Fall 2013

Pumpkins began turning orange in August.  And the garden produce came in such abundance, it was more than we could consume or even give away.

I haven't canned in recent years but I broke down and made Megan's "Awesome Salsa." Had to borrow my neighbor's canner. Mine wasn't as awesome as Megan's.  : )

 We loved the summer squash, cut in four or five lengthwise slices, drizzled with olive oil, then barbequed and sprinkled with coarse salt. Sometimes we did sweet onions, eggplant, mushrooms along with it.

Los Angeles County Fair

Los Angeles County Fair arcade, c. 1958

Many lessons we don't remember learning, but this one I do.

Every September we rode with our parents across LA, the car windows down, to the Los Angeles County Fair in Pomona.  We knew the routine.  We split up in pairs with our allotted $1.50, supplemented by a few of our own quarters and we ran off to see the sights. At the appointed time, we checked back in with Dad or Mother by the Big Clock. After reporting, we took off again.  I usually went with my older brother.  We both liked the model train displays, and we always wandered by the animals and fruit exhibits in the big halls.

 One year, we went to the carnival, the Fun Zone.  It was busy and bright and noisy. We eyed the makeshift rides, the hall of mirrors, the games.  It wasn't the games themselves that intrigued, but the PRIZES.

Anyone who could knock down the fake milk bottles with a baseball could win a GIANT stuffed animal, the man in the booth promised in a loud voice.  A HUGE teddy bear or poodle or whatever.  The plush toys were crowded up overhead in each booth, bright in the lights, so beautiful and new.  Now and then a bigger boy and his girlfriend would walk by us, awkwardly carrying their enormous prize, smiling and laughing.


It was easy, and only10 cents per game.  I could toss a coin into an array of dishes or a tennis ball into muffin tins or bean bags into something.  I KNEW I could win. We chose a booth.  I tried once and was surprised to lose, but I was SO close. I played again more intently, more carefully.  And then again, almost winning.  My brother, bored, left me there, playing alone. I slowed down as I found myself with fewer coins until finally, they were gone.  All of them. But I still had hope. Carried along by my passion, I hurried to meet our parents by the clock.

My hope was this: Maybe they would give me my souvenir dollar. At the end of the day, we had a custom. We each got one more dollar to spend on a souvenir as we exited the big gate to the parking lot. So as we gathered at the clock, I asked, I pleaded with my parents to give me my final dollar there and then.  After all, a giant panda was going to be a much better prize than the little, celluloid kewpie doll I had planned on getting later. Finally, reluctantly my father relented.  "But you are not getting another dollar when everyone buys their souvenirs!" he warned firmly.

I ran off to win my prize.

During the long, hot ride home that evening, I refused to look over at my sisters who were playing with their feathered kewpie dolls or my brother with his treasure--a rubber, collapsible knife?  I didn't care.  I KNEW I could have won.  I KNEW it.  Just a few more dimes.  I COULD HAVE WON!

When was it that I realized my passion had been a lie?  Was I still young?  I think so, because the Fun Zone never again appealed. 

My Father

I've been thinking about my dad lately. He wanted to serve, to be helpful, to be useful.  

Dad was happy.  He had a corny sense of humor and he liked to laugh.  He got "a kick out of things," as he would say.  He was honest.  He was clean.  In fact, he was disgusted by vulgarity.  I never heard him swear.  OK, once he called something "damnable."

He worked hard.  He went to work earlier than necessary.  He didn't shy away from any task. On Saturdays he worked in the yard, coming in dirty and sweaty and tired.  Even in his 70's he would help the "elderly" when they moved.

He was outspoken and he liked a little debate, but he was kind. If he had a spirit of competition he kept it in perspective. That is, he liked to win, but I never saw him vengeful, never tried to get back at someone, never hurt deliberately.

He swept the gym floor after Ward dinners, he took the Scouts to the Grand Canyon, he rode the bus with mother and others to the AZ Temple before they built ours in LA.  He taught.  He was the Bishop. He was on the High Council and in the Stake Mission Presidency.  He was a Temple Sealer.

