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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.