Age 7.
My Mom was always busy. I can never remember my Mom sitting on a couch with her feet up on a foot stool, listening to the radio or reading a book, In those days, when a young woman agreed to become the wife of her favorite boy friend, she automatically signed a contract to become the chairman of the board, the president, the secretary, the chief medical adviser, the family seamstress, the dietitian, the master chef, the social secretary, the gardener and the religious adviser of the new family. If she was lucky, her mother had trained he well in all these areas. If she was not lucky, she would have to learn all these positions while more than likely her husband was making stupid comments such as, "well that's not the way my mother did it." or "Sweetheart, I'm fix'n to go fishing with my bothers this weekend. Will you please prepare a two day camping package, including food!"
Following are a few of the unique responsibilities she inherited as a new wife.
Darning stockings: Just because a hole was worn in a stocking was no reason to discard the stocking. Mother just mended the stocking. She usually left this task until late in the evening just before bedtime. She would insert a light bulb into the stocking and then using yarn would weave back and forth until she had created a new piece of cloth to fill the hole. I was happy when she was mending stockings because she could talk to me while she darned.
Canning fruit and vegetables. This was called "canning" even though cans were never used. I guess it was easier to say "canning" than to say "bottling". This "canning" became a major task during the Autumn season. I can remember that corn, beans, tomatoes, apples, peaches, pears, pickles and jams and jellies were "canned" in quart bottles and then stored to be consumed during the winter months.
Butchering chickens - Although this was a family operation, Mom was definitely the Commander-in-chief. She would order my father and me to the chicken coop to butcher a certain number of chickens. After this was done, my mother was in charge of removing the feathers. She then gave the chickens to my father for the "gutting" or removing the insides of the chickens. She then instructed my father to cut the chickens into breasts, wings, drumsticks, thighs, and backs. The chicken was now ready to be fried at tomorrow's dinner; featuring fried chicken..
One of Grandpa's favorite OPP's (old people poems)
A row of bottles on my shelf, Caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop, Goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take, Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot, Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain, And tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze, Or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all, Go to my blood so the pressure won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright, Prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills, Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know, is what tells each one where to go!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
Memories of Mom, #1
In addition to daily duties such as preparing three meals, washing dishes, cleaning the kitchen, keeping the house clean and orderly, washing and ironing clothes, ,mending clothes and darning stockings and making certain that I had at least one weekly bath, my mother always seem to be busy doing something. One of these things was the yearly project of making soap. I don't know if housewives made soap because it wasn't available in stores or (since this was during the great depression) they just couldn't afford to buy soap.
So housewives made their own soap. First, the soap was made outside the house because it was absolutely the worse smelling stuff ever created.in God's world. You couldn't live in a house where soap had been made. Therefore, my Mom made soap outdoors in our back yard. I noticed that all the farm animals fled to the opposite side of our farm when soap was being made.
During the year, Mom had collected all the fats or grease or lard used to fry meats. After the cooking was completed, she would pour this fat into tin cans and save it in one of the sheds located out side of the house. On soap making day, my Mom used a large cast iron kettle to make the soap. This kettle was used only one time a year. She would build a fire in our back yard as far away from the house as possible. The kettle was placed onto the fire and only three ingredients were poured into the kettle. These three ingredients were fat, water and 100% Lye. The Lye had to be purchased from a grocery store. After some time and after the mixture was tested in certain ways that only mothers knew, the mixture was poured onto a flat, galvanized pan. This mixture was then allowed to harden for several hours or even overnight. The soap was then cut into the proper size pieces.
This home-made soap was used for all cleaning projects such as Saturday night baths, mopping floors, washing dirty clothes and dishes and washing hands before each meal. I tell you this soap could remove the worst dirt, not to mention human skin.
Some more GROANERS found in recently discovered ancient scriptures.
What did Noah say as he was loading the Ark? "Now I herd everything."
Why did the people on the ark think the horses were pessimistic? "They kept saying neigh."
What animal could Noah not trust? "The Cheetah".
Why couldn't they play cards on the ark? Noah was sitting on the deck."
Was Noah the first one out of the Ark? "No, he came fourth out of the ark."
Where did Noah keep the bees? "In the ark hives."
Why couldn't Noah catch many fish? "He only had two worms."
Where was Noah when the lights went out? "In d'ark."
So housewives made their own soap. First, the soap was made outside the house because it was absolutely the worse smelling stuff ever created.in God's world. You couldn't live in a house where soap had been made. Therefore, my Mom made soap outdoors in our back yard. I noticed that all the farm animals fled to the opposite side of our farm when soap was being made.
During the year, Mom had collected all the fats or grease or lard used to fry meats. After the cooking was completed, she would pour this fat into tin cans and save it in one of the sheds located out side of the house. On soap making day, my Mom used a large cast iron kettle to make the soap. This kettle was used only one time a year. She would build a fire in our back yard as far away from the house as possible. The kettle was placed onto the fire and only three ingredients were poured into the kettle. These three ingredients were fat, water and 100% Lye. The Lye had to be purchased from a grocery store. After some time and after the mixture was tested in certain ways that only mothers knew, the mixture was poured onto a flat, galvanized pan. This mixture was then allowed to harden for several hours or even overnight. The soap was then cut into the proper size pieces.
This home-made soap was used for all cleaning projects such as Saturday night baths, mopping floors, washing dirty clothes and dishes and washing hands before each meal. I tell you this soap could remove the worst dirt, not to mention human skin.
Some more GROANERS found in recently discovered ancient scriptures.
What did Noah say as he was loading the Ark? "Now I herd everything."
Why did the people on the ark think the horses were pessimistic? "They kept saying neigh."
What animal could Noah not trust? "The Cheetah".
Why couldn't they play cards on the ark? Noah was sitting on the deck."
Was Noah the first one out of the Ark? "No, he came fourth out of the ark."
Where did Noah keep the bees? "In the ark hives."
Why couldn't Noah catch many fish? "He only had two worms."
Where was Noah when the lights went out? "In d'ark."
Friday, April 26, 2013
Origin of new Chicks
At one time during the history of farming, little chicks were created the old fashioned way. In early spring, farmers simply turned a Rooster loose among the hens. The Rooster was delighted to do his thing. After most of the hens had been fertilized, the farmer killed and ate the rooster. The hen would lay her eggs in a straw nest and then sit on the eggs until they started to hatch. By sitting on the eggs, the hen maintained the proper temperature for the development of the chick. The hen would also roll the eggs over on a regular basis so the temperature was uniform throughout the egg. This method of getting chicks was not very efficient. Sometimes the hen would just get tired of sitting on her nest twenty-four hours a day and would simply abandon the whole project. Even if she completed the job, the percentage of eggs that hatched was disappointing.
During the 1930's, chicken hatcheries began operating. The hens still had to be fertilized by a Rooster, but this was more of a mass-production type of fertilization. The Rooster was not personally involved. This, of course, took all of the fun out of personal fertilization by the Rooster, but chicken hatcheries were far more efficient. In a chicken hatchery, the eggs from fertilized Chickens are gathered, kept warm, and moved and sorted almost continuously from the time they are layed. Eventually they reach a point along the production line where the chicks begin to peck their way out of the shell. When this pecking is completed they are shipped all over the United States via U.S. parcel post.
You knew the chicks had arrived at a local post office because you could hear the cheeping of those cute little chicks all over town.. When I heard that the chicks had arrived, I hurried to the post office so I could see the chicks before the farmers arrived and transferred their chicks to their farms. There was usually a kind post office employ who would remove the top of a box so I could observe those cute little chicks.
Coincidentally, the roosters didn't take the loss (of their roll in creating new chicks) lying down. I understand they formed a national organization and asked the ACLU for assistance in returning to the original fertilization method. The ACLU refused and stated they were not interested in the birth of chicks. They were far too busy defending the rights of humans to murder their babies. The Rooster then submitted their case to the Federal Advisory Council on Historic Preservation. The Roosters maintained that their personal involvement in the fertilization process was historic. In fact, they argued that this procedure of fertilization began at the time of Adam and Eve and any change in this tradition would adversely effect their religious heritage. This was a mistake on the part of the Roosters. The Advisory Council stated they couldn't support any one who believed the Adam and Eve story.