He loved to grow a garden.  From our California yard he brought Mother the best and most beautiful camelias.  Of course, I think of him every single time I see one. 

He loved his family and worried over each one of his five children.  He was loyal to my sister, Mary, and patient with her.  He took his grand children fishing.

He wanted us all to be provided for and couldn't do enough.  When Mike and I were raising our family, Dad would show up with a crate of oranges or a large ham or 10#'s of cheese.  "These were on sale and I bought too many.  I have to get rid of them or your mom will be upset with me."

He was smart.  When we planned to start Senior Sampler he counseled us not to focus on our profits but to concentrate on providing a product people would value, to fill a need. And he was supportive. When we published our first issue, he stood out in front of the new Smith's and handed the paper out to shoppers as they came and went.

And he had faith.  During those days when he was dying of cancer mother told us he had become withdrawn and less talkative.  But when I walked in he perked up and was glad to see me and wanted to talk.  Mom was surprised but glad he liked my visits. Among other things I asked, "Is this a trial of your faith?"   He thought for a minute and said matter-of-factly, "No."

The doctors kept giving him pain meds but he protested that he wasn't in pain.  (A sweet  blessing.)  He wasn't a deceptive man, but sometimes mother would find his pain pills on the floor.  He would submit when she insisted he take it, but then, after she left he would spit it out--too tired to do anything but drop it.

He loved me.  Mom always said we were alike.

I felt him near after he died.  Among other things, I felt he wanted me to stop worrying about always looking for the discount or the bargain, something I learned all too well from him.  It was as if he told me it was OK to expect quality instead.

It's an odd thing to me that I don't miss him.  It's not easy to explain, but it's like he loved me so much that he doesn't want to add even an ounce of grief to my life. So it's OK.  With both of us.

Yellow : )

Church shirt

Watch

Tie, shoes

Car

Boat, truck

Sweater

Card from Rudi - 1978

                       A touching little note since her "new" house has been sold recently.

Mendon Roads

Foggy nights do beautiful things to the Valley.

Bird Count

 

I was so happy when Dave Kotter and his son Kurt invited me to come along on the mid-December 2012 BIRD COUNT.  The Birdwatchers in the area sign-up to cover an assigned area, and with list in hand, the literally count all the species they see on their list. I LOVED it.

We had to dress warmly. "Do you have Sorels?" I was asked.  Thanks to Gabby and Ben I could say yes.  

They spend all day at it and they're good.  A flock of little birds lands in the distance and Kurt can tell by they way they fly what sort of bird it is.  He gets out his scope to be sure.  In other cases he'll say, "Well, the eyes are yellow so I think it's a ________."  He can see the eyes?!

They use their phone app to call out certain kinds of birds, too.  SO interesting to me.  Since the bird count, this year they were so excited to tell me that they'd spotted a Snowy Owl.  A great find.  Birders from all over northern Utah came into the Valley to try to  catch a glimpse of it.

Snowy Owl picture from here.

Party, Party

After giving up on finding a cute pinata here in Logan, we made our own. JayCee Jensen, a YW in our Ward, helped me. The flower petals are made from slices of oatmeal boxes and each one holds a small bag or two of chips.  The candy is all in the center.  It was a HIT! (heh heh).

Altitude Design Summit - January 2013

The Makers of the Magic - Gab and Sara

Alt made me happy, seeing everyone at work and all the creativity and forward thinking.  Thanks to Sara and Gabby for all the work and for their generosity.

I love the family photo--everything from the colors to Zella's cute legs.


And thanks to Kenny for making me look good.   "When I am old I shall wear...a red hat."  --Jenny Joseph


photos: Jesse Engle, Justin Hackworth, Kenny Miller

Pack's Place

GG with Paul and Robin Rodgers. Missing my mother.

Oldest and Youngest

Robin Emily and Emily Jane, baby blessing day.