cell phone number that I have now. I don't know why but numbers and I are not good friends.

I have two homes that are dear to me from my childhood. My first was on South Water Street in Idaho Falls Idaho. I do not remember the number. I did not remember it was South Water until I Googled it. I remember we lived near a park and across from the park was our church that I was baptized in. I think if someone took me there, I could take you to the house [if it is still there, of course].

That house was a neat house. It was an older home. It only had two bedrooms and one bath. Of course since there were three kids, we all slept in the same room. From what I have been told, we all slept together in the same bed. I know that was problemmatic from my siblings. I was the youngest and Mom always placed me in the middle. I also was not totally potty trained and would occasionally wet the bed. Needless to say my brother and sister were not happy about that.

We had a porch on the front and just a stoop at the back door. We had a nice backyard with a garage that faced the alley way. Behind all that was the railroad tracks. I remember the train and how powerful it was when it went by. I loved to sit in the back and watch it go by. Dad was worried that I was too interested in the train and someone would always come into the backyard when a train was passing by to keep an eye on me. I don't think I would have ever left that yard to see it closer, but I did stop everything I was doing when one went by.

We lived there from the time I was two until we moved into our own home in Ammon when I was six.

Two strong memories from there were one when I stepped on a bee. Dad fixed a bowl of mud for me to stick my foot in to take out the poison. I sat on the back stoop with my foot it in for a long time. The family had their dinner while I sat back there. It made me sad that they did not wait for me, but I loved having my toes in the squishy mud.

The other memory was coming home one day and running up the front porch only to be greeted by my mom yelling to go to the back door. "Don't come in this way," she yelled. "Go around. Get away." I just stood there looking at her. Soon Dad came around the house carrying a broom and told me to get away. He ran up onto the porch. Then I saw my mom's concern. There was a bat on the front screen door. Dad knocked it down and stepped on it. To this day, I fear bats. My mom was really freaking out that day.

The other house I remember really well was our house in Ammon. The numbers of the house was 2330, but for some reason I cannot remember the street name. Odd, but that is how my memory works these days. Afterall that was in the 1950s.

To me it was a huge house on a huge piece of property. When Gil and I went back to see it thirty years later, I saw a small house one an average size property. Funny how kids visions of their past is different from reality. The house was only a two bedroom with a den that could be closed off into another bedroom. It also only had one bathroom. My brother got the den. Anne and I got the other bedroom. It did not have a dining room like our house on Water Street did, but it had a big kitchen with room for our dining table.

After a while Dad built out the basement to have two more bedrooms, a tv/rumpus room and a washroom and pantry. I got one of the bedrooms downstairs after that, as did Bob. Anne had the one upstairs and when Kris came along, they shared that room.

They planted a weeping willow to the north of the house. It was small. When we saw it again in later years, it was finally big. Big enough to swing from it by then.

We had a huge garden in the back, which we harvested enough vegetables to be canned for the winter months.

The rest was all grass. I mowed that grass often, so I know how big it really was. It was huge!

I loved that house.

We moved from there the summer before I entered seventh grade. We moved to San Diego for a year. We moved back in the spring of that school year. We stayed there until after my sophomore year in high school. Then we moved to Pocatello for my junior year. Moved to Idaho Falls for part of my senior year. Moved to Cody Wyoming for the second semester of my senior year. Not a lot of stability during those years. I wouldn't give up my experiences in each school, though. I guess it didn't hurt me any to move around so much.

I loved living in Ammon. It was a great, small community. It was very religious oriented. The church was a big part of all our lives. All the teachers in our school were Mormon. All the activities in the community were school and church combined activities. I loved it all.

My sisters, Anne and baby Kris, in the front room of our house in Ammon in 1960.

Position in family

Question: Were you the oldest, youngest or middle child?

I was the youngest child for ten years. There were three of us. Parents should never have just three children. My brother and sister were and always will be best of friends. I am just that other person that had to tag along with them, the one bringing up the rear, the one that Mom and Dad told the others to "keep an eye on."

I used to say a prayer daily that my mom would have another child. I used to pray for a sister, but then I got desperate and would pray just for a sibling. I wanted someone I could be best friends with, that I could hang out with.

