hypocrisy in gratitude

     This fall started out dry, and remained dry through December and January.  When we arrived home from our mission in mid-November, there was no snow on the ground.  It was cold, but there was no precipitation; until the day we drove home.  We left our daughter's home in Bountiful one afternoon and a few snowflakes were lazily spinning around.  By the time we were on the freeway, driving through Davis County, the snow accumulation was building rapidly.  I had not driven for two years, I was driving a pick-up with no weight in the back.  With a prayer, tightly cinched seat-belts, and equally tightly clenched hands on the steering wheel, we headed north.  I was dreading Sardine Canyon's reputation for being a very dangerous, deadly mountain passage connecting the freeway with Logan and home.  As the miles passed, the snowfall became lighter.  The drive usually takes about two hours, and I anticipated three hours at least because of the snow, the truck and my lack of practice.  Approaching Ogden, I could see blue sky opening up in the heavy snow clouds.  Leaving Ogden behind, the blue overpowered clouds, and the sun was shining brilliantly.  The treacherous Sardine Canyon road was dry and gave the appearance of not receiving any moisture on its surface.The skies remained blue and sunny over December and January, with few hints of winter moisture.
     Our Stake President called for his stake members to fast for water, snow on the approaching February Fast Sunday.  At the end of our meetings that day, we filed out of the chapel into the foyer, looked out onto the parking lot. We saw snow that had been falling for quite some time, and had accumulated thickly on cars, sidewalks and pavement.  We were all delighted that Heavenly Father would bless us so quickly.  It became a topic of conversation wherever we went around Cache Valley.  " What a testimony builder it was," we would say, and all would agree.  We were blessed with snow up to our knees on driveways and sidewalks.  No one dared complain!  Most of the month it rained on our lawns and snowed in the mountains.  "Who can complain about that!" we said to one another.  Even as the leaf buds grew, crocuses pushed up, and lawns turned greener, it rained in the valley and snowed in the hills.  Conversations started turning toward gardening, with an eye on the snow "up there." 
     With March approaching, we were called to fast for thanksgiving, gratitude for the answer to our prayers.  This day of fasting was today.  The clouds were heavy and low this morning, with a little sprinkle of rain that wasn't enough to spoil a lady's hairdo.  We spent our three hours in church, being grateful for the water and snow we had been blessed with, for the amazingly quick response to our pleas.  The meeting ended, the congregation began filing out of the chapel.  We cast our eyes toward the parking lot. Large clumped snowflakes were falling heavily, covering cars, sidewalks, and pavement.  There was a hesitation at the door as people looked out with unhappy faces.  They expressed their dismay at the idea of more snow. verbally and in body language.
     Then is when I thought about the title for this: Hypocrisy in Gratitude.  I began to laugh.  We had just received an abundant and immediate answer to our fast for water and snow.  We had just spent the month expressing our gratitude and wonderment of the speed and abundance of the gift.  Within five minutes of dismissal from our meeting of gratitude, some were murmuring.  Another lesson learned: at times we are quick to forget, at times we outwardly express one thing and inwardly speak another. 
    

Look Over There

     One day last week I arrived at the office and looked for my keys I keep in my purse. They weren't there.  We were busy throughout the day and evening so I didn't have a chance to look for them. The next day I looked in my music bag for the keys because that is the last place I remember having them.  They weren't there.

     Still not worried, but a little put out with myself, I started checking all my pockets. No keys. I checked all the drawers, chairs, floors. No keys.  I didn't know where else to look.  I told Jay, and he also checked where I had already done so.  No keys.  I decided that we would just have to go to the office again without the keys, and then come home and search more.

     I went into the bathroom to get ready, and offered a quiet little prayer. I said I had looked everywhere and the keys weren't there.  I asked for help.  In the time it took to take a breath, in my mind I saw my red Scripture bag.  I walked to the room where it was, saw my Bible in the bag, but nothing else.  I was just about to turn around when I was told to look under the Bible.  I lifted the Book out, and there were my keys!!!!!  I have no idea how they got there.  They were separated from the key ring that holds all my keys. I never put keys in my Scripture bag. 

     God answers prayers.  Sometimes quickly, sometimes later.  Sometimes "yes", sometimes "no", sometimes, "later". 

