A Rundown of 2010

Perhaps because of all the huge and amazing things our family experienced in 2009, I thought we would have similar experiences in 2010. Years are different though...just like people. There are exciting and fun years and there are years filled with sadness and hard things. Some years are sort of boring, not providing loads of memorable experiences and some years are a mixture of ups and downs.

2010 went by so quickly and seemed so full of things, good and bad that I wanted to recap for myself some of the events. As I thumbed through my 2010 planner a few memorable times stood out:

We started out the year in anticipation of sending Bryan off to Budapest, Hungary. That was our main focus one year ago. His call came last December right after we returned from our Korea/Japan trip. So by January we were busy purchasing missionary items and getting Bryan packed for his March 10th departure.

Those months at the MTC and then off to Hungary were filled with learning and joy and, unfortunately, also physical pain as osteoarthritis plagued Bryan's knees. He was examined by an orthopedic surgeon in Budapest, had an MRI performed, and was sent home at the end of July for bilateral knee surgery. For months Bryan has been doing physical therapy. He saw his orthopedic surgeon for the final visit on December 29, 2010 and was told (again) that he will not be able to return to Hungary. So his focus now is being a student at the University of Utah starting January 2011 and hopefully resubmitting missionary papers for another area (one he can ride in a car and not spend 10 hours a day walking stairs).

Another event of 2010 which I recall fondly, is our trip to Baltimore/Pennsylvania/DC/NYC and Franklin/Nashville in March and April. Rob, Cami and I had a marvelous time visiting Dani and Kelly in their new home state of Maryland. Every day of the vacation was filled with day trips and adventures. On our way home, we made a side journey to see Rob's brother in Tennessee. Now at the end of 2010, Dani and Kelly are here at our house to wrap up another year with us. They've been here since December 23 and we've enjoyed every minutes of these days together.

Camille got her driver's license in 2010. She wasn't all that interested in driving when she turned 16 in '09, in fact, she preferred someone drive her everywhere, but about six months later she decided she did want her license and so she took the test (more than once) and obtained her learner's permit. After six months, she was finally able to get her license and now she drives all the time. Cami and her cousin, Lindsey, spent the month of July 2010 at their Uncle Kevin's and Aunt Tanja's in Franklin, Tennessee. Cami had access to a Rav 4 and drove herself and Lindsey all over for those four weeks.

We did some remodeling projects on our house in 2010. We painted the entire upper floor and had new hardwood and carpet installed. Since Bryan's been home we've also refinished his furniture and repainted his walls and ceiling.

The garden is an annual event for me, but in 2010 I branched out and planted some different items which will become staples of future gardens. We had a record-breaking raspberry year in 2010, but as winter enfolds us today, the garden of 2010 is just a fond memory and the garden of 2011, a pleasant anticipation.

The 2010 Stake Indexing goal of 2,000,000 names has been a big part of my year. I have indexed nearly 37,000 of those names personally, but there are some stake members who have been absolutely amazing in their efforts to take us to our goal. With one day left we only have 5,351 names remaining in what seemed like an unobtainable goal even one week ago.

My niece, Amanda, was married in May 2010. This pulled family members to Utah for the event. I traveled to Arizona in September to see my Mom, she came to Utah once during the year too. We had Rob's Mom live with us for a while after she fell and broken pelvis in October.

I attended my 30th Class Reunion this summer and was also able to spend some quality time with my best friends from school a week later. I lost a couple of friends this year. Natalie Jolley passed away on August 14 and Bettie Hoenhe passed on December 10. I miss them both and look forward to those reunions beyond this life. I made some new friends this year and am truly grateful that I have such amazing people in my life to look to as examples.

Happy New Year everyone!

SpudNuts and Gallon Glass Milk Jugs

Those who lived in and around Delta, Utah in the early 70s may remember what a stir was caused when a SpudNut shop opened up in town. It is easily compared to the excitement generated along the Wasatch Front when an In-and-Out Burger or a Crispy Creams opens. I recall trying to convince my parents that we should try donuts made from potatoes, they were probably really healthy. The shop had been in business for some time before I finally talked my Mom into stopping in at the SpudNuts store.