The Roosters then approached the Republican National Committee , thinking perhaps they would support their cause. The Republicans stated it was a good cause, but asked what the costs would be and how would it affect unemployment. They wanted the Roosters to submit an itemized analysis of costs and benefits, projected over a 25 year period. Since the Roosters did not have an accountant or politician in their flock, they were forced to cancel their request.
The Progressives, ( the political party of the little people) sided with the Roosters.but mentioned that they did not believe that any sensible person would believe in the Adam & Eve story. They maintained the creation of chicks occurred during the Big Bang and therefore would not help the Roosters.
The president was also involved in this discussion and stated that this procedure was absolutely unfair. Since we must be fair to Roosters, he issued an executive order to the Department of Agriculture to publish a document making it mandatory to create chicks the old fashioned way. The Department of Agriculture asked the Senate for assistance in writing this document. The Senate turned the project over to their legal department (consisting of 750 attorney's none of whom knew what a Rooster looked like). At last count, the Department of Agriculture document was now 7,250 pages long and still growing. Upon examination of the proposed document, it was found to include 232 bills that had nothing to do with Roosters, but would have cost the taxpayer 1.5 trillion if left in the Rooster bill.
The Roosters are growing impatient and are now proceeding to appeal to the Supreme Court for justice. The Supreme court issued an preliminary ruling that a circuit court must first consider this problem.
The State Department became involved in this project and said that all new chicks should be obtained from Afghanistan They ordered that a gift of 7.7 billion dollars be sent to Afghanistan to help them start raising chicks. They said this gift would improve our relationship with the down trodden countries of the world. This refers, of course, to all the countries who are busy training men to sneak into our country and destroy everyone and everything including the Roosters.
If after reading this blog you may get a vague impression that I don't have much faith in our Federal Government; you are absolutely right.
Lots of luck to the Roosters.
During the 1930's, chicken hatcheries began operating. The hens still had to be fertilized by a Rooster, but this was more of a mass-production type of fertilization. The Rooster was not personally involved. This, of course, took all of the fun out of personal fertilization by the Rooster, but chicken hatcheries were far more efficient. In a chicken hatchery, the eggs from fertilized Chickens are gathered, kept warm, and moved and sorted almost continuously from the time they are layed. Eventually they reach a point along the production line where the chicks begin to peck their way out of the shell. When this pecking is completed they are shipped all over the United States via U.S. parcel post.
You knew the chicks had arrived at a local post office because you could hear the cheeping of those cute little chicks all over town.. When I heard that the chicks had arrived, I hurried to the post office so I could see the chicks before the farmers arrived and transferred their chicks to their farms. There was usually a kind post office employ who would remove the top of a box so I could observe those cute little chicks.
Coincidentally, the roosters didn't take the loss (of their roll in creating new chicks) lying down. I understand they formed a national organization and asked the ACLU for assistance in returning to the original fertilization method. The ACLU refused and stated they were not interested in the birth of chicks. They were far too busy defending the rights of humans to murder their babies. The Rooster then submitted their case to the Federal Advisory Council on Historic Preservation. The Roosters maintained that their personal involvement in the fertilization process was historic. In fact, they argued that this procedure of fertilization began at the time of Adam and Eve and any change in this tradition would adversely effect their religious heritage. This was a mistake on the part of the Roosters. The Advisory Council stated they couldn't support any one who believed the Adam and Eve story.
The Roosters then approached the Republican National Committee , thinking perhaps they would support their cause. The Republicans stated it was a good cause, but asked what the costs would be and how would it affect unemployment. They wanted the Roosters to submit an itemized analysis of costs and benefits, projected over a 25 year period. Since the Roosters did not have an accountant or politician in their flock, they were forced to cancel their request.
The Progressives, ( the political party of the little people) sided with the Roosters.but mentioned that they did not believe that any sensible person would believe in the Adam & Eve story. They maintained the creation of chicks occurred during the Big Bang and therefore would not help the Roosters.
The president was also involved in this discussion and stated that this procedure was absolutely unfair. Since we must be fair to Roosters, he issued an executive order to the Department of Agriculture to publish a document making it mandatory to create chicks the old fashioned way. The Department of Agriculture asked the Senate for assistance in writing this document. The Senate turned the project over to their legal department (consisting of 750 attorney's none of whom knew what a Rooster looked like). At last count, the Department of Agriculture document was now 7,250 pages long and still growing. Upon examination of the proposed document, it was found to include 232 bills that had nothing to do with Roosters, but would have cost the taxpayer 1.5 trillion if left in the Rooster bill.
The Roosters are growing impatient and are now proceeding to appeal to the Supreme Court for justice. The Supreme court issued an preliminary ruling that a circuit court must first consider this problem.
The State Department became involved in this project and said that all new chicks should be obtained from Afghanistan They ordered that a gift of 7.7 billion dollars be sent to Afghanistan to help them start raising chicks. They said this gift would improve our relationship with the down trodden countries of the world. This refers, of course, to all the countries who are busy training men to sneak into our country and destroy everyone and everything including the Roosters.
If after reading this blog you may get a vague impression that I don't have much faith in our Federal Government; you are absolutely right.
Lots of luck to the Roosters.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
More memories of first grade
Age 6
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Stringham. I remember learning to read from Dick and Jane books. See Jane, see Dick, see Spot. See Jane run, see Dick run, see Spot run. Eventually Dick and Jane did more things than just run and we learned new words. We learned by repetition and memorization.
I remember once we were told to read from a new book while sitting at our desks. Mrs. Stringham said that if we came to a word we didn't know to raise our hand and she would come and explain the word. I came to a word I didn't know but I didn't want to ask the teacher so, I just skipped over the word. That's like not wanting to ask for directions when you're lost. It's a man thing. Anyway, I finally realized that I hadn't raised my hand yet and maybe I had better do this or the teacher would become suspicious. So when I came to the next word I didn't know, up went my hand. The teacher looked at the word and then pointed out that I had already read that word eight times on that very page. "How come you suddenly forgot that word?" she asked. I was so embarrassed, and then I made an even more dumb comment which was:
"I have a very short memory."
Grandpa's wisdom: Later in life I determined that I was not the only person who had said dumb things
President Calvin Coolidge: "When more and more people are thrown out of work unemployment results.
Marion Barry, Washington, D.C., mayor: "Outside of the killings, we have one of the lowest crime rates."
President George Bush: "I have opinions of my own, strong opinions, but I don't always agree with them."
Chicago mayor Richard Daley: "Get this thing straight once and for all. The policeman isn't there to create disorder. The policeman is there to preserve disorder."
And the dumbest of all:
Nancy Pelosi, giving instructions to the U.S. House of Representatives: "We have to pass the bill in order to know what's in the bill."
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Stringham. I remember learning to read from Dick and Jane books. See Jane, see Dick, see Spot. See Jane run, see Dick run, see Spot run. Eventually Dick and Jane did more things than just run and we learned new words. We learned by repetition and memorization.
I remember once we were told to read from a new book while sitting at our desks. Mrs. Stringham said that if we came to a word we didn't know to raise our hand and she would come and explain the word. I came to a word I didn't know but I didn't want to ask the teacher so, I just skipped over the word. That's like not wanting to ask for directions when you're lost. It's a man thing. Anyway, I finally realized that I hadn't raised my hand yet and maybe I had better do this or the teacher would become suspicious. So when I came to the next word I didn't know, up went my hand. The teacher looked at the word and then pointed out that I had already read that word eight times on that very page. "How come you suddenly forgot that word?" she asked. I was so embarrassed, and then I made an even more dumb comment which was:
"I have a very short memory."
Grandpa's wisdom: Later in life I determined that I was not the only person who had said dumb things
President Calvin Coolidge: "When more and more people are thrown out of work unemployment results.
Marion Barry, Washington, D.C., mayor: "Outside of the killings, we have one of the lowest crime rates."
President George Bush: "I have opinions of my own, strong opinions, but I don't always agree with them."
Chicago mayor Richard Daley: "Get this thing straight once and for all. The policeman isn't there to create disorder. The policeman is there to preserve disorder."
And the dumbest of all:
Nancy Pelosi, giving instructions to the U.S. House of Representatives: "We have to pass the bill in order to know what's in the bill."
Monday, April 22, 2013
The straw stack
As an introduction to the straw stack story, I need to describe the harvesting of wheat. My father had about a four acre field of wheat. Years ago, when a field of wheat had rippened, it was cut by men and women manually cutting it with scythes. The wheat was then manually bundled and tied. The bundles were then stood upright so that wheat could dry properly. Later these bundles were manually carried to a point where the wheat was seperated from the stalks. This was usually done by placing the wheat on some kind of screen and then walking on the wheat bundles. The wheat would fall through the screen and was then bagged and the dry stalks had become straw to be used around the farm.