Guess what prayers are answered. The year I turned ten my mom had a beautiful baby girl. Her name is Kristina. Wow! Did our world change. I loved her from the get-go. She was my answer to a prayer.

My mom was 36 years old. I don't think she liked having a baby when she was that old. All of a sudden her hair was too grey, she was too old, she didn't want people to think of her as a grandma to this child. Mom started dying her hair an auburn color to look younger. Anne, my oldest sister, seemed embarrased that Mom was pregnant "at her age." I am sure that did not help my mom's outlook. Other changes came that year but not because of the baby coming; they were on their way long before then. More later.

My brother, Bob, and Kristina.

With the birth of Kris, I was then a middle child, with youngest child tendencies. That means, at least to me, I still expected to be treated like the youngest, the cutest, the more darling. Well that was gone because there was this beautiful little baby that took the attention of us all.

She was the greatest, though. She was born with black, black hair. It all fell out and the new hair that replaced it was almost a white blond. She has maintained that blond hair even to this day some fifty years later.

The birth, as stated above, moved me into a middle child position. One of responsibility. One that had to help more around the house. One that got to take care of the baby once she was not so breakable. I grew up some during those early years. I learned what it was like to take care of another life. I was given responsibilities that I had never had before. It set me in good stead with the neighbors when I let them know I could baby sit. They knew I had experience. I started babysitting for others when I was eleven. I loved that as it gave me money for me to spend without asking.

When I was twelve, I started making my own clothes. Simple things at first. By the time I was in high school I made almost all my own clothes made using the money I made baby sitting.

Now the down side for Mom having a baby when her previous baby was 10 was that at 18, I moved away. I moved to California to follow a job that was offered to me. That left this baby that I helped take care of alone, with no siblings at home. She instantly became an oldest child with youngest child upbringing. I think that was hard on her. I have always wished I would have stayed around longer to help her through into her teens at least.

It is was it is.

My favorite aunt

Statement: Tell about your favorite aunt.

My favorite aunt? Hmmm. Let me think. This is hard because I love all my aunts for different reasons.

I had several on my dad's side, but I never really had a chance (or made one when I got older) to get to know them. Many I don't even remember meeting.

My mom's side there were five. Each very individual people. Let me tell you a little about each one.

Aunt Barbara was Uncle Jim's wife. She is wonderful. She is soft spoken and very loving. She was a farmer's wife, which was something I always wanted to be. She has had health issues off and on throughout her life, yet she was one of the strongest women I know. I never spent too much time at their house. When we were there it was just for a day. My main rememberances of Barbara were at family get togethers at Grandma's house, where there were loads of people. I just remember never hearing a cross word from her or any gossipy discussions. She always seemed perfect to me. She was beautiful, too.

Aunt Nola was Uncle Park's first wife. She was a little different from my other aunts; a little harder to get to know. They were not active in the church at the time she was in the family. I got to know Nola really well when in my junior year in high school, we were living in Pocatello and my mom decided to move back to Idaho Falls. I had a few months before school was out. I loved Pocatello High and did not want to leave. Uncle Park and Aunt Nola lived on the other side of Pocatello. Their kids went to the other high school there. They had a bedroom downstairs that was not being used and offered to house me for the rest of the school year. The only problem was getting to school. I drove but had no car. Uncle Park worked as a Safeway manager a few blocks from my high school. I would get up really early and go to work with him. I would do my homework in his office until it was time to go to school. Then I would walk to school. After school I would walk back to his store and stay until he got off. It made for a long day, but I had two set times I could work on my homework without interuption. I did really well that year because of it.

Staying at their house, I found that Nola was very funny. She had a real sense of humor. She was great with her kids, who were all about my age. She was a good cook, too. Like Mom, she worked outside the home. I was really thankful for her and Uncle Park allowing me to be part of their family for that semester.

Later Uncle Park married Colleen. She was a wonderful friend to Mom. They spent summers together and for a while lived near each other in St George Utah. She was so fond of Uncle Park and took good care of him. Where I never stayed with them or got to know her real well, I learned to love her from the stories my mom told me about her. She has such a warm and giving heart and I am thankful to know her.