Even though I grew up on a small family farm, we never milked cows. The cows we raised were for meat and ended up in the freezer. My family always purchased milk from a local dairy farmer. When I was little we went to the Warnick Farm at the east side of Hinckley and bought raw, unpasteurized milk from them. That was what my parents had grown up drinking and so that is what they wanted. I remember a few times following one of the Warnicks out to the barn and watching them strain the milk and pour it into the jars we brought. At some point, the FDA shut down all those little Mom and Pop type dairies for selling unpasteurized products.

The shutting down of milk sales at Warnick's Dairy coincided with the opening of the SpudNut shop. Along with delicious donuts they also sold fresh, pasteurized, local milk. One day while we were in town grocery shopping, I convinced my Mom to buy the milk at the SpudNut shop and then we could pick up a dozen donuts too. It worked out well because my family liked the milk and I LOVED the donuts. A few weeks later we were at the SpudNut shop again, but she insisted we get milk only, no donuts. I asked her if I could go into the shop by myself and buy the two gallons of milk. She reluctantly agreed and handed me the cash. When I got into the store, I told the nice lady what I wanted and she sat the two gallon jugs on the counter and rang up my purchase. The way the store was arranged, I could look right out the glass wall behind the cashier to my Mom sitting in our car. I felt so proud that I could do this task by myself. Mom smiled at me as I paid for the milk and then took the two red plastic handles to pull the jugs from off the counter and carry them out the door. Everything had gone smoothly until those glass jugs came down weighing more or being taller than I anticipated and slammed into the tiled floor of the SpudNut shop. Both of them smashed simultaneously leaving me standing in a huge puddle of whole milk holding red handles attached to jagged broken glass jugs.

I've replayed this event in slow motion in my mind at least a million times. I was still looking into my Mom's face as the jugs slammed into the ground and I recall that her smile changed into a grimace before she climbed out the car and came into the store to apologize and to offer to clean up the mess. Two gallons of milk makes a big mess! I was crying when she came into the store so she sent me to the car while she tried to make amends with the cashier.

I do not recall ever going into the SpudNut shop again. Perhaps because we were banned or because my Mother was too mortified to ever enter the shop again? I'm not sure, but it was shortly after this event that we started buying our milk at Ekin's Dairy on the north end of town. It was on the road going out to the reservoir and it seems like we always hit at least one rabbit every time we went out there for milk. I hated that drive and I missed the chance to buy donuts along with our milk. Curse my wimpy arms and short legs!

Mimi

Almost four weeks ago Rob's Mom came to live at our house for a while. Earlene is 87 years old and has been remarkably healthy until she took a fall in October and broke her pelvis in two places. Since then, she has seemed frail. It also seems her memory has slipped quite a bit. At first we thought perhaps it was the pain medication she was on, but she only took the Percocet for a few days because it was causing too much trouble with her stomach and her mind.

After a couple of weeks of home health care, physical therapy, and Rob's sister, Julie, trying to spend as much time as possible at her Mom's house to help her out, we realized that she shouldn't be left alone any more so the decision was made to have her come live here while Julie and David finish the mother-in-law apartment in their house.

We all call Rob's Mom Mimi. When Kevin, her oldest grandchild, was a baby she tried to get him to call her 'Grammy', but it came out as 'Mimi' and it stuck. Now everyone calls her Mimi. Mimi is a wonderful grandmother. She has loved every one of her grands and they all think she is grand. She was a get-down-on-the-floor-to-play kind of grandmother. Her seven grandchildren all have such fond memories of playing 'city bus' on her bed with a round pillow as the steering wheel, Author's Cards, The Hair Net Lady, I Spy, Spoons and many other games.

It has taken a little getting used to having another person living at our house, but Mimi makes it as easy on us as she can. She is very unassuming and quiet. Rob brought her TV to our house and hooked it for her, so she spends a few hours of each day in room watching it. She goes to bed around 9:00 or 9:30 each evening and wakes up around 10:00 a.m. We have to remind her to eat. We believe the reason she has gotten so thin is because she just forgets to eat. She is diabetic, so this is a concern beyond weight. We keep popcorn, crackers, fruit, vegetables, sugarless cookies and hot chocolate mixes out on the counter and encourage her to snack in between meals.