By the time I arrived on the scene, the wheat was cut by a mowing maching powered by a team of horses. Later an atachment to the mowing machine was developed that automatically bundled and tied the wheat.. These bundles were manually stood upright and eventually transported to a threshing machine that seperated the wheat from the stalks.
The threshing machine was an enormous machine powered by a long leather belt that stretched from the tractor to the threshing machine. The bundles of wheat were fed into one end of the machine where huge knife like fingers grabbed the bundles and seperated the wheat from the stalks. The wheat was than forced through a spout where it was dumped into burrlap bags and later hauled to a granary for storage. The stalks (which had become straw) was blown through a long spout into what soon became a stack of straw. This whole operation was extremely noisey. It was very exciting for a six year old boy to stand and watch the threshing operation.
I was six years old at the time of this story. The new straw stack was located just a few feet from the chicken house. I remember thinking what a thrill it would be to run down the roof of the chicken house and jump into the new straw stack. Dad must have read my mind because the last thing he said that morning as he left for work was: "Glen, I don't want you to play in that new straw. I need it for other things."
Talk about temptation. I was able to resist the temptation until about noon. But then the thought came into my mind that one little jump could not do any harm. I climbed to the highest point on the roof of the chicken house, turned and ran down the roof and leaped into the straw. It was glorious. It was too much fun to stop at just one jump so I did the same thing again. Unfortunately, some of my friends saw me having so much fun and decided to join me. Within minutes every young boy in the neighborhood was running down the roof and jumping into the straw. We did straight jumps, belly whoppers and sumersaults. Withing minutes that straw stack was completely flattened. When Dad came home that night the straw stack had disappeared.
I'm not going to bore you with an account of what happened when my father came home that night. Needless so say, it was not pleasant. However, the most unpleasant thing was the lecture I received and the subsequent knowledge I had that my father was totally displeased with me. I certainly was a slow learner. But I may be learning that there are consequences for completely ignoring your father.
By the time I arrived on the scene, the wheat was cut by a mowing maching powered by a team of horses. Later an atachment to the mowing machine was developed that automatically bundled and tied the wheat.. These bundles were manually stood upright and eventually transported to a threshing machine that seperated the wheat from the stalks.
The threshing machine was an enormous machine powered by a long leather belt that stretched from the tractor to the threshing machine. The bundles of wheat were fed into one end of the machine where huge knife like fingers grabbed the bundles and seperated the wheat from the stalks. The wheat was than forced through a spout where it was dumped into burrlap bags and later hauled to a granary for storage. The stalks (which had become straw) was blown through a long spout into what soon became a stack of straw. This whole operation was extremely noisey. It was very exciting for a six year old boy to stand and watch the threshing operation.
I was six years old at the time of this story. The new straw stack was located just a few feet from the chicken house. I remember thinking what a thrill it would be to run down the roof of the chicken house and jump into the new straw stack. Dad must have read my mind because the last thing he said that morning as he left for work was: "Glen, I don't want you to play in that new straw. I need it for other things."
Talk about temptation. I was able to resist the temptation until about noon. But then the thought came into my mind that one little jump could not do any harm. I climbed to the highest point on the roof of the chicken house, turned and ran down the roof and leaped into the straw. It was glorious. It was too much fun to stop at just one jump so I did the same thing again. Unfortunately, some of my friends saw me having so much fun and decided to join me. Within minutes every young boy in the neighborhood was running down the roof and jumping into the straw. We did straight jumps, belly whoppers and sumersaults. Withing minutes that straw stack was completely flattened. When Dad came home that night the straw stack had disappeared.
I'm not going to bore you with an account of what happened when my father came home that night. Needless so say, it was not pleasant. However, the most unpleasant thing was the lecture I received and the subsequent knowledge I had that my father was totally displeased with me. I certainly was a slow learner. But I may be learning that there are consequences for completely ignoring your father.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Final, NYC or Bust #8
We were successful in gaining entrance into Canada and continued our journey through Canada to Detroit, Michigan. The trip through Canada was uneventful except that we got terribly lost. We started out from Niagara Falls on a four lane highway. Before long we were traveling on a two land highway. A few miles further the road had turned into a graveled surface road. And a few miles beyond that we were traveling on a dirt road that ended at a cow pasture. We sat for a few minutes and watched a farmer milking his cow. That was the extent of our Canada adventure.
It didn't take an engineering degree for us to realize we were lost. Two members of our crew had driven since we left Niagara. So the third party proceeded to relate how utterly stupid the two drivers were. The drivers responded by pointing out that the third member was the designated navigator and it was obvious that he had failed to perform this assignment satisfactorily. It appears that the three participants in this great adventure were getting extremely tired of each other.
We back tracked to the four-land highway and this time we were successful in reaching and re-entering the USA. at Detroit, Michigan. Hurray!
During our travel across Michigan, we experienced our only traffic accident. We were traveling on a two lane highway (one lane each way) that had a very deep gutter on each side of the road. Occasionally an exit bridge had been built by filling in the gutter with dirt that allowed a driver to exit into his farm. Jack was driving and was following an old, slow moving, truck. He finally reached a straight stretch of road with no oncoming traffic and attempted to pass the truck. Just as we moved along side of the truck, the driver came to an exit bridge that led to his farm house. Without signaling (according to Jack) the driver turned left onto the dirt bridge. Jack's only options were to hit the truck broadside or crash down into the very deep gutter or turn left and try to squeeze onto the exit bridge along side the truck. Jack chose the latter option. Unfortunately, because of the narrowness of the exit bridge, the two vehicles collided. It didn't cause any damage to the truck but it did put a deep dent into the passenger-side front door.
The truck driver insisted that he had signaled and the collision was our fault and he was not responsible for any damage that occurred to our car. Hey, we were happy to have survived and left there as quickly as possible. Besides, the dent in the door seemed to fit in nicely with the over all appearance of the car. Later in the day we tried to roll up the window and discovered that there was no longer a window. The collision had shattered the window and it was now small pieces inside the door.
After this experience, we all wanted to get home as quickly as possible. We decided to drive twenty-four hours a day and stop only for gas and hamburgers. If we all became exhausted and needed sleep at the same time, we would simply sleep at the side of the road. We had been on the road fifteen days and thoroughly detested each other and the car. We spent the last twenty-four hours in an intense argument whether the Vernal Bank or the Uintah State Bank was the best. Not one of us a penny in either bank. We were just sick of each other and needed something to argue about.
We arrived back home after sixteen days on the road. After a good nights rest we recovered from our exhaustion and were able to tell anyone who would listen all about out marvelous adventures. By far, the 1930, model A, Ford sedan suffered the most from this trip. It returned with a broken starter and would not start unless it was pushed, a missing hood over the engine, a dent in the passenger-side door, a shattered window inside the door and the sign "New York or Bust" painted on both sides and the rear of the car.
I had left home with $100.00. I returned home sixteen days later with $67.00. You can see that I was not afraid to spend money to have a good time.
Granpa's humor?
Today's groaner: There was a man who entered a local newspaper's pun contest. He sent in ten different puns, in the hope that at least one of the puns would win. Unfortunately, no pun in ten did.
Church bulletin -- Miss Charlene Mason sang, "I Will Not Pass This Way Again", giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
Truth's I have learned during this life: Raising teenagers is like nailing Jell-o to a tree.
Genealogy truths: Genealogists live in the past lane.
Another groaner: A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel, and met in the lobby where they were discussing their recent victories in chess tournaments. The hotel manager came out of the office after an hour, and asked them to disperse. He couldn't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
It didn't take an engineering degree for us to realize we were lost. Two members of our crew had driven since we left Niagara. So the third party proceeded to relate how utterly stupid the two drivers were. The drivers responded by pointing out that the third member was the designated navigator and it was obvious that he had failed to perform this assignment satisfactorily. It appears that the three participants in this great adventure were getting extremely tired of each other.
We back tracked to the four-land highway and this time we were successful in reaching and re-entering the USA. at Detroit, Michigan. Hurray!