Aunt Margene was my mom's sister. There were quite a few years between them. As adults they became very close. I loved Aunt Margene. She was witty and always ready with a helping thought. She was a great cook and seemed always to be working in her kitchen cooking, baking or canning or something along those lines. They lived in an old, two story home. The outside was covered with lava rock from the desert. I loved that house. To get upstairs in the loft where the kids slept, you had to go up a ladder. I was okay with that, but I hated to go back down. When I stayed there, I refused to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I was afraid I would fall down the ladder.

Her home was an exciting home to be in. Uncle David was a very funny man, who loved to tease all the kids and especially me. The cousin that I was closest to was Brenda, their oldest. I spent many a summer at their farm. It was fun because everyone, guest or not, had work to do. Uncle David would get us all up early to milk the cows. This was before milking machines. I would get maybe an inch of milk in the bucket by the time everyone else had a bucket full. I thought it was fun to try to milk, but I was slow and very inadequate in doing so. The worst part was when the cows pooped in the middle of trying to milk it or when they hit you with their tail.

They had a huge garden that we would help weed or harvest the ripe veggies. They had an old fashioned barn that had a barn loft. We would spend time up there. They always had hay in a round pile outside the barn. I loved jumping from the barn into the hay. Uncle David would holler at us for doing so because he was afraid there would be a pitch fork or something we would land on. Never happened, but I could understand his worries. It didn't stop me from jumping though.

Good memories at their house.

Aunt Margene was confined to a wheelchair as she got older. Don't think for a moment that stopped her from doing anything she wanted to do, though. She got more done in a wheelchair than I do with full use of my body. She was always an inspiration to me. Whenever I thought my life was hard, I thought of her and what she had to do just to get out of bed each day. She did it alone, for the most part. I could never feel sorry for myself with her as an inspiration.

Aunt Margaret I didn't get to know very well until I was a mother. They lived in Utah and then Michigan while Uncle Kent went to college. Then they moved to Arizona where he was a professor at one of the universities there. I only saw them at Grandma's house. Well there was one time Mom and I went to see them in Utah before they moived to Michigan. The only story I can remember about that trip was Aunt Margaret always had a pot of water boiling on the stove. I was helping feed her baby that was sitting in the high chair. I accidentally dropped the spoon I was using. I picked it up and went to the sink to wash it off. Aunt Margaret took it from me and dropped it in the boiling water and got me a new one to use. I always thought my mom was a cleanliness above all else person, but I learned Aunt Margaret went a step above her.

As I grew up and would see Aunt Margaret, she always commented on how beautiful my skin was. I always have had good skin. I never had blemishes. I was just lucky. She always made me feel beautiful. I always thought she was special because she had 9 kids and never complained, not ever. If I had 9 kids, I would have to have a lot of help to raise them. I was doing my best to raise 3.

When Gil and I went to see the spring training for baseball in the Phoenex area, Aunt Margaret and I had the opportunity to attend the temple together. That is a very bonding time. I think about that often when I think about attending the temple.

Aunt Rae was the baby of the family. She was talk and skinny compared to Mom and Aunt Margene. They were relatively short and not skinny. They were not fat, but not skinny. Aunt Rae had seven kids. Five boys and two girls. I used to baby sit for her when we lived in Pocatello. She had her hands full. Those boys were everywhere doing everything all at once.

When Aunt Rae gave birth to her last child, she had a stroke a few days later. She was given a special blessing that she would raise her kids, which she did. I loved listening to her afterwards because she had a hard time coming up with the right words. Mom told me I could not laugh, but it was funny as she would mean to say refrigerator and say spaghetti. We just would all learn to help her with her words. She went on to raise all those kids, was a Bishop's wife, and a Relief Society President even with her handicap, which I don't think she ever saw it as that. She was remarkable to me.

Hearing that about each of my aunts can give you an idea as to why I could never choose one that was my favorite. They all enriched my life. I am thankful for each of them and for the guidance and inspiration they were to me.

From left to right: Mom, Uncle Boyd, Aunt Rae, Uncle Park, Aunt Colleen, Uncle Jim, Aunt Barbara, Aunt Margaret, Aunt Margene in wheelchair and Grandma.

My advice to those younger than me

Question: What is your advice to those younger than you?