We are happy to announce that Mimi's gained four pounds since she's been staying here. Perhaps having the Thanksgiving feast since she's been here helped. She loved the sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, rolls with lots of butter and stuffing covered in gravy and had quite a number of plates full of those things on Thanksgiving and for a few days following.

I took Mimi to Weber High School's production of White Christmas on December 3rd. She loved it! She kept commenting throughout the production how amazed she was at the talent of these young people and that it didn't seem possible that this was a high school musical. She tapped her toes and clapped her hands and truly seemed to enjoy the evening. Unfortunately, by the next day she didn't remember attending the program. She has become really forgetful. She knows she doesn't remember things and it really bugs her.

I guess there are some good things about Mimi's forgetfulness. She laughs at the same jokes over and over, the not-so-good things about her lack of memory is that she keeps asking the same questions over and over. She asks every day when we are taking her home. Hopefully we can make her comfortable and happy here and eventually she'll forget to ask that question. We love Mimi! We feel very privileged to have her staying here now and hope she'll remember it as a good time.

Bryan's Project

Bryan has been anxious to stay busy while he has been going through 12 weeks of physical therapy. He started back to work last month, he got registered for another semester of school at the University of Utah starting in January, but he decided he needed a project for while he is home. Thus, the ‘Remodel Bryan’s Room Project’ was born.

The furniture Bryan has had in his bedroom for nearly his entire lifetime, was some Ethan Allen pieces which had been in Rob’s parent’s cabin in Tahoe. They are nice, solid pieces of furniture, but they were pretty scraped and dented with all the moves and spending the last 17 years in a boy’s room.

So we purchased some stripper, plastic scrapers, three different grits of sandpaper, black paint, paint tray, rollers, mineral spirits and some new nickel hardware and we were off.

It took several coats of the Citristrip stuff we bought to remove all the old finish. I’m not sure if it is because the varnish was so ancient that it had practically turned to rock or if it was because we bought the most non-toxic stuff we could find. After scraping all the goo off, we wiped down the pieces with mineral spirits. Then we started with roughest grit sandpaper and went over every piece thoroughly then moved to the middle and then finest sandpapers until the wood was as smooth as glass. After a final cleaning, each drawer, door and frame received three coats of black paint.

We did four dresser pieces and a pedestal bed frame. After a thorough drying time, we attached the new hardware and the sprayed-painted old pieces we didn’t change out.

During the furniture drying time, we started on Bryan’s walls and ceiling. We filled holes, sanded and cleaned and applied fresh paint. We did a focal wall a color called, Paprika. After all the painting was done, we cleaned his carpet, bought a new bedspread and decorative pillow, made and hung new curtains and moved everything back into the new room. We even put up a hook for Bryan’s Hungarian Whip to hang from because it is so beautiful it deserves to be displayed.

We've ordered some art work and have bought a new clock to hang on the walls. The changes make the room seem very grown up. There is only one Lego contraption on the dresser. All the other toys and little boy things have been put away.

School Days Part IV

I want to complete my commentary about school memories with the four years I spent at Delta High School.

After battling through the junior high years, high school was actually tolerable. I had struggled with shyness so much during my elementary and junior high years. When I was a sophomore, I finally decided I had to overcome that shyness and start getting involved and meeting and working with others.

I got involved in some activities which made high school quite fun. I sang in several musicals, I was FBLA president my senior year and a member of FBLA and FHA three other years, I was a Tall Flag Team Member my junior and senior years (an officer my senior year), I was in acapella choir and I was Business Sterling Scholar. These involvements helped to make things much more enjoyable.

One of the greatest things about high school was I figured out that I didn't have to be friends with only those of my own grade. I found fabulous new friends, older and younger, who added dimension to my high school years. The only regret I have about that is the reunions we have don't include other grades. I must look into what it would take to change that policy.