Guardian Angel?

     I consider this to be too sacred to post on facebook but want to share with those more intimately encircled.

     I have been blessed with many gifts. I have one gift that relates to this blog. I have sensed and seen spirits. Usually they are female.  I know who some of them are, but others are not identified.

     Lately I have "caught" one out of the corner of my eye, and it disappears quickly.  One evening when Jay and I were returning home to our apartment, we stepped off the elevator and approached our door. Jay was fumbling with the lock when I looked up and saw a spirit someone turn and leave.  Because of my previous experiences, I didn't really react. It was just "another spirit."

     I have been quite ill with a cold this past week and hadn't left the apartment since last Sunday. Yesterday was Thursday. I have four piano students who are getting ready for a recital. I needed to be there for their lessons. The Ward choir scheduled a practice immediately after piano lessons. This means I was gone for a little over three hours. I was tired, considering I had just spent the past six days in bed.  Returning home, I stepped out of the elevator, key in hand, to enter our apartment.  There are about 10 steps from the elevator to our door, and when I had taken a little more than half of those steps, I looked up and again saw the same spirit who had been there earlier. I sensed that she was with me to see me safely home. It was very comforting. I don't know who she is. She could be someone who has a personal interest in me, but could be the one assigned to watch over us while we are serving a mission.

     The one thing I know for certain from this experience, is that, I am not alone. I have protection at all times. I have a guard for even such simple things as leaving the apartment, crossing the street to Temple Square, and returning home to the presence of a Priesthood bearer.  Is this perhaps one way how I share the priesthood? Is this evidence of the answer to all your prayers for our safety? Yes, I believe so.

Tender Mercy and the Loose Screw

    Eyeglasses are as much a part of me as the eyes they assist.  Only recently have I been able to remove them and be satisfied with the vision I have, thanks to cataract surgery and a little correction within. 

     The more frequent removal may have something to do with this story, for perhaps the more constant change in pressure on the joints of the glasses caused a reaction. I have never had much problem with my glasses over my life, other than the breaking of older frames, or their slipping down my nose. I was not aware of things that could go wrong.   It was liberating to find joints on frames that were flexible, yet would hug my face firmly. That is  my priority when shopping for frames.

     Recently, over the past six months, I have thought these temple pieces were getting a little loose, but nothing seemed to be a problem.  One day as we were ready to leave the apartment, my lens fell out onto the table.  I was able to snap it back in, and with the "snap" I thought everything was purely accident.  A month ago it fell out again, and I couldn't make it stay in. There was no "snap".  Jay put it in and said, "Be careful." Last week I went to get my glasses and found them on the table with the lens lying beside the frame.  After trying half a dozen times unsuccessfully to correct the problem, I sat down to closely inspect them. I discovered that the screw that connects the lower part of the frame to the upper part, hence securing the lens, had come apart.  I quickly found a screw driver small enough, tightened all the loose screwS, and realized my tender mercy. 

     The tender mercy of all this, is that the screw was still there, that the final breaking point was safely in our apartment, on the table.  In all the walking and bus travel, and touring we had done in those six months, all the removing and putting on occasions, and the manipulations to replace the lens, that screw was STILL THERE!  Even in the apartment, it happened while LYING ON THE TABLE! Anywhere else but there would have been bad news.

"Paid by the Animal" Game

     One week our family drove to Yellowstone Park. My dad drove, my mother read the map and handed us sandwiches and drinks. My brother Jim sat on one side of the back seat and I sat on the other side.  Jim liked to tease me, especially in ways that my parents couldn't see.  I would squeal and object, and when my parents had heard enough, my dad would pick the hairbrush that always seemed to be in the front seat, reach over the seat and try to make us stop making noise (me, and not my fault). They never told Jim to stop teasing, only told me to stop making noise.  Well, Jim was bored and he was about 14 or 15 years old. I was somewhere around nine.   The second day was very cloudy and a little rainy. We were driving some more, and Jim was getting ready to start teasing. My mother sensed this and made up a new game. She said, " Look out the window for wild animals. I will give you five cents for one kind, 10 cents for another kind, and 25 cents for even another.  We had not seen one single wild animal up to that point. Even on earlier trips to The Park, we hadn't seen more than a few bears, an elk or two, and perhaps a bison. I think she was planning on that and could afford that much change.  Soon, we came around a bend in the road and spied a whole herd of elk. We couldn't even count them all. There must have been a hundred of them. It wasn't too long before we drove by a herd of bison. Boy, Jim and I were really excited by now!  My parents weren't so excited for some reason.  We saw five or six bear, and a few eagles.  We never did collect our earnings, but the experience created a great memory.  I have never again seen the same population of wild animals in a single day in The Park

Valued Lesson

     There are some things in this world you can only learn by hard work. Where do you learn to work hard? I think it is a combination of things: work ethic, desire, need, and maybe some more.

