The Good (some of my best childhood memories):
• Picnic dinners with the family in East Mill Crick (Creek) Canyon
• Waterskiing at Pineview
• Being tickle-tortured by Diane
• The 4th of July parades and celebrations at East Mill Creek park
• Fireworks at Liberty Park
• The GrAnDe ‘Days of ’47’ parade!
• Playing croquet and badminton with the Close’s in their back yard
• Sliding down the hills on cardboard sleds at the gravel pit
• Pollywog Town!
• Shoe skates!
• Sandy teaching me how to eat cinnamon bears (you bite off their heads first)
• Being the neighborhood champion for riding my bike around the block without using my hands – at least 14 or 15 rounds
• Dad teaching me how to shore jump
• Mom taking me skiing at Alta on school days
• Learning how to make doll clothes on the treadle sewing machine
• Going as a family to see the Christmas lights at Temple Square
• Riding my tricycle up and down Evergreen Gardens with Jeff Wyler
• Sledding down the big hill
• Tickle-torturing Janis
• Getting a ride in the big bucket of Ivan Jensen’s tractor
• Walking to Grandma & Grandpa Davis’ house
• Sitting in the tree and eating so many cherries at Grandma’s house that I would get a stomach ache
• Eating so much raw rhubarb fresh out of Grandma’s garden that I would get a stomach ache
• Walking to church with Grandma and getting a piece of Blackjack gum (which I would have to spit out before going into the church)
• Making little pies with raisins and cinnamon sugar with Grandma when she would bake bread
• Thanksgiving with all my family – including grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles (and the cute little plastic monkeys that Grandma let me place around the punch bowl one year when there was a fierce snowstorm)
• Realizing my big brother Gene was one of my favorite people and best friends the summer before he left on his mission
The Bad (some of my not-so-great childhood memories):
• Pulling dandelion weeds and having an allergic reaction that made my eyes swell completely shut
• Having to go down to dad’s workshop to “look for a big stick – and make sure it has a nail in the end of it!” to take back to dad when I got in trouble. I never did find one with a nail in it….and I never did get a spanking with any kind of a stick
• Being tickle-tortured by Diane (any longer than 1 or 2 minutes)
• Walking to school in a mushy, slushy snowstorm carrying my violin, knowing I would be late, and taking a ride from a stranger who scared me half to death to teach me a lesson
The Ugly (it wasn’t always pretty):
• Turning on the hot water while taking a bath and scalding my hands and feet, resulting in 2nd and 3rd degree burns when I was quite little (I don’t remember this but have seen a picture or two – I think it was more traumatic for my parents)
• Falling down a steep, rocky slope while hiking in Parley’s Canyon, resulting in a concussion and tearing up my back and legs
• Falling backwards through some wire meshing down the stairs and getting stitches in my finger
• Falling off of a headboard while playing a game of ‘Follow the Leader’ with Gene, Diane and Sandy, and getting stitches
• Stepping out of the boat onto a sandy beach while on the ‘Friendship Cruise’ and cutting my foot open on a broken bottle (should have gotten stitches)
• My head-on crash with Gene on the tote-goats at Bear Lake which resulted in a concussion, stitches in my upper lip, a black tooth, an overnight stay in the Paris, ID hospital and a week of missed waterskiing
• Having a spring from a mattress coil into my foot while changing in the back of the van, resulting in stitches and 2 days of missed waterskiing
• Head meeting windshield (pre-seatbelt laws), resulting in a concussion, broken nose and stitches in my forehead and face
Is it any wonder my mother didn’t think I would look normal
when (and if) I grew up? Oh, and I am still ticked that I missed all those great waterskiing opportunities.
• Pulling dandelion weeds and having an allergic reaction that made my eyes swell completely shut
• Turning on the hot water while taking a bath and scalding my hands and feet, resulting in 2nd and 3rd degree burns when I was quite little (I don’t remember this but have seen a picture or two – I think it was more traumatic for my parents)
Keven has been quite accommodating over the years with my insistence that food be served in serving dishes at meals. Ketchup bottles, salad dressings, butter (and it must be real butter!) have to be in or on appropriate dishes as well. Of course it means that after a meal everything has to be scraped/ funneled/poked/crammed back into whatever jar or container it came out of, but it is worth it to me because the table looks so much nicer, and so of course, the food tastes so much better. I learned this from my mother who learned it from her mother who learned it from her mother, and I am told it’s because of the wee amount of Welsh blood that flows in our veins. I really like the fact that such a tiny bit of my ancestry can have such a major impact in my daily life. It makes me wonder about all the other things I do.