I still rode the bus to school most of my high school years. Only during Marching Band in the fall did I get a ride into school because it was an early-morning activity. We had some fun times, did some great shows, and made good friends in the marching band. I enjoyed the competition season when we would travel to Salt Lake, Provo, and Cedar City to compete with other bands in the state. A tradition was to stop at Trolley Square when we attended the U of U competition. Everyone would eat dinner and spend a little time shopping before catching the bus on up to the university. My junior year, we left two girls who didn't make it to the bus in time. We were going to be late for our check-in and inspection if we waited any longer, so Mr. Holt made the decision we would leave the girls and make the deadline. How much more simple this situation would have been if we had cell phones like every kid does now.

A major memory I have of riding the bus during high school was when I was a senior and my little brother, Mark, was riding the same bus going to first grade at Delta Elementary School. Hinckley Elementary had closed by then so all the Hinckley kids, K through 12 rode the same bus. Mr. Taylor took a dislike to Mark within the first week of school that year. I truly don't know how anyone couldn't love Mark. He was so cute, he was really small for his age, and he had a sweet, little innocent face. He did; however, have a very big voice for such a small child. So maybe because of the noise he made, Mr. Talbot assigned Mark a seat on the front row. He wasn't allowed to sit anywhere else on the bus. My other brother, Jim, was also a passenger on this bus each day during this time. Usually, both of them would be off the bus and walking home by the time I disembarked. One day when I got off the bus, Mark was standing there crying, with two long, red welts across his face. I was immediately furious and started questioning him. He told me about an older boy who had whipped him with a coat as he got on the bus and walked past Mark in his front-row seat. Mr. Taylor sitting right there in the driver's seat had not said anything, though I'm sure he would have seen it happen.

I immediately looked around for the kid because this was his bus stop too. I saw him about a half a block down the road. I started yelling his name and running towards him, when he turned around and saw me coming towards him, he started running. I chased him for about a block before I caught him. I spun him around, grabbed him by the collar, got in his face and asked him why he hit my little brother. He gave me a smart-mouthed answer so without thinking, I slapped his face. I gave him a shake and told him if he ever touched Mark again he would have to deal with me. Then I threw him to the ground and ran back to Mark.

As we walked home, the guilt started flowing. I knew this other kid's parents and I was sure his Mom was going to be angry at me for grabbing, slapping and throwing down her fourth grader. By the time we reached the house, I was in agony over my impetuous actions. I confessed to my Mom what I had done and she said perhaps I should call Mrs. Talbot and apologize for roughing up her son. I got on the phone and told her who was calling, expecting an immediate angry outburst, when she didn't say anything I started telling her about the situation. I first told her about her son hurting Mark and then what I had done in retaliation. As expected, she exploded. She screamed at me to never touch her son again. I yelled back at her to tell her kid to never touch my brother again. After our little shouting match, I slammed down the phone and marched off to my room. I knew I had mis-handled the problem, but as a 17-year-old I wasn't equipped to deal with the situation.

Over the years of raising my own children, I've thought about that experience many times. I know I've had terrible 'Mother Bear' tendencies to protect my own at almost any expense. I hope that I've learned some discipline and restraint so that I don't enrage other mother bears in my quest to guard my own cubs.

I guess, like everyone else, I gained an education in high school. That education isn't just from books and teachers at school. I hope I can remember the lessons I learned riding buses, roughing up town kids, dealing with angry moms and loving little brothers.

Memories Under Glass

One year ago at this very moment, Kevin, Bryan and I were in a plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.

We flew out on the morning of November 19, 2009 bound for Seoul, South Korea and in the process completely lost November 20th because when we landed it was late evening of November 21st. Poor Bryan lost his nineteenth birthday someplace over the ocean a last year.

Does that mean he actually will only be turning 19 tomorrow instead of 20? Hmmm, I’ll have to give that some thought…

That trip with my sons was one of the all-time favorite things I’ve ever done in my life. We had such adventures in Korea and felt Kevin’s love of the country and its people as he worked so hard to make sure we got to see, hear, taste and touch all the things he remembered so fondly from his two years there. We weren’t there long enough to do that; a lifetime may not be long enough, but I will always remember the way Kevin was so intent upon every scene, word, tree, street, sign, restaurant, and person we saw. The most poignant of my memories of him was our last day in Guanju. We rode in a taxi, to take a bus, to ride a train, to pick up the subway, to catch the ferry that took us to Fukuoka, Japan. The whole day, Kevin was looking out the windows of all our transportation and just soaking in Korea.