     I learned my work ethic from the need and desire to accomplish things that werent getting done by overwhelmed parents. I learned to carry through from my piano teacher. I learned to finish projects from school teachers. Not all were fun. Not many were of my choosing. Some motivation was personal, some was by prod or reward. My husband learned from a desire to make things better. He learned from the necessities of poverty. He learned to depend upon himself for motivation.

      My children learned their work ethic from their parents.  With a family growing larger every few years, there were always things to be washed, picked up, and made better. With hungry mouths to feed came a garden that enlarged a few feet every year. Each growing foot of garden produced more weeds. Those weeds needed to be removed. Those children learned to weed to the end of the row. They learned to clean, wash, pick up and make better till the job was done. They complained. They procrastinated. They unwillingly obeyed. And now, they praise their parents for having had these experiences.  Hopefully they are passing these lessons learned on to their children.

     I just recentlly came across a Desert News article about work ethic/children, and I would like to share a piece of it. If I had memorizing skills intact, I would memorize it. This is a poem by Douglas Malloch:

         " Bill Brown made a million,
          Bill Brown, think of that!
          A boy, you remember, as poor as a rat.
          Who hoed for the neighbors, did jobs by the day,
          Well Bill's made a million, or near it, they say.
          You cant understand it, well neither could I.
          And then I remembered, and now I know why.
          The bell might be ringing, the dinner horn blow,
          But Bill always hoed to the end of the row."

      

Just for Laughs

     There is a senior missionary here who related the following story. I dont know if it is true or not, as this particular missionary tells a lot of things that arent true.  He is a bona fide leg-puller.

     It was Fast Sunday. The congregation participated, each in his own way. Some bore testimonies from the pulpit, others gained strength from those audibly borne.  It came time for the meeting to end when a sister jumped up and walked quickly to the pulpit. As she proceeded with her testimony, she became a little weepy. She did the little hand flutter thing and wiped away a tear or two.  In closing, she apologized in a shaky voice for being such a big boob, but couldnt help it. Then she returned to her seat in the congregation.

     The bishop got up to close the meeting. His first comment was directed toward this weepy member, "That's alright, Sister ......., my counselors and I like big boobs."

     It was just seconds till he realized what he had said and he was embarassed.

Those Neighbors!

     Our neighbors on Walnut Street were the McCarrans on the south. The Kalepps lived on the other side. The Dad was named Footsy, and my friend's name was Linda.

     McCarrans daughter, Patty, was about a year older than I, and knew more things than I did. I had a pair of roller skates and was just learning to use them. I think I put them on for the first time when Patty asked if she could skate, too. Well, what do you do when two little girls want to skate and there is only one pair of skates? Right. You share.  Our solution was for each of us to wear one skate.  It was a lot easier that way. We pushed on the grass with one foot while the foot with the skate rolled on the sidewalk.

     One day, in the morning, I went out the front door, carrying a box of cereal. I was going to eat it right from the box.  My mama said it was okay.  I was standing in the yard, eating puffed rice by the handful when Mrs McCarran came out. She saw me eating right from the box and told me that I should take it back into the house. She said my mama wouldnt want me to be doing that. I didnt pay any attention to her, because I knew my mama didnt care.  Mrs. McCarran called my mama on the telephone and pretty soon I had to go in. I ate my cereal out of the box in the house.

     Linda Kalepp was younger than I was, and still slept in a crib. I slept in a big girl's bed.  This was the first time I remember seeing a crib and was fascinated by it. I didnt say anything, but Mrs. Kalepp asked me if I would like to get into the crib. I said yes,and she lifted me into it. I sat there for a few minutes and then she lifted me back out. 