Well, when I was just a youngin' my grandpappy sat me on his knee and. . . .

Seriously I am old enough, darn it, to be able to advise others younger than me. I know most will not take that advice, but here it is for what it is worth.

1. Do not worry about what others think of you. They are too busy thinking about what you will think of them to care. Be your own self.

2. When your kids are small, keep the words don't and no out of the vocabulary as much as possible. Let them explore and try different things. They will learn better that way. Of course if something is going to hurt them, then the words should be used. Let them climb up the slide the wrong way. Let them climb up that tree. Let them ride their skateboard on their stomachs until they get the courage to ride it the right way. Let them take that old clock apart to see what makes it tick. Watch them explore. Help them understand. Be with them in their doings.

3. Create a bucket list before you are too old to do many of them. Then work some into your life now.

4. Love your spouse without judgement. Do things with him/her. Develop interests together. Laugh at their jokes. Comfort them when they need comforting. Be there for them. Remember you are going to spend more of your life with them than you will with your children, friends or co-workers.

5. Have family reunions with cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents. This gives you and your children a sense of belonging that doesn't come many other ways.

6. To go along with #5, do your genealogy as far back as you can. When you get stuck, go to your extended family to add to it.

7. Along with #5, write in your journal no less than one time a week. As you age you do forget. You will have a wonderful resource to go back to to help you remember certain activities and times in your life. Some say a journal is for your progeny. I say your journal is for you as you forget the times, good and bad, you had in your life. The people that come after you will enjoy reading what you have to say, but it is more for you in this life.

8. Do your scrapbooking as you go along. Write narratives to go along with the pictures. Identify who is in the picture. Don't wait to start until you retire. You will forget certain aspects of the times the pictures were taken. Plus you will have so much to do, it will be overwhelming. Ask me. I am working on getting some of that done now.

9. Start a blog. Write about what you want to write about. It can be about anything. Remember that you can set it up to be private, but nothing on the internet is private completely. Be careful not to put anything you wouldn't want someone else to read. Write about your trips, movies you watched, books you read, your family and extended family. Whatever. Just do it.

10. Appreciate yourself. You are unique - no one like you in the whole wide world. Love you for how you are and who you are.

There. That is the wisdom of Peggy.

Smells of Childhood

Question:  What is a special smell you remember in your childhood?

I grew up in an almost completely (if not 100%) Mormon community. In the 1950s Moms, for the most part, stayed home and sewed and cooked and grew vegetable gardens and baked. Carol, my best friend, lived across the street from us. Her mom, Bernice, was so great. Once or twice a week she baked bread. During the warmer days when doors and windows were open, we could smell her bread as we walked around the corner coming home from school.

When I smelled that, I would run home, dump my books and run across the street. She always made an extra loaf just for us kids as we came home, and she always had fresh, real butter for us, too. Homemade bread is the best. But homemade bread just out of the oven with fresh butter is even better. If she would have let me, I could have and would have eaten that whole loaf.

I always wanted to be there first, so I could get the end slice with harder crust one one side. Yummy!

Thanks, Bernice.

Wanted One Mother

Statement: Write a want ad that describes your mother.

Wanted one woman with refined tastes in clothing and behavior. Someone willing to work long hours and oversee not only a full time job but four active kids without the assitance of others. Someone with a strong, religious background and a support staff for a sounding board. Must have own financial arrangements and car. Must be willing to take chances on advancement and personal relationships. Only someone with a strong backbone need apply.

Favorite games as a child

Question: Tell about your favorite games you played as a child.

I loved my older brother, Bob. I loved his friends. I loved everything they did. So I followed him around as much as I could. I played football in the backyard with him and his friends. Well until my dad stepped in and told me they were too rough with me and I couldn't play anymore. I think Bob was happy over that statement. I was sad.

I loved dolls. I carried at least one of my dolls with me whereever I went. I dressed them, changed them and dressed them again. I made dresses for them when I got old enough to sew by hand. I bathed them and fed them. I loved them. They were mine and they loved me unconditionally.

My mom hated cats. I loved them. Still do. There were a lot of cats in the neighborhood. I would just grab one of them and dress them in my doll's clothes. Then I would put them in my doll's buggy and try to keep them there as I walked down the street with my living "baby" in the carriage. It got so bad that if a cat saw me coming, they would run the other way.