Our adventure in Japan started with not being allowed into the country when we arrived, missing the bullet train and riding a bus all through the night across the country. The next day when we pulled into Tokyo and Mark found us, everything started looking better.

We spent five days seeing amazing and wondrous sights including the Imperial Palace, Shogun Castles, Buddhist Temples and gardens which were beyond compare. We will be forever grateful for the incredible hospitality Mark and Nana extended to us while we were there.

Of all the memories that stick in my mind, every one of them is combined with astounding autumn colors. Everywhere we went fall was at its height of glory. I gathered leaves each place we visited. A few of them are in a glass and wood frame hanging in my bedroom.

I’m so thankful we had this opportunity and a year later it is still as brilliant in my memory as the leaves of Korea and Japan in November 2009.

Pope Joan

I'm going to interrupt my trip down memory road to write a book review. I follow several blogs where books are reviewed and I have appreciated those critiques and recommendations.

Today I finished the second of my two Book Club selections for November. Pope Joan was a rich and fascinating work of fiction based on historical facts which Donna Woodfolk Cross spent many years researching. It is the tale of a girl whose origins should have kept in in squalid domesticity. Instead through her intelligence, indomitability and courage, she ascended to the throne of Rome as Pope John Anglicus.

Joan assumes the role of her brother who is killed in a viking attack. She dons her brother's clothing, cuts her hair and goes to a monastery for protection and education. Her sharp mind takes her places she could never have gone as a female in 814 AD.

It really was an interesting story and the Author's Notes and Reader's Guide at the back of the book add a dimension to the tale as Ms. Cross sites references and proofs of the reality of a female Pope and what the Catholic Church has done in the years since to bury the evidence that it truly happened.

School Days Part III

Moving on from elementary school to junior high was a distressful event. This was mostly because the Hinckley students had been isolated while the rest of the West Millard students had all been integrated into Delta Elementary years before. It seemed that we were the new kids, alone against a large group who were already acquainted with one another.

Another trauma about junior high was that there wasn't a separate building for the students, we were thrown right in with the big kids at the high school. The junior high had two hallways of lockers at Delta High School. That changed while I was in high school and they built the Middle School, but for my part it truly was stressful and upsetting to go straight from sixth grade to mingling with high schoolers. The older kids teased and tormented in a way I had never experienced in my life (as I was the oldest in my family). I was a homely and shy kid so being in this environment just accentuated my awkwardness and seemed to make me a target for additional teasing.

A third terrible thing about junior high was I had to get up so much earlier in the mornings because I had to ride the bus from Hinckley to Delta AND I had to do chores before I could catch the bus. Seventh grade was the beginning of my 4:30 a.m. arisings; to this day I have not been able to disable that internal alarm clock.

In the fall and spring waiting at the bus stop wasn't too bad, but the winter months were unbearable. I remember that dusty, frozen snow blowing around us as we stood and waited. Arlo Taylor, the bus driver, wasn't known for being punctual so there wasn't a 'set' time he was at our stop every morning. Some days he would come early and we would be running up the street to catch the bus. Many of those mornings, he didn't wait, he would close the bus door and drive on down Main Street. Luckily, we could cross the street and wait on the opposite corner and he would usually stop and pick us up on his way back as he headed to the highway. Other mornings, we stood and waited for an inordinately long time. You can bet no one ever asked him why his schedule was so random. I had seen him ban students from his bus for small infractions. I'm certain he would have considered questioning his driving as a major violation.

The first quarter of junior high school was quite a shock for me. The moving from class to class in the crush of bodies in the halls, large classrooms of pupils I hadn't known since kindergarten, no time off for finishing work ahead of the rest of the class, no creative outlets for acting, writing, coloring, dancing and all the things I'd come to love during sixth grade. However, I remember being pleasantly surprised when grades came out and I had achieved a GPA which placed me on the honor roll. At that point, I determined I would work hard and always have grades which allowed that distinction.