     One morning I went over to see if Linda could play.  She was still eating breakfast.  She didnt want to eat. Her mama asked me if I would like to eat her breakfast. I said yes, because it was a soft boiled egg, and I loved them. I felt sorry that Linda wouldnt eat it, but I was very happy to help her.

     During World War II it was very hard to get food.  The food went to the soldiers. People were asked to plant little gardens in their yards to help feed their families.  The Kalepps planted their garden right next to the picket fence between our back yards. In the middle of the summer, I noticed that their garden had nice green leaves. I pulled one up, and to my surprise, there was a carrot attached!  I liked carrots. The carrot was really good. I pulled another and ate it. I thought that was enough for one day. The next day I pulled a few more.  When I did that the third day, I thought  I had better save some for them, so didnt pick any more.

     Patty lived across the alley. I didnt know her very well, but we played together a few times. One afternoon, we played in her yard for a really long time. It was getting dark. When she went in for dinner, I went home.  My mama and daddy were very angry with me because they didnt know where I was.  I had to go to bed without any dinner.

     The Liddiards lived next the the Kalepps. All the kids in their family were really big and old. Some were even teen agers. One of them was our babysitter a few times. We didnt really need a babysitter because Jim was eleven years old. That is what Jim and I thought.  One day the babysitter took me downtown with her. She took me on the tram. The tram is a short train that ran the length of the town and out to the smelter where our dads worked. My mama didnt want me to ride the tram, and when I told her what an exciting day I had, she got mad at the babysitter and we never had her again.

   Next to the Liddiards, on the corner there was a little girl about my age. I dont know what her name was, I dont think I knew even then. She and I played in her house. She had a little table just her size, and she had a coloring book and crayons. I had never seen such things before. I went back to her house to color in her book.

     Timmy Sullivan lived around the corner, across the street from the store. He had a dog named Georgie.  I had just learned the poem, Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie; Kissed the girls and made them cry.  I didnt understand how a dog could kiss girls, and why they would cry.  Timmy had some baby cereal called Pablum in his basement. We tried it, but it wasnt very good. We fed it to Georgie, who seemed to like it.

     Kathy McMahon lived next to Timmy. She had a big brother named John, and a big sister named Gertrude.  John was mean. He took my stuffed rabbit that the Easter Bunny brought. My brother went to his house and got my rabbit back.  Gertrude had make-up in her room.  Kathy and went in there and decorated ourselves. We painted our fingernails with her nail polish. We tried very hard not to spill, but we were just little girls.  Gertrude (we called her Gerchoode) was REALLY mad at us.

Ray Paul's Fault

     I was only two and a half. Ray Paul was about one and a half, and could walk pretty well.  Ray Paul lived next door to us. He had a big sister named Patty. She was about three and a half.  Sometimes I played with Patty at her house. Her mom had a big jar of candy right next to the front door and sometimes she would let us have one piece.

     It was summer and it was hot. My mama was running water onto the lawn from the hose. She went into the house, and I stayed outside. I picked up the hose to help water the lawn. It was fun to make the water go high or low.  Mrs McCarran put Ray Paul out to play and he came over to watch me water the lawn.  I turned a little to change the water, and Ray Paul was right in the way and got all wet.  His mama came out, saw him all wet, and took him in.

     Soon Ray Paul came out again, with different clothes on. I was still watering. He came over again. I turned again. He was in the way again. He got wet again. His mama came out again. This time she said something to me, but I didnt understand her.

     Ray Paul came out for the third time, with more different clothes on. I wasnt finished watering. He wasnt finished watching me. I had to water a different spot. He was in the way and got wet. His mama came out and she was mad. She yelled at me. I didnt know why she was mad at me, because it was Ray Paul who kept getting in the way.  He didnt come out again, but I was finished watering anyway, so went into the house to find something else to do.

Walkin' With My Daddy

     When I was little, shoes only came in two colors, brown or white, otherwise, they looked just the same.  I had white ones. They were kind of like boots because they went up past my ankle bones, and tied up the front with white laces.  They were kind of stiff, especially when they were new.

     One day, when I had shoes that were pretty new, Daddy asked me to go to the store with him. The store was less than a block away, across a street.  Daddy held my hand. I had to reach up high to hold his hand. He walked slowly because I didnt take very big steps.