My best friend, Carol, lived across the street. She and I were together a lot. We slept together often. Occasionally at my house but more often at hers. They had a big feather mattress in their basement. I loved sleeping on it. It was huge and we would get as many people as we could on that mattress and fall asleep. I always tried to get in the center so I could stay there all night. If you started on the side or at the end, you were usually pushed to the floor by morning.

We kids of the neighborhood loved to go doorbell ditching. I am sure most of you know what that is, but for those of you who don't, I will explain. You would, as a group, get near a house but not too near. Someone, usually the youngest, had to go ring the doorbell. Then run back to a hiding spot. Then we would watch as someone would come to the door and look for whoever rang the door bell. It was fun. I don't know why now that we thought it was fun, but it was.

All the houses had big vegetable gardens. We would go raid their gardens. I loved fresh carrots and would either grab some of those or the peas. Yummy. There were some houses we did not do that to. Like mine. If my dad would have caught us raiding our garden, we would have been punished. One of my favorite places to raid was Carol's garden. Her mom had a huge rhubarb plant. Sour! Yes. But really good with a little salt on it. She would get mad at us if she caught us. It was right outside her bedroom window, so she often would hear us and come after us. That was part of the fun, though.

During the summer we seldom slept in our own beds. If we didn't sleep over at someone elses houses, we slept outside. In fact we usually slept outside if we slept over at someone elses homes. We would do all these shenanigans during those nights. We wandered around our neightborhood well into the early hours. Then we would lie down and watch the stars. Oh what wonderful times those were.

We had a large irrigation ditch that ran behind our house. We would walk up the banks for some distance and then jump onto our inner tubes from cars or even big ones from tractors and ride down until we got to our house. We seldom went past our house because the ditch narrowed down and started running faster from that point on and there were several bridges and other hazards from that point on. What fun that was.

On my 8th Christmas, I got my first bike. That winter was a long one and had a lot of snow. I did not get to ride it until around my birthday in March. That was painful. I would see it every day, but couldn't do anything with it. My best friend, Carol, decided she would show me how to ride it since I had never ridden a bike by myself. She got to ride it before me. Ouch that was painful after waiting three months to get to use it. She was riding along just fine showing me how to do it. On the way back to our driveway, she got nervous that a car was approaching and ran into the curb and fell over. She broke her leg. But even worse (what a friend I was) was my bike fender was all bent up. I cried. Everyone thought it was because Carol had to go to the hospital and spend the night. No, it was because my new bike was damaged. My dad tried to straighten out the fender, but it never looked the same after that. Boo hoo.

My bike and I went everywhere together. The most fun thing I loved to do when I was all alone was to ride my bike into the hills. There was the community cemetery up there. It was covered with beautiful, big trees. It was high enough that you could look out over the community and see the church and the school and on past all that into Idaho Falls. It was so peaceful. I would ride up there and just sit on the grass and day dream. I would lie back and watch the clouds go by. I loved it. I was very careful and respectful of the gravesites. I would not walk on them or sit against the gravestones. I loved to read what was on them and who was buried there. Not that I knew many of them, but it was fun. I especially loved it if they listed what they died of or other pertinent information. I would then make up stories about their lives and deaths.

My childhood, as I look back, was idyllic. My kids and definitely my grandkids could not have a childhood like I did. It was free of boundaries and don'ts. I could leave the house first thing in the morning and not be expected back until dinner time. No one asked what I did or where I went. After dinner I could go back out and not be expected back until the sun went down. Mom always said once porch lights went on, I had to come home. There were no worries about strangers or weird people. Everyone knew one another and everyone knew who I belonged to. I am sure if I needed help I would have had several moms or dads help me out. I am also sure if I did anything wrong those same moms and dads would have let my parents know about it.

I was safe and secure and I lived in my own little world.

Washing machine woes

Question: Tell about a frustrating experience you've had on washday. . . .with the machine. . . .the outcome of the clothes, etc.

This is a funny question. Washday is usually a simple, wash a couple of loads, dry them, fold them and put them away. Many years ago, that is not so true. I guess that is where this question came from. But I do have a couple of stories of washing day woes.