I've said many times in my life that there isn't enough money in the world to make me go back and be junior-high-age again. Sometimes I think maybe if I was paid a great deal, I would go back; hopefully I would be able to retain the knowledge and experience I've gained and make those years happier than the ones I remember.

School Days Part II

Here are a few more memories of Hinckley Elementary School:

Monty our make-believe monster on our coat room floor.

My friends and I drew a big face with marker using a hole drilled in the wood floor of our upstairs coatroom as the mouth. Monty was always hungry and we were constantly stuffing things down the hole, thus feeding Monty. Many of our school papers became Monty food. If a sweater or mitten spent more than a couple of days in that coat room, it got fed to Monty. One time (that I know of) that got us into some big trouble.

It would be very interesting to find out where all that stuff ended up. It had to have been a huge pile since there were five of us feeding Monty from fourth through sixth grade and we never did fill up Monty.

The Blue Willow Plate, Robin Hood and Little Women

When we were sixth graders, Mr. Farnsworth allowed his students to work on other projects (which had to be approved by him) when we finished our school work. Several of us would work as quickly as we could in order to have extra time. During that school year, we adapted three books into plays. We then assigned parts, rehearsed, came up with costumes and built scenery for our plays. It took two or three months for each one, but we ended up presenting three plays that year. I still remember how exciting it was being creative with our dialogs, costumes, props and backdrops. Hinckley Elementary had an auditorium complete with raised stage and a heavy, blue velvet curtain. It felt like the big time; we thought we were headed to Broadway with our productions.

Trilabites and other fossils

For some reason there was a large pile of slate rock behind the school. For months of my second grade year, I spent every recess out in that pile of rock smashing pieces together to split them apart on a quest for fossils. We found all kinds of little fish, leaves and occasionally a Trilabite. We would take them in to Mrs. Hales, our teacher, and she would make a fuss over them and then display the chunks of rock in the window sill by her desk.

For awhile I considered paleontology as a possible occupation, but by third grade I decided I didn't like being dirty and dropped that from my career plans.

School Days Part I

My blog friend, Tina, is from Abraham, another tiny Millard County town adjacent to my home town of Hinckley. Her most recent blog post reminiscing about her school bus driver, brought back memories of the Hinckley school bus driver. His name was Arlo Taylor, the thing I remember most about him was how terrified I was of him. Before I rode a bus (because I didn’t have to go into Delta until Junior High School), Arlo was the custodian at Hinckley Elementary School. That gave me several vulnerable years to develop a suitable fear of him so by the time I rode his bus, I wouldn't even make eye contact with him let alone say a word.

Because of my many memories associated with those school years, I decided to do a series of blog posts about attending school in Hinckley Elementary and Delta High School.

Here is the first in the series about Hinckley Elementary which was originally the Millard Academy completed in 1912. Later it became Hinckley High School and was used in that capacity until 1953 when it changed to Hinckley Elementary School. The community didn’t have enough students to warrant having a teacher for every grade so the second graders were split between first and third and the fifth graders were split between fourth and sixth. Even still, the biggest class I ever had was 18 students.

This is how the building currently looks with the doors boarded up and all the window missing. It was a beautiful, stately and well-proportioned building with many large trees surrounding it and a large playground to the northwest side and several baseball and football fields in the back.

I walked to and from Hinckley Elementary from kindergarten through sixth grade in every kind of weather. I don’t think it ever occurred to me to ask to be driven to school. We lived about a half mile from the school so it wasn’t a great distance, but the thing to bear in mind is that girls wore dresses every day no matter how high the snow was piled up or how hard that Millard County wind blew. Also for the first few years of elementary school, I walked back and forth for lunch each day too. Fourth grade was the first time I remember eating lunch at school. Hinckley’s cafeteria wasn’t in the school; it was a barrack building from Topaz Interment Camp which had been located west of town. The building had been brought from Topaz sometime after 1948 when the Japanese/American citizens who were relocated there for three years during World War II had finally been allowed to disperse.