     I watched his feet walking and saw that his brown shoes would bend in front of the shoelaces when he stepped.  I didnt walk like that. My shoes didnt bend when I walked. I thought that I would try to walk like Daddy.  It was hard to remember to bend my shoes, but I tried really hard, and was able to do it most of the time.  On the way home from the store, I was able to bend my shoes really well.

     Now I was a bigger girl because I walked like a big girl.

Getting High

     Our block had many old cottonwood trees. They were very tall, and the branches were pretty close together.  Some of them had branches low enough that if I reached up really high, I could hold onto them.

     Mrs. Wellcome, who lived on the corner, had the very best tree for climbing. The lowest branch was just perfect for getting a hand hold, then swinging a leg over. Then as soon as I was on that first branch, I could find my way to the top. The tree smelled really good, kind of sour/sweet. The green leaves were big and dark green and a little sticky from sap. The branches were kind of smooth as soon as I got started climbing.

     Some branches were really easy to climb to, but others were pretty hard and I had to figure out how to get up to the next one. The higher I got, the thinner the branches became. I continued climbing till the branches were so thin that they would break if I stepped on them.  I would sit up there, enjoying my successful climb, the solitude of being the only one around, and the pride of being the only one who could climb so high.  On one of the earliest climbs, I used my pocket knife to carve my initials up high into the trunk. Every time I climbed, I would check on that spot to see if it needed some work.

     When I was ready, I started my descent. I had to remember which branches led to the next lower one. This was a good game of memory, physical strength, and planning. Eventually, I reached the lowest branch, lay down on it with my hands clasped together, then swung my legs over the side, and freeing my hands, I dropped to the ground.  I was a good tree climber.

Chicken Cookies

     My friend invited me to go with her and her mom and dad to visit someone who lived west of town. I was surprised to see that they lived on a farm. I had never been on a farm before.

     We all visited for a few minutes in the living room, then my friend and I had permission to go outside. We were told not to sit on the basketball. I thought this was an odd thing. I had never thought of sitting on a basketball. I think they thought it would go flat if we sat on it. So we looked around for something to do.

     Farms have a lot of things that I had never seen before. There was a whole lot of yard, and then even more past the grass that was mostly dirt. There were little sheds, and some of these sheds had chickens sitting in them. We looked in, but it was too stinky. Sitting next to the chickens' house was a cloth bag with seeds in it.  We found a couple eggs. I didnt know that chickens had something to do with eggs. All our eggs came in a little box and were in the fridge. These eggs were warm and kind of dirty.

     We decided to make cookies. For flour we used dirt.  For nuts and raisins we used the seeds in the bag. There was water set out for the chickens to drink, so we used some for our cookies. We knew that cookies had to have eggs, so we broke all the eggs we could find into our cookie mix, then stirred it up with sticks.

     We were just about finished when my friend's family came looking for us.  The farm lady saw our cookie mix and was not at all happy. We didnt know why. We were bundled into the car for a silent ride home.

     I was never invited to visit with them again.
    

Away In A Manger

    
I was just three or four years old. I had a new dress with black velvet on the top and little lambs on a dark blue background for the bodice and skirt. It was very pretty.

     One day in December, my mama told me that I was supposed to learn a song for the children's Christmas pageant at the church.  Our family didnt go to church very often, so I didnt learn the songs in Sunday School. My mama knew the song and taught it to me. I knew every word and could sing the melody without any mistakes. I was ready for this pageant. I didnt know what a pageant was, but I was willing to go to it.

     The pageant was going to be a play about baby Jesus and when He was born. Some of the kids wore white sheets and gold Christmas tree decorations. Other kids wore bathrobes and towels on their heads and carried sticks. One girl wore a blue cloth over her head and just sat next to a funny-looking box with a doll in it. I would have liked to bring my doll for her to look at.

     When it was time to sing Away in A Manger, I stood up with the kids in normal Sunday clothes. I got to be in the front because I was small. The big kids stood in the back row.  The piano started to play, the lady told us when to start. We all started together, but soon it was apparent that something was wrong.   I was singing a different melody. I thought all those kids were wrong, so I sang a little louder to help them get it right. They wouldnt listen! I sang a little louder. They still wouldnt listen, so I decided to just sing and they would be sad that they sang the wrong song. 