During our travel across Michigan, we experienced our only traffic accident. We were traveling on a two lane highway (one lane each way) that had a very deep gutter on each side of the road. Occasionally an exit bridge had been built by filling in the gutter with dirt that allowed a driver to exit into his farm. Jack was driving and was following an old, slow moving, truck. He finally reached a straight stretch of road with no oncoming traffic and attempted to pass the truck. Just as we moved along side of the truck, the driver came to an exit bridge that led to his farm house. Without signaling (according to Jack) the driver turned left onto the dirt bridge. Jack's only options were to hit the truck broadside or crash down into the very deep gutter or turn left and try to squeeze onto the exit bridge along side the truck. Jack chose the latter option. Unfortunately, because of the narrowness of the exit bridge, the two vehicles collided. It didn't cause any damage to the truck but it did put a deep dent into the passenger-side front door.
The truck driver insisted that he had signaled and the collision was our fault and he was not responsible for any damage that occurred to our car. Hey, we were happy to have survived and left there as quickly as possible. Besides, the dent in the door seemed to fit in nicely with the over all appearance of the car. Later in the day we tried to roll up the window and discovered that there was no longer a window. The collision had shattered the window and it was now small pieces inside the door.
After this experience, we all wanted to get home as quickly as possible. We decided to drive twenty-four hours a day and stop only for gas and hamburgers. If we all became exhausted and needed sleep at the same time, we would simply sleep at the side of the road. We had been on the road fifteen days and thoroughly detested each other and the car. We spent the last twenty-four hours in an intense argument whether the Vernal Bank or the Uintah State Bank was the best. Not one of us a penny in either bank. We were just sick of each other and needed something to argue about.
We arrived back home after sixteen days on the road. After a good nights rest we recovered from our exhaustion and were able to tell anyone who would listen all about out marvelous adventures. By far, the 1930, model A, Ford sedan suffered the most from this trip. It returned with a broken starter and would not start unless it was pushed, a missing hood over the engine, a dent in the passenger-side door, a shattered window inside the door and the sign "New York or Bust" painted on both sides and the rear of the car.
I had left home with $100.00. I returned home sixteen days later with $67.00. You can see that I was not afraid to spend money to have a good time.
Granpa's humor?
Today's groaner: There was a man who entered a local newspaper's pun contest. He sent in ten different puns, in the hope that at least one of the puns would win. Unfortunately, no pun in ten did.
Church bulletin -- Miss Charlene Mason sang, "I Will Not Pass This Way Again", giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
Truth's I have learned during this life: Raising teenagers is like nailing Jell-o to a tree.
Genealogy truths: Genealogists live in the past lane.
Another groaner: A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel, and met in the lobby where they were discussing their recent victories in chess tournaments. The hotel manager came out of the office after an hour, and asked them to disperse. He couldn't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Candy, the source of all evil
I'm a slow learner. When I was five years old, I confiscated some choice candy my mother had prepared for members of her club. I was caught and disciplined. When I was six years old, I spent my weekly "hot lunch" money on candy. I was caught and disciplined. When I was eight years old, I was tempted once again to eat some candy that did not belong to me.
When my sister "Buffie" was a senior in high school her best friend was a girl named Bonnie Miller. Bonnie's father worked for the Federal Government and during Bonnie's senior year in high school he was transferred to another location. Bonnie wanted to finish her senior year of high school in Vernal. So an arrangement was made for her to room with my sister in our home
I remember two things about Bonnie; She always bought every comic book that was published and she always had candy in her room. One of my favorite things to do was to catch up on the latest issue of a "Superman comic book" and sample a piece of her candy. One day my gluttony over came my better judgement. Bonnie had bought a new one pound box of chocolates and had only eaten a few pieces. I sampled one piece and it was so delicious I sampled another piece. By the end of the day I had eaten every chocolate in that box. When the girls came home from school they went immediately to the chocolate box and found it was empty. I, of course, was the prime suspect. They didn't even question mother who was also in the house during the time the crime occurred.
"Glen, did you eat all those chocolates?" "Of course not," I replied. "Well who did?" "I don't know". "Did mother eat the chocolates?" I don't know." "Did your friends eat the chocolates?" "I don't know. By this time in the cross examination, I was gaining confidence that I may get out of this situation without being killed. But Buffie out maneuvered me. She took me aside and explained that they really didn't care if I had eaten the whole pound of chocolates; they just wanted to know who had. Based on this statement, I confessed. "Yes, I ate the stupid chocolates"
For the first time in my life I was physically abused by my sister who immediately beat me about my head and shoulders. Not only that but she told mother what I had done. Mother gave me a vicious tongue lashing and I was told to never, never go into that bedroom again. Based on the beating my sister had given me, I became a believer. I am embarassed and have regrets for taking things that didn't belong to me. I can't remember ever again eating candy that didn't belong to me. Whoops, with one exception. I used to steal candy bars from Joan's mother who was living with us at the time.
So, if you ever have a down rite untrustworthy eight-year old boy, just turn an 18 year old sister loose to interigate and beat him about the head and shoulders. That will cause immediate repentance.
Grandpa's wisdom:
I've been married almost sixty-two years and I've learned a little about good marriage relationships. Let me emphasize the importance of understanding a woman's meaning of certain words. For example:
Five Minutes - If your wife is getting dressed, this means one half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
Nothing - When you ask your wife what is troubling her and she says nothing, this is the calm before the storm. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in your sleeping on the couch.
Don't worry about it, I got it - Another dangerous statement meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong" and almost always causes her to say "nothing".
Whatever - Is a woman's way of saying . . . Go to Hell.
When my sister "Buffie" was a senior in high school her best friend was a girl named Bonnie Miller. Bonnie's father worked for the Federal Government and during Bonnie's senior year in high school he was transferred to another location. Bonnie wanted to finish her senior year of high school in Vernal. So an arrangement was made for her to room with my sister in our home
I remember two things about Bonnie; She always bought every comic book that was published and she always had candy in her room. One of my favorite things to do was to catch up on the latest issue of a "Superman comic book" and sample a piece of her candy. One day my gluttony over came my better judgement. Bonnie had bought a new one pound box of chocolates and had only eaten a few pieces. I sampled one piece and it was so delicious I sampled another piece. By the end of the day I had eaten every chocolate in that box. When the girls came home from school they went immediately to the chocolate box and found it was empty. I, of course, was the prime suspect. They didn't even question mother who was also in the house during the time the crime occurred.
"Glen, did you eat all those chocolates?" "Of course not," I replied. "Well who did?" "I don't know". "Did mother eat the chocolates?" I don't know." "Did your friends eat the chocolates?" "I don't know. By this time in the cross examination, I was gaining confidence that I may get out of this situation without being killed. But Buffie out maneuvered me. She took me aside and explained that they really didn't care if I had eaten the whole pound of chocolates; they just wanted to know who had. Based on this statement, I confessed. "Yes, I ate the stupid chocolates"
For the first time in my life I was physically abused by my sister who immediately beat me about my head and shoulders. Not only that but she told mother what I had done. Mother gave me a vicious tongue lashing and I was told to never, never go into that bedroom again. Based on the beating my sister had given me, I became a believer. I am embarassed and have regrets for taking things that didn't belong to me. I can't remember ever again eating candy that didn't belong to me. Whoops, with one exception. I used to steal candy bars from Joan's mother who was living with us at the time.
So, if you ever have a down rite untrustworthy eight-year old boy, just turn an 18 year old sister loose to interigate and beat him about the head and shoulders. That will cause immediate repentance.
Grandpa's wisdom:
I've been married almost sixty-two years and I've learned a little about good marriage relationships. Let me emphasize the importance of understanding a woman's meaning of certain words. For example:
Five Minutes - If your wife is getting dressed, this means one half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
Nothing - When you ask your wife what is troubling her and she says nothing, this is the calm before the storm. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in your sleeping on the couch.
Don't worry about it, I got it - Another dangerous statement meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong" and almost always causes her to say "nothing".
Whatever - Is a woman's way of saying . . . Go to Hell.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Home or Bust #7
We left NYC late in the afternoon. Our next destination was Boston. But almost simultaneously we looked at each other and announced that we were ready to go home. Home Sweet Home. So we traveled as far north as Albany and then turned west. We didn't stop in Albany and decided to keep driving until later in the evening and then just sleep at some rest area along the way.