A photo of Topaz camp circa 1944. One of these buildings served as my lunchroom at Hinckley Elementary School.

The Hinckley students would have to walk from the school along a sidewalk to the north of the school and wait in line outside for our turn to get a tray and collect our lunch from the counter before sliding into a long table and eating a hurried meal so there would be enough time to have fun on the playground. Some of my favorite memories of recess activities were playing Go-To-The-Bars on the swings. It was a tag-type of game where the one who is ‘it’ tries to catch someone who isn’t clinging to one of the metal bars between swinging. We had elaborate rules including having to swing at least once between the time ‘it’ ran from the end poles. The other favorite recess activity was spinning on the monkey bars. We used our coats to limit the friction and would use one knee up on the bar and then spin around and around. I would do it until I was so dizzy I couldn’t stand up, it was so much fun! It did cause a problem when we moved to Pleasant Grove in third grade because I tried to show someone the trick and realized the bars were closer together at that school when my nose impacted on the lower bar. I had never before or since seen so much blood as the day I broke my nose.

I loved all of my Hinckley Elementary teachers, but the two who stand out most in my mind was Mrs. Hardy, my fourth and fifth grade teacher and Mr. Farnsworth, my sixth grade teacher. They were both instrumental in helping me discover who I was and finding worth in myself. Mrs. Hardy died of cancer a few months into my fifth grade year and that was a monumental occurrence in my life. I still think about her often and miss her.

In addition to teaching sixth grade, Mr. Farnsworth was also the school principal. He was an amazing man. I understand he is still alive and about four years ago I wrote him a letter to tell him how much I appreciated his efforts on behalf of his students. Until Mr. Farnsworth started teaching me, I was convinced I was stupid. He made me realize that I had strengths and abilities and always praised me in a way that made me want to do even better. While in sixth grade, we had a school paper, we put on several plays, we learned and performed different dances and we decorated the bulletin boards in the halls of the school. The sixth graders also were in charge of keeping the school grounds looking nice. We had a day in the fall and a day in the spring when we brought rakes and shovels to school and worked outside all day cleaning and pruning and burning to keep the grounds looking nice. I have never before or since heard of a school that does that.

I still have dreams which take place inside the walls of Hinckley Elementary. Going to school there was the best thing about living in that tiny town. I am so grateful for the education I received there, for the friends I made there, and for memories which warm my heart all these many years later.

End of an Era

It is official. We are no longer the ‘Crushed Velvet Couch Crouchs’

Back in 1983 when Rob and I got married, we paid $50.00 for a long, green, crushed-velvet couch my boss was selling at his garage sale. It was our living room sofa for the first several years as we finished college and started our family. When we moved to Bountiful, it became our family room sofa when we purchased a new living room set of furniture. Our kids grew up playing on, watching TV from, making forts with, and jumping off of that big, green couch and I didn’t realize how much they had bonded with it.


One of Kevin's many cushion forts

Kevin reading to new baby brother on the end of the green couch

Dani assuming the favorite TV viewing position on the green couch

When we purchased a hide-a-bed sofa for the family room, we decided to get rid of the green couch, but because of the attachment we had formed with it during 15 years of ownership; we took it on a farewell tour around our neighborhood on New Years Day 1998.


After we took it to the kids’ schools, the church and many of our favorite neighbors’ yards and took photos, we donated the couch to Deseret Industries. I didn’t expect the outcry we received from our children. They were always making comments about how much they missed playing with the cushions and how they could stretch out on the green couch and how cramped the new sofa was, etc.


Our couch in the church parking lot

Kevin at his Jr. High School

Dani and Bryan at Bountiful Elementary

Some of our neighbors who joined in the fun of the couch tour

Just over a year later, we moved to Pleasant View and the kids would occasionally wax nostalgic for the green couch so when I started visiting teaching a sister in our new ward with a gigantic, orange, crushed velvet couch, I told her about the affection my family had for a similar piece of furniture. A couple of months later, she phoned me and said she wanted to get rid of the couch and wondered if I’d like to have it. I didn’t even hesitate, I said, “yes”! We found out when we went to pick it up that this couch was about two feet longer and at least 100 pounds heavier than the green couch (hard to believe there could be something bigger and heavier!).