     It wasnt till many years later that I learned that there are more than two versions of the melody for the same words.  Good for me for sticking to my guns. It showed a streak of some kind: stubborn, stand up for myself, helpful..........


    

Brown Sugar Sandwiches

    I lived next door to a family of five girls and three boys.  Four of the girls were close to my age, the fifth was a little too young for me.  Our houses were right next to a hill, and on top of the hill was the cemetary. Very often we would visit the cemetary to read the names and dates on the headstones. We would figure out how old they were when they died. We would wonder about them. The cemetary was a very peaceful place and we liked going there.

     Often we would take a picnic up to the cemetary and sit on the grass and enjoy ourselves.  I started out with peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches because that was the only kind of sandwich I knew about.  My friends shared their sandwich ideas with me. One was butter and brown sugar. You put lots of butter on the bread, sprinkle lots of brown sugar on,then cover it with another piece of bread. Another sandwich was fried Spam. Spam comes in a can. It is ham that is all ground up and pressed back together again. I never heard of it before.  You slice a piece about one fourth inch thick and fry it till it turns a little bit brown. Put the fried Spam on a piece of bread, pour lots of Ketchup over it and cover it with the other piece of bread.  I learned about honey mixed with peanutbutter.  I liked it better than jelly.   I learned that you could fry an egg, break the yolk so it can spread all over the white, salt and pepper it, add lots of ketchup to it and eat it between two pieces of bread. It is good cold or warm.

    I still make these sandwiches and really like them, but my favorite sandwich is a hamburger.  I have many happy memories that involve sandwiches, so eating each one is an emotional feast,too. 

Grandma "Annie Oakley"

     One Sunday our family drove two hours to Helena, Montana, to Aunt Harriet's house. We went with them on a picnic to Gates of the Mountain. This is a place where you can get on a big boat and drive up from one lake to another.  We were waiting for the boat, so Daddy brought out his .22 rifle and .22 pistol out. He set up some things to shoot at, and one of the things was a little cigarette packet with a round, red circle on it, just like a target.  Everybody had a turn shooting at the targets. When it was my turn, Daddy held the rifle for me because I wasnt strong enough to hold it by myself. I was only six years old. He told me how to look down the top of the barrel and point it at the little cigarette packet. I did just what he said, squeezed the trigger that made the bullet fly toward the target.  It was very loud.  When they brought the target back, there was a little hole right in the middle.  I had shot a bullseye!  That is a very hard thing to do, and I was just a little girl.  I guess I am a pretty good shot.

A Funny Thing

     One day our family went on a picnic in the woods, near the little creek.  It was hot that day, even in the mountains where we were.  Mother and Daddy told us to go play while they took naps, but said that we should not go near the water.

     My brother was about eleven or twelve years old. He was very skinny. He was playing near the creek and he lost his balance and fell in.  The water was very cold. He climbed out but his clothes were as wet as a washcloth in bathwater. We didnt bring any extra clothes for any of us. We didnt have sweaters or jackets or blankets.  The only blanket there was, was the one under Mama and Daddy. 

     Our parents woke up really fast and used the blanket to dry my brother a little, but his clothes were still very wet.  My mother only had one thing that she considered "extra", her rubber girdle.  A girdle was like really tight panties that held your tummy tight.  It had little dangly things called garters that pantyhose attached to.  She hid behind the car and took it off. My dad put Jim into the car and told him to take his clothes off. Then he took the girdle from Mama, handed it to Jim and told him to put it on till they could dry his clothes near the fire.  When Jim came from the car, he was holding the white, rubber girdle by both hands and looking very disturbed.  It was so big that two of him could have fit into it.

     I couldnt help it, I started giggling, then burst out laughing and laughing. His skinny, white legs with knobby knees just looked soooo funny.  And the look on his face was soooo funny.  I still laugh and it is still fresh in my memory.

A Scary Thing

     One day we went on a picnic in the trees and near a small creek.  After we sat around the fire a while, then had our picnic, Mother and Daddy lay down on the blanket to take naps.  They told us to stay away from the creek because it was full and the water was really, really fast. There was a little bridge across the creek. Jim and I sat on the bridge for a while. I was a little afraid because the water was really fast and the noise was loud. I was glad when we left the bridge. It was more fun to find the ant paths and try to see where they were going.