We were on a two lane highway (two lanes each way) and were making good time. Dick was driving and Jack and I were trying to sleep. Dick sighted a watermelon laying in the inside lane. He assumed the melon had fallen off a truck and for some reason it had not shattered. "Well, Dick thought, "I"ll remedy that." He swerved out of our lane and hit the watermelon dead center with the front wheel.
The trouble was, it was not a watermelon. It was a skunk. A real live skunk. I can't start to explain how powerful the stink of a real live skunk is, that has just been run over by a moron. Jack and I could easily have killed Dick at that moment. Our eyes watered and our nose hurt and we all felt nauseated. We rolled all of the windows down and sped up as fast as the car would go. But.it was several hours before that smell started to abate. We finally stopped for some rest but didn't sleep too well because even the sleeping bags smelled like a skunk.
Niagara Falls
Our next stop was a visit to Niagara Falls. The Falls were indeed inspiring. We rented rain jackets and went on a tour and were rained on by the mist created by the Falls. We enjoyed this stop.
Into Canada
At this point, we decided to tour through Canada. We could enter Canada at Niagara Falls and exit back into the U.S. at Detroit. We could then brag that we had visited the most import part of the U. S. and in addition toured Canada. As we approached the immigration entrance gate, we were stopped by an inspector who asked to see our immigration permit. When we informed him that we did not have such a permit. he replied, "No problem. Just park your car and go into the Immigration Headquarters and obtain a permit.".
As we walked toward the inspection counter, a very embarrassing thing happened. Dick was obviously watching a beautiful teen-age girl walk by and as a consequence, walked head-first into a steel post. Now I've seen steel posts before and if you walk into them with your head you cause a very mild "Klunk." Not this steel post. It sounded just like the bell at the top of "Saint Mary's Cathedral." Everyone in the area stopped and starred at Dick. This included the "Inspector General of Immigration Permits". He immediately classified us as three trouble makers. When we approached him he gruffly said, "May I see the title to your vehicle. We replied, "We don't have a title but we do an a registration certificate". "That won't do" he said.. "If you don't have a title then get me the motor number. So off we go to obtain this number. We searched thoroughly, top and bottom and sideways. There was no number. When we returned to the inspector, he said, "Look boys, I've got to have a number before I can issue your entrance permit. Go find me a body number." The results of this search was the same. There was no body number on that car.
At this point I believe the inspector suspected that we were teen-age car thief's who were trying to enter Canada with a stolen Cadillac. He said, "I'll have to personally inspect your vehicle. Lead the way." When we were close to our car, the inspector stopped and said, "Is that your car?" We replied, "Yes." The inspector rolled his eyes and said, "Good Grief! "Give me your girl-friend's telephone number and get the Hell out of here." We promptly obliged.
Grandpa's Wisdom:
I've been thinking about what a status symbol cell phones are. Everyone has one clipped onto his belt. Personally, I can't learn how to operate one. So, I'm just wearing my garage door opener.
You know, over the years I've spent a fortune on deodorant. I finally realized that people didn't like me anyway.
The doctor says I have the dreaded furniture disease. That's when your chest is falling into your drawers!
That was the same doctor that said I was in the snapdragon period of my life. Half of me has snapped and the rest is dragon.
We were on a two lane highway (two lanes each way) and were making good time. Dick was driving and Jack and I were trying to sleep. Dick sighted a watermelon laying in the inside lane. He assumed the melon had fallen off a truck and for some reason it had not shattered. "Well, Dick thought, "I"ll remedy that." He swerved out of our lane and hit the watermelon dead center with the front wheel.
The trouble was, it was not a watermelon. It was a skunk. A real live skunk. I can't start to explain how powerful the stink of a real live skunk is, that has just been run over by a moron. Jack and I could easily have killed Dick at that moment. Our eyes watered and our nose hurt and we all felt nauseated. We rolled all of the windows down and sped up as fast as the car would go. But.it was several hours before that smell started to abate. We finally stopped for some rest but didn't sleep too well because even the sleeping bags smelled like a skunk.
Niagara Falls
Our next stop was a visit to Niagara Falls. The Falls were indeed inspiring. We rented rain jackets and went on a tour and were rained on by the mist created by the Falls. We enjoyed this stop.
Into Canada
At this point, we decided to tour through Canada. We could enter Canada at Niagara Falls and exit back into the U.S. at Detroit. We could then brag that we had visited the most import part of the U. S. and in addition toured Canada. As we approached the immigration entrance gate, we were stopped by an inspector who asked to see our immigration permit. When we informed him that we did not have such a permit. he replied, "No problem. Just park your car and go into the Immigration Headquarters and obtain a permit.".
As we walked toward the inspection counter, a very embarrassing thing happened. Dick was obviously watching a beautiful teen-age girl walk by and as a consequence, walked head-first into a steel post. Now I've seen steel posts before and if you walk into them with your head you cause a very mild "Klunk." Not this steel post. It sounded just like the bell at the top of "Saint Mary's Cathedral." Everyone in the area stopped and starred at Dick. This included the "Inspector General of Immigration Permits". He immediately classified us as three trouble makers. When we approached him he gruffly said, "May I see the title to your vehicle. We replied, "We don't have a title but we do an a registration certificate". "That won't do" he said.. "If you don't have a title then get me the motor number. So off we go to obtain this number. We searched thoroughly, top and bottom and sideways. There was no number. When we returned to the inspector, he said, "Look boys, I've got to have a number before I can issue your entrance permit. Go find me a body number." The results of this search was the same. There was no body number on that car.
At this point I believe the inspector suspected that we were teen-age car thief's who were trying to enter Canada with a stolen Cadillac. He said, "I'll have to personally inspect your vehicle. Lead the way." When we were close to our car, the inspector stopped and said, "Is that your car?" We replied, "Yes." The inspector rolled his eyes and said, "Good Grief! "Give me your girl-friend's telephone number and get the Hell out of here." We promptly obliged.
Grandpa's Wisdom:
I've been thinking about what a status symbol cell phones are. Everyone has one clipped onto his belt. Personally, I can't learn how to operate one. So, I'm just wearing my garage door opener.
You know, over the years I've spent a fortune on deodorant. I finally realized that people didn't like me anyway.
The doctor says I have the dreaded furniture disease. That's when your chest is falling into your drawers!
That was the same doctor that said I was in the snapdragon period of my life. Half of me has snapped and the rest is dragon.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
How to pray
Ashley Bartlett was one of the unforgettable people that I have met throughout my life. I first became aware of Ashley when I was fourteen years old. The reason I will always remember him is the unique style of his prayers. When Ashley was called upon to offer a prayer in church, he would throw his head back, gaze into heaven, and raise his arms and hands high into the air. All the teenagers thought this was cool. When I left for college, I never saw Ashley or heard his prayers again.
Some fifty years later I was playing golf in an old man's league in Orem, Utah. As we played our golf match we became acquainted with each other. One of the men said he had recently moved from San Bernardino, California. When I mentioned that I had been born and raised in Vernal, Utah, he stated that he knew a man in San Bernardino who was the Stake Patriarch and had also come from Vernal. His name was Ashley Bartlett. I asked if there was anything unusual about the manner in which Ashley prayed. He replied, "Good heavens yes. He throws his head back and raised his arms high in the air." I thought: Ashley is "still cool."
Whenever I think of Ashley Bartlett, I think of this poem I came across in later years:
The Prayer of Cyrus Brown
By: Sam Walter Foss
"The proper way for a man to pray,"
said Deacon Lemuel Keys,
"And the only proper attitude,
is down upon his knees."
No, I should say the way to Pray,"
said Reverend Dr. Wise,
"Is standing straight with outstrtetched arms
and rapt and upturned eyes."
"Oh, no, no, no," said Elder Snow
"Such posture is too proud.
A man should pray with eyes fast closed
And head contritely bowed."
"It seems to me his hands should be
austerely clasped in front.
With both thumbs pointed toward the ground,"
Said reverend Dr. Hunt.
"Last year I fell in hodgkin's well.
Head first," said Cyrus Brown.
"With both my heels a-sticking up,
my head a-pointin' down."
"And I made a prayer right then and there;
best prayer I ever said . . .
The prayin'est prayer I ever prayed,
a-standin' on my head."
Grandpa's humor:
You are a lousy Cook if - - -
Anyone has ever broken a tooth eating your homemade yogurt.
Your kids' favorite drink is Alka-Seltzer.
Your kids got even with the neighborhood bully by inviting him over for dinner.
Your husband refers to the smoke detector as the oven timer.