When my mom was in the hospital after giving birth to my younger sister, Kris, my dad and I decided to do the laundry. At that time we had the old fashion wringer washer. For those of you that have never dealt with this kind of washer, I will describe it. It has this big tub that you fill with water and put the clothes in. It then agitates the clothes quite like a top loading washer does today. But it does not rinse or spin dry the clothes the same. Then we had to drain the soapy water out, refill the tub with clean water often more than once to get all the soap out of the clothes. After that we had to get the water out of the clothes. The washer had a wringer attached to the top. We had to pull the clothes up out of the rinse water and run them through the wringer. I always thought this was the fun part and wanted to be part of it. Now I was 10 at the time and had helped my mom many times with this aspect of the wash. So while Dad was turned doing other things, I was pushing the clothes through the wringer. Now we were lucky enough (I think) to have an electrified wringer instead of one you had to crank. Mom had always said to smooth the clothes out as best as I could rather than just stuffing them into the wringer. So I was in that process when all of a sudden the wringer ate my fingers. Yipes! The wringer was quite powerful as it pulled my small, 10 year old fingers and then hand and then wrist into its mechanism. Thank goodness Dad was close and heard my screams for help. He turned and stopped the wringer from eatimg me up completely. Whew.

Now understand this was not really painful. Just scary. The hard part was getting the top of the wringer to let go enough to get my arm out. I had jammed the mechanism from opening up like it is supposed to when it stalls like that. There was a way to back up the wringer, so after trying to get the arm out one way, Dad put it into reverse. Ouch again as the machine started spitting my arm back out the other way.

I was free finally. I was in tears. Dad was frustrated and telling me to go upstairs and he would finish the wash. I don't remember specifics in the way he told me to go, but I don't think he was too nice about it all.

When all was said and done, I had a bruise that started just past my knuckles and ran up past my wrist. But I didn't have to help hang the clothes out on the clothesline that day, or get them in later. Dad was "swell" about all that. Mom didn't let me help with the wringer washer ever again after that.

As stated we had to dry our clothes on the clothesline outside. Well we did that outside during the summer anyway. We lived in Idaho and in the winter it was hard to sludge through the snow drifts to hang the clothes outside, so we did it inside. There were some days when the sun was pretty that we did hang them out during the winter. That was hard. Remember the clothes were wet. By the time we were through hanging them up, our fingers were turning blue. Plus when we got them in later that day, they were often just frozen solid. We had to take them inside and drape them over chairs and stuff until they thawed, finished drying and then we could fold them and put them away. We did have a make-shift clothesline downstairs next to the washer that would allow us to dry our clothes during the winter. They did not dry very fast down there, nor did they smell as nice.

One other rememberance of a washing day that was interesting was on June 30, 1970, I was two weeks over due with my first child. I had a doctor's appointment the next morning and we were going to a friends house that evening for dinner. I thought I should get our laundry done. So I spent the morning washing all our clothes at the laudromat, since we did not have a washer or dryer yet. Gil was working, so I did this by myself. I had been taking only one or two batches, as I was very big and couldn't handle more than that. That day I loaded our little VW bug up with a couple of baskets full of laundry. Off I went. All went well there. I then brought back the wet clothes and hung them all out on the line, as it was a warm and beautiful day in San Jose.

I still felt okay after that, so I cleaned the bathroom and mopped the kitchen floor. I rested a while after all that. In the afternoon, I went out and got all the clothes off the clothesline and folded them and put them away. I then spent time going through the nursery looking at all the cute clothes and things we had for the baby.

I had a full day.

When Gil got home, we got in our car and drove from San Jose to Redwood City to our friends home. We had dinner there and then sat around the table playing a board game. I was uncomfortable to say the least. I had done a lot that day. I could barely sit still.

Now these friends had had a baby in March of that year. At one point the huband, Alex, said, "Peggy, you are in labor." Well, first baby and all, I did not know what to expect, but I figured I would know if I was in labor or not. "No I'm not," I said. He said I have been watching and timing you. You keep squirming on a regular basis. You are now at 5 minutes apart. I think you need to go to the hospital.