    

Picnicking

     When I was young, before Joyce and Jeanne were born, our family went on quite a few picnics. Mama would fry chicken and make potato salad. I dont remember a vegetable, but there probably was one. She would pack everything into the picnic basket. There would be plates and glasses and silverware. There would be a thermos full of coffee for her and Daddy. My brother and I didnt drink coffee because we were kids. I think we might have had homemade lemonade, or Orange Crush pop.  Daddy would get the car ready. He would put gas in the tank and check the oil and tires. There was a blanket that we always had to lay on the ground. The places we had picnics didnt have tables, but there were firepits.  The firepits werent maintained by Park Service, but had been there a long time because they were used by other picnickers.

     Mother would lay out the blanket, Daddy would start the fire.  We sat near the fire, sitting on logs that had been placed there.  Everybody would sigh as they started to relax. They commented on how nice the fire was.  I didnt think the fire was so nice. It seemed that anywhere I chose to sit, the smoke would follow me and I couldnt breathe. When I moved to a place where the smoke wasnt, as soon as I sat down, the smoke would find me.

     Our picnic places were in places where the pine trees were very tall, and there was a small creek nearby. The air smelled like pine trees and pine needles mixed with the cold, clear, mineralized smell of rushing water. The sounds of the wind blowing through the pines, the shhhhhhhhh of the water flowing, and the birds chirping was very peaceful. I enjoyed watching the big black ants and the big red ants marching along the ground.

     Mother and Daddy soon would lie down on the blanket and fall asleep. Jim and I were free to wander a little while we let them take their naps.  Soon they would wake and it was time to go.  After all the picnic things were loaded into the trunk, we would drive home, tired, relaxed, and ready for home.

Scared

     I have twin sisters who are ten and a half years younger. One night I was assigned to babysit while my parents went out.  I think Joyce and Jeanne were about three or four, so I would have been a young teen ager.

     In my town was a copper smelter. At certain times of the day, there would be a very loud whistle coming from the smelter, telling the workers that it was time to change shifts, or eat lunch, or go home.  Those times were 8:00, 12:00. and 4:00. 

     The night I was babysitting, I was still up and it was getting close to midnight. I didnt have anything to do and was standing in the living room. Suddenly, I heard the smelter whistle blow. It was so unusual, that I didnt identify it as the Whistle. It kept blowing and blowing. I started to worry. Maybe it was something bad. What should I do? Should I get the babies up and take them to the basement? If I did, they wouldnt go back to sleep and Mother and Daddy would be mad at me. I stood frozen for what seemed to be forever. Then I ducked down and sat under the piano. That is when I realized that it was just the Whistle. Mother and Daddy soon returned home, and by that time I was sitting on the couch.  They were all smiles, didnt mention the Whistle, so I never knew why it blew.

Visitors

     When I was young, we had a few unusual visitors to our home.  When I was about three or four, I was informed that we would have a guest named Hazel.  I was sitting on the couch in our living room, all clean and dressed in a fresh dress.  I was eating hazelnuts. I thought how funny that there was going to be a visitor with the same name as a nut. I wondered if she would be round like the nut, would she be brown, was she little?  I was disappointed to see that she was just a normal person who just wanted to talk to my parents.

     There was a man named Lou who periodically came to our home. He seemed to be a close friend of my mom and dad.  He would drop by during the day time, around lunch time, when my parents would both be there.  He was a very happy person, and would greet my brother and me. When he was about ready to leave, he would reach into his pocket and pull out a silver dollar and hand it to me.  I really liked having Lou come.

     My mother spoke a little French. She was actively involved in some local social organizations, and went to meetings frequently. One day she told me that a lady from France was coming for luncheon and that I was invited.  This was a school day, and I always came home for lunch.  Mother told me her name, I think it was Madam Bertillion, or something like that.  I never could remember it. It sounded like the soup we had sometimes, buillon, so that is what I called her (but not when she was there).  Again, I wondered what a lady would be like if she were named after soup.  She turned out to be nice, but didnt talk or even look at me except when we were introduced. She talked funny, too, in a high, breathy voice.