No matter what you do to it, the gravy still turns bright purple.
Some fifty years later I was playing golf in an old man's league in Orem, Utah. As we played our golf match we became acquainted with each other. One of the men said he had recently moved from San Bernardino, California. When I mentioned that I had been born and raised in Vernal, Utah, he stated that he knew a man in San Bernardino who was the Stake Patriarch and had also come from Vernal. His name was Ashley Bartlett. I asked if there was anything unusual about the manner in which Ashley prayed. He replied, "Good heavens yes. He throws his head back and raised his arms high in the air." I thought: Ashley is "still cool."
Whenever I think of Ashley Bartlett, I think of this poem I came across in later years:
The Prayer of Cyrus Brown
By: Sam Walter Foss
"The proper way for a man to pray,"
said Deacon Lemuel Keys,
"And the only proper attitude,
is down upon his knees."
No, I should say the way to Pray,"
said Reverend Dr. Wise,
"Is standing straight with outstrtetched arms
and rapt and upturned eyes."
"Oh, no, no, no," said Elder Snow
"Such posture is too proud.
A man should pray with eyes fast closed
And head contritely bowed."
"It seems to me his hands should be
austerely clasped in front.
With both thumbs pointed toward the ground,"
Said reverend Dr. Hunt.
"Last year I fell in hodgkin's well.
Head first," said Cyrus Brown.
"With both my heels a-sticking up,
my head a-pointin' down."
"And I made a prayer right then and there;
best prayer I ever said . . .
The prayin'est prayer I ever prayed,
a-standin' on my head."
Grandpa's humor:
You are a lousy Cook if - - -
Anyone has ever broken a tooth eating your homemade yogurt.
Your kids' favorite drink is Alka-Seltzer.
Your kids got even with the neighborhood bully by inviting him over for dinner.
Your husband refers to the smoke detector as the oven timer.
No matter what you do to it, the gravy still turns bright purple.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Mother of All Foolishness
If I had to categorize all of the foolish things I did in my youth, this would probably take first place. I was fourteen years old at the time this happened. In order to describe this event, I have to describe the old church building where my parents attended church. They were church-going people and I was pretty much required to attend with them.
The church had the normal arrangement of benches on the ground floor, but did have the unique feature of a mezzanine that was built toward the back end of the building. This mezzanine was accessible by stairs that extended from the back of the general seating area. From this mezzanine were several windows that opened outward. I suppose that the original purpose of the mezzanine was to provide a place for mothers to take and care for fussy babies. Actually, the mezzanine seats were usually occupied by teenagers who wanted to get away from their parents. We told our parents we wanted to sit in the mezzanine because it was closer to Heaven. On this particular Sabbath day my friend and I were successful in getting a chair in this special site."
Outside it was a beautiful spring day. The weather was perfect. Inside, it was hot and the speakers were about as entertaining as a Democratic politician. My friend and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, "We've got to get out here." We couldn't walk down the stairs because our parents would see us. The only other possibility was to climb out the back windows. These windows were about thirty feet above the ground. There was however, an 18 inch ledge at the bottom of the windows that extended both ways to the shingled roof. We stepped out onto the ledge, pushed the windows shut, and very carefully edged our way along the ledge to the roof. We were then able to throw our leg onto the roof.
Now we faced another challenge. We were now about forty feet above the ground and there was no way to climb down. The solution was to walk quietly across the roof to the opposite corner where there was a large tree. If could reach that tree we could then climb down. So off we went up to the apex of the roof and than down to the tree located at the opposite corner of the church.
Wayne and I were puffed up with pride. We had actually escaped from church. But only for a moment. We grabbed hold of a limb and then looked down and there stood the Bishop. He said, "Come on down, boys." He then took us by the hand and led us back into the church building and then right to the front row and sat us down. I was humiliated. My dear mother was mortified.
Later, my mother asked me "What in the world were you thinking?" Did you think no one would hear you?" She said that the preacher had just reached a point in his sermon when he was telling the congregation that they should be aware of spiritual signs. At that point, footsteps could be heard along the rooftop. She reported that "every eye in the church except those who were hard of hearing looked up at the ceiling. Even the hard of hearing eventually looked up to see what the others were looking at. These eyes followed the progress of the footsteps up to the apex of the roof and then down the others side. She said that those steps sounded like a bunch of hippopotamuses." Mother said she began to pray regularly that I may have better judgement in the future.
The church had the normal arrangement of benches on the ground floor, but did have the unique feature of a mezzanine that was built toward the back end of the building. This mezzanine was accessible by stairs that extended from the back of the general seating area. From this mezzanine were several windows that opened outward. I suppose that the original purpose of the mezzanine was to provide a place for mothers to take and care for fussy babies. Actually, the mezzanine seats were usually occupied by teenagers who wanted to get away from their parents. We told our parents we wanted to sit in the mezzanine because it was closer to Heaven. On this particular Sabbath day my friend and I were successful in getting a chair in this special site."
Outside it was a beautiful spring day. The weather was perfect. Inside, it was hot and the speakers were about as entertaining as a Democratic politician. My friend and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, "We've got to get out here." We couldn't walk down the stairs because our parents would see us. The only other possibility was to climb out the back windows. These windows were about thirty feet above the ground. There was however, an 18 inch ledge at the bottom of the windows that extended both ways to the shingled roof. We stepped out onto the ledge, pushed the windows shut, and very carefully edged our way along the ledge to the roof. We were then able to throw our leg onto the roof.
Now we faced another challenge. We were now about forty feet above the ground and there was no way to climb down. The solution was to walk quietly across the roof to the opposite corner where there was a large tree. If could reach that tree we could then climb down. So off we went up to the apex of the roof and than down to the tree located at the opposite corner of the church.
Wayne and I were puffed up with pride. We had actually escaped from church. But only for a moment. We grabbed hold of a limb and then looked down and there stood the Bishop. He said, "Come on down, boys." He then took us by the hand and led us back into the church building and then right to the front row and sat us down. I was humiliated. My dear mother was mortified.
Later, my mother asked me "What in the world were you thinking?" Did you think no one would hear you?" She said that the preacher had just reached a point in his sermon when he was telling the congregation that they should be aware of spiritual signs. At that point, footsteps could be heard along the rooftop. She reported that "every eye in the church except those who were hard of hearing looked up at the ceiling. Even the hard of hearing eventually looked up to see what the others were looking at. These eyes followed the progress of the footsteps up to the apex of the roof and then down the others side. She said that those steps sounded like a bunch of hippopotamuses." Mother said she began to pray regularly that I may have better judgement in the future.
A visit to the sheep camp
December 7, 1941 - I was now eleven years old. Sadly, I was just as foolish as always. Age does not seem to improve my judgment at all. On Sunday, December 7, 1941, my mother and I accompanied my father on his weekly trip to check on his sheep herd and take needed supplies to his sheep herder. His sheep were located on a government lease some twenty miles south-west of Vernal. I remember how cold it was and the icy condition of Highway 40. It had recently snowed and the highway was covered with a sheet of ice.
After lunch mother decided to hike while dad was doing other things. I tagged along with her for awhile but then became involved in climbing a small hill. When I reached the top of the hill I could see mother walking along a dirt road. I watched as she reached Highway 40 and decided to cross the highway. This occurred at a spot where the highway started down into an area known as the "twist". The road twisted around the hills and washes and was quite steep at this point. As mother reached the center of the road her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her back. I could hear a scream and watched as she started to slide down the middle of Highway 40. She picked up speed and was spinning like a top. She had absolutely no control. I was quite impressed. She performed some maneuvers I never dreamed that mothers could do. She must have continued on in this manner for a quarter of mile when she finally slid off the road into a snow bank and was able to stop. I rushed down the hill to congratulate her on a terrific performance. I said I was going to try to duplicate her slide. She strongly informed me that I was not going to be so dumb She told me later that she was terrified because she could picture herself sliding around a corner and meeting a car head on. I gave up on using highway 40 as a slip n' slide.
Notice the above date. This was the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands. Because we were out in the desert with sheep, we knew nothing of this. When we returned home that evening, the neighbors quickly informed us of the attack. I remember my father saying that this war wouldn't last more than three months. Later I teased him about his faulty estimation of the length of wars. It was almost six years until the Japanese surrendered.
Grandpa's wisdom -
Is it common for 80-plus year olds to have problems with short-term memory storage? Storing memory is no problem; Retrieving it is.