We brought it home on Pleasant View’s Founder’s Day and watched the fireworks while sitting on it that night out in our backyard. The next day, it made its way into our unfinished basement.

Fireworks from the big, comfy orange couch

Over the ensuing years, the basement was finished around the big, orange couch. It was pushed from one place to another while walls were built, sheet rocked, mudded, primed, painted, moldings and doors installed, carpet layed, etc. It finally came to rest in front of Bryan’s TV/Video gaming center and has rested there for many years…until yesterday.

October 30, 2010 ended the era of big, long, heavy, old, crushed velvet couches at our house. The orange couch made its way out of the house with a brief stop out front for a quick photo shoot before it was tied into the back of the van and delivered to the Ogden Salvation Army.









So it is with a little melancholy, we wish adieu to our couches and move into the new era without crushed velvet furniture. To whomever ends up with our old velvet couches, we wish you many years of joyful couch-cushion fort-making and stretching-out without touching the ends of a couch and joy in not worrying about what a child can do to your furniture.

Hinckley Halloweens

Every year when the leaves change colors and fall off the trees, I think about being a kid and how much I enjoyed Halloween. It is far from being my favorite holiday now but growing up in Hinckley, it was a great day and night to be a little kid.

At Hinckley Elementary we wore our costumes to school on Halloween. Those teachers knew how to make Halloween a cool day. Midmorning, the fifth/sixth grades class started a parade and went through the fifth/fourth grades classroom. These kids then joined the parade and went through the second/third classroom adding those children to the back of the pack. Next it picked up the first/second graders and then finally down to the kindergarten room. After every kid and teacher in the school (which would have been about 70 people) was in line, we traipsed in all our glory, down to Main Street and promenaded for the townsfolk who assembled by the church, post office and store. We waved at our parents and all the old farmers and housewives who would stand on the sidewalk and watch the procession of children dressed in every kind of costume.

I always wanted to be a princess or a fairy or someone beautiful…wishful thinking for the homeliest child in the school. My fifth grade year, my mom used some kind of heavy, old fabric and made me a long, flowing dress. The material was off-white and not very pretty, but she dyed it royal blue which made me very happy. She also made me a crown. I thought it was wonderful; in fact, I wore that same costume again the next year but with wings and a wand.

After our parade, we wound around the block and back to the school from another direction. Then we had a massive party in the gymnasium. The PTA set up ‘fishing’ booths, ring toss, beanbag throw, and darts-at-balloons type games. It was a carnival-type atmosphere and I looked forward to it every year.

THEN, there was the trick-or-treating in the evening. I would meet up with one or more of my school friends and we would go to the non-scary houses in town. We learned there were some houses you just didn’t go to. After a few years, we figured out which homes had the best treats and started planning our route in advance to hit the good ones and skip the places where old bachelors and ornery ladies lived.

The second year I wore my blue-dyed long dress, it snowed and I recall how cold it was as the snow encrusted the bottom six or seven inches of the dress and froze into a ring around my legs. My Mom had tried to convince me to wear my coat, but I figured my wings wouldn’t look right over my coat, so I went without it and regretted it by the time we were a few blocks from home. That was the year I was literally frozen blue. All that snow on my dress caused the dye to run and it colored my skin blue for a few days.

My Mom didn’t believe in kids dressing up or trick-or-treating once they were out of elementary school. Lucky for me, I had a baby brother born the summer after I turned 10 so when he was two or three years old, my Mom let me take him around town to trick or treat. Mom thought I was being such a great sister taking Mark in his adorable little costumes to get candy, but I was totally cashing in because he was so cute, everywhere we went I would get a piece of candy too.

Fun times! I bet Hinckley is still a great trick-or-treating town. I'm pretty sure the old Hinckley Elementary School is haunted; it sure looks it! I wonder if I could borrow someone's sweet little kid on Halloween this year to go visit my old hometown?