They ushered us out of the house. I told Gil I was fine and that I was just tired from working so hard all day. "Let's go home and get a good nights rest. I have to see the doctor at 9 a.m. tomorrow." So that is what we did. We drove right by the hospital, which was half way home. All was fine.

I woke up about 6 a.m. the next morning with sharp pains. Okay, now I figured I was in labor. They were not close together, so I went to the appointment as scheduled. They sent me immediately to the hospital. I had Don several hours later. Alex knew I was in labor before I did. Funny story. I still giggle over that one.

You and your father

Question from the jar:  Did you and your father share any interests? Tell about your relationship or special things you did together.



Dad with me in front. Mom Anne and Bob

  I loved my dad. Then again what girl doesn't? I was so excited when he came home at night. The start of our evening was usually the same. He would come home, lock up his truck, sit on the back steps and take off his dirty work boots and then come into the kitchen. He would sit down and have a beer while Mom fixed dinner. I would go and sit on his knee during this time. This was always such an intimate time for me, even if he did not say a word to me. He still had his arm around me. I was his.

My dad and mom got a divorce when I was 10, so many of the memories I wish I had, I don't. He completely left my life when I was 14 and died when I was 21. Stories for another time.

Growing up in the LDS Church was magic to me. I loved to go hear stories of Jesus and sing the songs and hymns presented there. My dad was not active in the Church and could be quite negative at times. Often I was the only one that attended on Sundays. It was all I knew, so it was okay.

There were some Sundays that Dad would get up and say, "I'm going to the dump. Anyone want to go with me?" I loved going to the dump. The dump in Ammon Idaho was one that you could wander through and pick up things that were treasures to you but junk to someone else. Dad would let me wander for as long as I wanted and pretty much let me bring home anything I wanted. It was fun. Those Sundays I would stay home and go with him. Often my brother, Bob, would go along, too.

Dad was a quiet man. We would go places and he sat and listened more than participated in the discussions going on. When he did talk, people listened.

Dad was a large man, at least to me. I thought he towered over people in height. He was large around, but not fat. Just big. I loved that in him. He would hold his arm out and let me swing from it. He would pick me up and throw me up in the air like I was a feather. I never worried that he wouldn't catch me as I came down.

I loved him and he loved me, too. I miss my dad.

Question: How did you meet your in-laws?

How did I meet my in-laws?

You know we have been married 43 years now. Memory to those days is slipping some. I will tell you some of my first memories of my in-laws, primarily of my mother-in-law and my father-in-law.

They were the best people. I loved them as if they were my own parents. My mother-in-law had the unique ability to make each person feel like they were their favorite. My father-in-law loved to listen to our stories, loved the grandkids and loved politics. They were both hard working, loving people and I miss them more than anyone can imagine.

I met my husband, Gil, while we both worked at Western Union in Palo Alto California. We started dating when our night manager suggested we go out. We loved each others company and spent most of our free time together. He was going to school and working nights. I worked as a "relief operator" filling in when someone had a day off. My days and hours varied.

One day that we both had off, we went to Gil's house. I was scared, as I had never been taken to meet parents before. I usually already knew them or was just never taken to other guys homes. This was a first for me.

Pop, which is what we all called Gil's dad, was outside working in his yard. He was retired and always worked in his yard when the weather permitted. It showed, too. Gil's mom, Mom as I learned to call her, was crocheting and watching her novella - a Spanish soap opera. We talked together for a few minutes. Then Gil and I went to his room and listened to records, you know the old 33 1/3 lp versions.

That was it. That was my introduction into his family.

We came back often. I was always welcomed with open arms and a good dinner. She was the best cook.

Shortly after we went there the first time, I went with him to his house after a funeral for his uncle. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was at their house. Most of his aunts and uncles lived in the San Diego area. They were there, as were his cousins. All his brothers and sisters, their spouses and their kids were all there. He has 7 siblings. Wow! That was overwhelming! But in a way it was a good introduction. I did not have time to get nervous. I more or less just sat back and listened and watched the family. I knew I loved his family at that moment and would eventually be a part of it.

Taken in Santa Clara California sometime around August 1951 or January 1952.

The picture above is a picture of my husbands mom and dad and oldest brother, Roy. Gil is the little boy by his mom.