How can you avoid that terrible curse of the elderly wrinkles? Take off your glasses.
If Biblical Headlines were written by today's liberal media;
On the birth of Christ: HOTELS FULL, ANIMALS LEFT HOMELESS, Animal rights Activists Enraged by Insensitive Couple.
On feeding the 5000: PREACHER STEALS CHILD'S LUNCH, Disciples Mystified Over Behavior.
After lunch mother decided to hike while dad was doing other things. I tagged along with her for awhile but then became involved in climbing a small hill. When I reached the top of the hill I could see mother walking along a dirt road. I watched as she reached Highway 40 and decided to cross the highway. This occurred at a spot where the highway started down into an area known as the "twist". The road twisted around the hills and washes and was quite steep at this point. As mother reached the center of the road her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her back. I could hear a scream and watched as she started to slide down the middle of Highway 40. She picked up speed and was spinning like a top. She had absolutely no control. I was quite impressed. She performed some maneuvers I never dreamed that mothers could do. She must have continued on in this manner for a quarter of mile when she finally slid off the road into a snow bank and was able to stop. I rushed down the hill to congratulate her on a terrific performance. I said I was going to try to duplicate her slide. She strongly informed me that I was not going to be so dumb She told me later that she was terrified because she could picture herself sliding around a corner and meeting a car head on. I gave up on using highway 40 as a slip n' slide.
Notice the above date. This was the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands. Because we were out in the desert with sheep, we knew nothing of this. When we returned home that evening, the neighbors quickly informed us of the attack. I remember my father saying that this war wouldn't last more than three months. Later I teased him about his faulty estimation of the length of wars. It was almost six years until the Japanese surrendered.
Grandpa's wisdom -
Is it common for 80-plus year olds to have problems with short-term memory storage? Storing memory is no problem; Retrieving it is.
How can you avoid that terrible curse of the elderly wrinkles? Take off your glasses.
If Biblical Headlines were written by today's liberal media;
On the birth of Christ: HOTELS FULL, ANIMALS LEFT HOMELESS, Animal rights Activists Enraged by Insensitive Couple.
On feeding the 5000: PREACHER STEALS CHILD'S LUNCH, Disciples Mystified Over Behavior.
Monday, April 1, 2013
NYC or Bust #6
Well, despite all the problems we faced we have finally reached our goal of New York City. We were quite proud of ourselves. However once again we were soon humbled.
We were traveling through New Jersey and began to see signs pointing to the Holland Tunnel and Manhattan Island. We knew that Manhattan Island was the approximate center of New York City, (after all, we hadn't just fallen off the turnip wagon), and this was our destination. So into the tunnel we went.
Every twenty-five yards or so there was a police office stationed on a platform at the side of the tunnel. Each of the policemen were waving frantically for us to speed up. Good grief, we were going as fast as the car would go and we were still holding up traffic. We shot out of the end of the tunnel and were immediately faced with a major problem. Straight ahead were eight or ten streets leading off in different directions and it was not possible for us to stop and consider which street to follow. We just picked a street and away we went with the flow. We had no idea where we were or where we going. The street led onto a bridge and we followed like sheep. After we crossed the bridge and we were finally able to park, we checked our map and determined we had just crossed over the East River on the Brooklyn Bridge and were now in Brooklyn, NY. We had completely bypassed NYC.. We considered changing our signs on the car to read, "Return to NYC or Bust."
After a short drive, we found we were in Brooklyn, NY, on Flat Bush Avenue on Saturday night.We were in a different world. Even though Brooklyn had traffic lights and sidewalks they didn't use either. Flat Bush Ave. was completely crowded (but not with cars; just with illegal pedestrians). The local residents seemed to think that it was a sin to walk on a sidewalk. If they wanted to cross the street, they didn't wait for the traffic light to change or even search for a cross walk They just stepped out into traffic and dared a car to hit them.
Since there were far more pedestrians than cars, the traffic movement was extremely slow. In most cases, you could move faster by walking than by riding in a car. In some cases a group of people had accumulated into a discussion group and automobile traffic came to a complete stop.
If you can visualize this scene, you can understand why we were the stars of "Saturday Night Live." It seemed that hundreds of pedestrians passed us and most had an unkind comment. Many reminded us that we had lost the hood on our car. Many wanted to know where we had parked our horses. Most wanted to know where Utah was. Most of the comments were not printable in a "Christian-Like Blog" such as this. One kind soul explained to us that Brooklyn was a Borough of NYC and since we were technically in NYC why didn't we park that contraption and join their party. To be perfectly honest, we were a wee bit frightened and as quickly as possible we exited Flat Bush Ave. with no desire to ever return.
As quickly as possible we crossed back over the Brooklyn Bridge to NYC and started to look for a place to spend the night. After going up and down several streets we sighted a hotel. We knew it was a hotel because they had a large red sign that continuously flashed on and off. It wasn't the grand hotel that people usually think about when discussing a hotels in NYC. It certainly wasn't in a very appealing section of NYC. But it did have a flashing red HOTEL sign and we were exhausted. At the registration desk the clerk didn't seem put-off by our appearance. He said that the nightly rent was $10.00 ea. We almost walked out because we had become accustomed to paying $1.00 a night. But we were all exhausted and checked in.
We should have been a wee bit suspicious when we read a sign on the check-in desk which read, "NO REFUNDS".
Now let me describe the room. It was located on the second floor. It had one light that hung from the ceiling by an electric cord. The was no lamp shade, just a light bulb. When we had inquired about a bathroom.the clerk had said, "Oh yes". It's just a few steps down the hall. We found that the bathroom was really thirty-five steps down the hall. There were no shades or blinds on the windows and the red flashing sign was located right outside our room.. There were two double beds and the source of the bedding was suspect. We had inquired where to park our car. The clerk answered, "It will be perfectly safe parked on the street just outside So we went through our routine of transferring sleeping bags from the top of the car to inside the car and locking the doors. I think we all prayed that the car would be there in the morning.
We all slept soundly all night. There was just one problem when we awoke For some reason each of us complained of a red flashing light in our brains. We tried all kind of actions to erase that light. But it was almost an hour before it went away.
Surprise, surprise, The car was still safe where we had parked it. I suspect that some thief may have stopped for a moment but upon examining it closely, knew that it was a complete catastrophe. We discovered that we had stayed in a "hotel(?)" located near Washington Square in NYC. We then went to the top of the Empire State Building. We gazed at the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. We ate lunch in a "Grab-a-teria" and we went to Coney Island Amusement Park and spent a few hours there. Three teen-age girls tried to pick us up there. They saw us pushing our car to start it and said they would help us push if we would give them a ride. We had heard of the Wiles of big city women, and replied, "no thanks, but thanks for offering." We'd had enough of NYC. It was time to go home. Little did me know that we still had some future foolishness in us that would be on display.
We were traveling through New Jersey and began to see signs pointing to the Holland Tunnel and Manhattan Island. We knew that Manhattan Island was the approximate center of New York City, (after all, we hadn't just fallen off the turnip wagon), and this was our destination. So into the tunnel we went.
Every twenty-five yards or so there was a police office stationed on a platform at the side of the tunnel. Each of the policemen were waving frantically for us to speed up. Good grief, we were going as fast as the car would go and we were still holding up traffic. We shot out of the end of the tunnel and were immediately faced with a major problem. Straight ahead were eight or ten streets leading off in different directions and it was not possible for us to stop and consider which street to follow. We just picked a street and away we went with the flow. We had no idea where we were or where we going. The street led onto a bridge and we followed like sheep. After we crossed the bridge and we were finally able to park, we checked our map and determined we had just crossed over the East River on the Brooklyn Bridge and were now in Brooklyn, NY. We had completely bypassed NYC.. We considered changing our signs on the car to read, "Return to NYC or Bust."
After a short drive, we found we were in Brooklyn, NY, on Flat Bush Avenue on Saturday night.We were in a different world. Even though Brooklyn had traffic lights and sidewalks they didn't use either. Flat Bush Ave. was completely crowded (but not with cars; just with illegal pedestrians). The local residents seemed to think that it was a sin to walk on a sidewalk. If they wanted to cross the street, they didn't wait for the traffic light to change or even search for a cross walk They just stepped out into traffic and dared a car to hit them.
Since there were far more pedestrians than cars, the traffic movement was extremely slow. In most cases, you could move faster by walking than by riding in a car. In some cases a group of people had accumulated into a discussion group and automobile traffic came to a complete stop.
If you can visualize this scene, you can understand why we were the stars of "Saturday Night Live." It seemed that hundreds of pedestrians passed us and most had an unkind comment. Many reminded us that we had lost the hood on our car. Many wanted to know where we had parked our horses. Most wanted to know where Utah was. Most of the comments were not printable in a "Christian-Like Blog" such as this. One kind soul explained to us that Brooklyn was a Borough of NYC and since we were technically in NYC why didn't we park that contraption and join their party. To be perfectly honest, we were a wee bit frightened and as quickly as possible we exited Flat Bush Ave. with no desire to ever return.
As quickly as possible we crossed back over the Brooklyn Bridge to NYC and started to look for a place to spend the night. After going up and down several streets we sighted a hotel. We knew it was a hotel because they had a large red sign that continuously flashed on and off. It wasn't the grand hotel that people usually think about when discussing a hotels in NYC. It certainly wasn't in a very appealing section of NYC. But it did have a flashing red HOTEL sign and we were exhausted. At the registration desk the clerk didn't seem put-off by our appearance. He said that the nightly rent was $10.00 ea. We almost walked out because we had become accustomed to paying $1.00 a night. But we were all exhausted and checked in.
We should have been a wee bit suspicious when we read a sign on the check-in desk which read, "NO REFUNDS".
Now let me describe the room. It was located on the second floor. It had one light that hung from the ceiling by an electric cord. The was no lamp shade, just a light bulb. When we had inquired about a bathroom.the clerk had said, "Oh yes". It's just a few steps down the hall. We found that the bathroom was really thirty-five steps down the hall. There were no shades or blinds on the windows and the red flashing sign was located right outside our room.. There were two double beds and the source of the bedding was suspect. We had inquired where to park our car. The clerk answered, "It will be perfectly safe parked on the street just outside So we went through our routine of transferring sleeping bags from the top of the car to inside the car and locking the doors. I think we all prayed that the car would be there in the morning.
We all slept soundly all night. There was just one problem when we awoke For some reason each of us complained of a red flashing light in our brains. We tried all kind of actions to erase that light. But it was almost an hour before it went away.
Surprise, surprise, The car was still safe where we had parked it. I suspect that some thief may have stopped for a moment but upon examining it closely, knew that it was a complete catastrophe. We discovered that we had stayed in a "hotel(?)" located near Washington Square in NYC. We then went to the top of the Empire State Building. We gazed at the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. We ate lunch in a "Grab-a-teria" and we went to Coney Island Amusement Park and spent a few hours there. Three teen-age girls tried to pick us up there. They saw us pushing our car to start it and said they would help us push if we would give them a ride. We had heard of the Wiles of big city women, and replied, "no thanks, but thanks for offering." We'd had enough of NYC. It was time to go home. Little did me know that we still had some future foolishness in us that would be on display.
The Donut Story
Mother told me this story about my sister, Buffie. When she was about twelve years old and mother was at a church meeting she decided to make some donuts. She gathered the ingredients, prepared the batter, cut out the donuts and cooked them in hot oil. The donuts were beautiful. The last step was to sprinkle them with sugar. Buffie was very proud of her efforts and finally took the first taste.
Her mouth started to pucker and she couldn't believe her taster. The donuts were completely loaded with salt. As she was preparing the batter she had reached into the cupboard and grabbed a quart bottle of what she thought was sugar. It was salt. She used the same bottle of sugar to sprinkle the donuts after they were cooked. It was still salt. She ruined the complete batch of donuts. She wanted to get some benefit from these ruined donuts so she threw them over the fence into the chicken yard. At least the chickens would enjoy them. Later that evening, when dad came home, he went out to do some evening chores and found all thirty-five of his chickens lying on their backs with their legs sticking in the air. They were dead. The salt had killed every one of his chickens.
Now for the rest of the story. Sixty-five years after the "salty donuts story", I received a call from my third daughter, Kathy. She was complaining because a neighbor from across the street was raising chickens. He would release these chickens from their pen each morning and they would eventually arrive in Kathy's yard, scratching and digging and spreading chicken manure. Kathy wanted to know if I had any suggestions on how to stop this problem. My reply was for her to talk to her husband. He was an attorney and should be able correct this situation. Kathy answered that he was far too busy to become involved in a "chicken-law suit. At that time I received some inspiration. Joan, my wife, said that the inspiration was from a tainted source. Never-the-less, I suggested that Kathy just make some donuts using salt rather than sugar and throw them out in her front yard.
Several weeks later I asked Kathy how she had solved her chicken problem. She replied, "I did what you recommended." I don't know what happened, but the chickens don't visit my yard anymore."
It is so satisfying when my wisdom, accumulated over eighty-some years, can help my children solve problems they face in their life. If any of the readers of this blog has a problem, I'll be happy to solve your problem provided the solution doesn't require money or effort.
Grandpa's Humor -
When I was younger and in better health I loved to play golf. One of the courses I played had a hole that required a wood shot over a lake. I had never been successful in keeping my ball out of the water. Therefore, I never used a new ball. Rather, I would use an old ball that had multiple slices and nicks.
One day when I reached this hole, I chose the usual old defaced ball and said a silent prayer. However, before I could hit, a powerful voice from above seemed to boom out from the clouds, saying, "WAIT, REPLACE THE OLD BALL WITH A BRAND NEW BALL. I did so and prepared to hit. But once again a voice came down saying: "WAIT, STEP BACK AND TAKE A PRACTICE SWING."
I did so and prepared to hit. Again a voice boomed saying, "TAKE ANOTHER PRACTICE SWING." I was excited because I felt that I would receive Heavenly help and be able to hit my ball onto the green. So I stepped back and took another practice swing. A long silence followed. Then the voice said: "USE THE OLD BALL.
Her mouth started to pucker and she couldn't believe her taster. The donuts were completely loaded with salt. As she was preparing the batter she had reached into the cupboard and grabbed a quart bottle of what she thought was sugar. It was salt. She used the same bottle of sugar to sprinkle the donuts after they were cooked. It was still salt. She ruined the complete batch of donuts. She wanted to get some benefit from these ruined donuts so she threw them over the fence into the chicken yard. At least the chickens would enjoy them. Later that evening, when dad came home, he went out to do some evening chores and found all thirty-five of his chickens lying on their backs with their legs sticking in the air. They were dead. The salt had killed every one of his chickens.
Now for the rest of the story. Sixty-five years after the "salty donuts story", I received a call from my third daughter, Kathy. She was complaining because a neighbor from across the street was raising chickens. He would release these chickens from their pen each morning and they would eventually arrive in Kathy's yard, scratching and digging and spreading chicken manure. Kathy wanted to know if I had any suggestions on how to stop this problem. My reply was for her to talk to her husband. He was an attorney and should be able correct this situation. Kathy answered that he was far too busy to become involved in a "chicken-law suit. At that time I received some inspiration. Joan, my wife, said that the inspiration was from a tainted source. Never-the-less, I suggested that Kathy just make some donuts using salt rather than sugar and throw them out in her front yard.
Several weeks later I asked Kathy how she had solved her chicken problem. She replied, "I did what you recommended." I don't know what happened, but the chickens don't visit my yard anymore."
It is so satisfying when my wisdom, accumulated over eighty-some years, can help my children solve problems they face in their life. If any of the readers of this blog has a problem, I'll be happy to solve your problem provided the solution doesn't require money or effort.
Grandpa's Humor -
When I was younger and in better health I loved to play golf. One of the courses I played had a hole that required a wood shot over a lake. I had never been successful in keeping my ball out of the water. Therefore, I never used a new ball. Rather, I would use an old ball that had multiple slices and nicks.
One day when I reached this hole, I chose the usual old defaced ball and said a silent prayer. However, before I could hit, a powerful voice from above seemed to boom out from the clouds, saying, "WAIT, REPLACE THE OLD BALL WITH A BRAND NEW BALL. I did so and prepared to hit. But once again a voice came down saying: "WAIT, STEP BACK AND TAKE A PRACTICE SWING."
I did so and prepared to hit. Again a voice boomed saying, "TAKE ANOTHER PRACTICE SWING." I was excited because I felt that I would receive Heavenly help and be able to hit my ball onto the green. So I stepped back and took another practice swing. A long silence followed. Then the voice said: "USE THE OLD BALL.
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