New Phone...

I have had the blessing of being on my daughters cell phone plan this last year, she calls our phone a brick phone, because it only talks and text.  Our phone company, Cricket, merged with another company and upgraded.  Meaning our brick phones would not be working in about a month.  They offered us a new Smart Phone at a very low price, and to stay on the same family plan.

What a nice Surprise.....Its like having a small computer in your hand.  Never thought I would ever have one...They are too expensive to buy, and the plans are too expensive for me.  So this is a real treat.. I so appreciate Pauli and James working with us....Oh Yes Lynn has one too!

Growing up, our family phone was a Dial Telephone, with a wire to the wall.  At least four party's, or houses on one line.  You would lift the receiver and lessen to see if anybody elts was talking.  If not you waited for the dial tone, then  dialed the number you wanted, or you could call the operator for help.

I remember when Mom and Dad finally got a private line.. it was just for us to use. No noisy neighbors lessening to what we were talking about. No wonder TV shows have fun with the old country phones, and gossiping getting out, on a party line, that's the way it use to be.

Some one thought it would be a great idea to put a phone in a car.  A phone on a wire from the handset to the receiver.  It Worked, Expensive, a Novelty, Cumbersome,  and very few of them.  Then came the Brick size early cell phone,  like the one they used in the army.

Phones kept getting smaller, and better....As a young mother I thought the ladies were crazy taking a phone with them when they had to drive somewhere....it seemed to me that was the only quiet place I had, ...to be away from the house, and phone for a hour or two....I didn't see the logic of  taking the confusion with me all the time...

People are getting away from land lines (phones attached to houses) and just carrying their own cell phones.
Well here I am....My time has changed... and I am Carrying a Smart Phone in my pocket....too!


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Always Hope...

Years ago when I was a young adult, I found this clipping in a newspaper. I liked it so much that I placed it in clear plastic. Today it is almost dissolved into the plastic. But the meaning is still true...

"Every time you experience something bad, immediately blot it out with the memory of something good. Seek beauty--you'll find it in the glory of a sunset, the fragrance of a rose, the song of a bird, the handclasp of a friend. And before you know it, you will have created enough new brain cells to shove back into oblivion those which hold only the sad memories."

Playhouse...

I was watching a commercial on the BYU channel, where a dad was spending his time building a playhouse for his children. It brought back memories from my childhood. A neighbor 3 houses away from me had a beautiful wooden playhouse. It was one room, and had one electric lightblub. I was in aw, and dreamed of what mine would look like if I ever had one.

We lived on Main St, in the south end of Orem, in a new building area. I remember we had dirt streets for a long time, and the only house that had a cement driveway was next to ours, the whole neighborhood of kids roller skated,(skates that clamped on shoes), or rode their trikes, or bikes on that driveway.

Out in back where houses had not been built yet, was flat land, of high weeds. We would often stomp out rooms for play houses there. One could sit down on the ground and not be seen. Tall round top weeds made nice umbrellas to play with.

Some of the area was flat enough that the neighborhood kids would play baseball.
I was never very good at this, I think because I was so young, Kindergarten and first grade. But they kept asking me to play, and giving me a chance to bat. I don't remember ever hitting the ball.
Or we would play King of the Hill, on top of high mounds of dirt that the builders had plowed out for building houses.

In the summer we often slept outside on the lawn. I love it. A sleeping bag was a wonderful and new thing, I was quite impressed when I received my first one.

Our land area, had been farm land. We had nine fully grown peach trees. And two apricot trees that grew up in my sandbox. As I use to play with the apricot pits, when mom was canning in the fall time. Our land was watered by irrigation. So ditches were common then. As children we would create all kinds of boats to float on the water. And sometimes we would end up wading in the water. That came to a end when mothers were told that the Polio bug could be found in dirty water. I don't know if that is true or not, Polio was very scary then, I had school friends that came down with it. Families were frighten because there was no cure, and it was new, and no info on it. Children were dieing or being paralyzed from it.

Valentines...

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

I remember Valentines day as being very speical as a child. We not only took valentines to school for our class mates, but would hurry home to take valentines around the neighborhood to our friends. It was alot of fun, placeing our valentines on the front porch of our friends, knocking on the door, and running as fast as you could, so you wouldn't get caught. (How ever your name was on the back of the valentines). Then at home you waited for valentines to come to you and after the knock, quickly opening the door to try to catch kids running away. Often no one was insight, just the beautiful valentines on the porch. Sometimes when you would reach to pick them up, they would skoot away, being pulled by a string around the corner of the house. It was usualy a boy or two, playing tricks, and if you were fast enough you could catch the valentine before it disapeared.

I remember it seemed forever writing the names of my friends and class mates, and then my own, on the back of eack valentine. Mom would say it was good for me to improve my writing skills, and would offer me a cookie.

I have no idea what children bring their valentines home in, from school, now days, or even if they still do.
I remember being very young when a valentine box was needed in class. Each student was to have a decorated shoebox, which his valentines would be put into. These boxes would be judged, to find the prettiest.
I watched my mother very carefully decorate my box with white, and pink, crapepaper.
wrapping the box in the white, and carefully glueing pink crapepaper ruffels around the top and bottom of the box. After makeing a hole for the valentines to slip through, she glued little red and pink hearts on top. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.....I was so impressed with it, that when I had a little girl of my own, who needed a valentine box, I decorated it the same way my mother had made mine.

As my children grew older, the Valentine box was no longer needed at school, and was replaced with large red hart folders made from paper with their names written on the outside. Then there was a large folded over paper with their name on the top, decorated by crayons. and last was just two pieces of paper stapled together, with a name on it.

I loved my valentine box my mother had made...I think I remember her saying that she was also pulling a memory of her own, as she loveingly created this for me.

Finding a True Gold Mine...

One night while I was sleeping, a thought came to me that I needed Jennifer, my daughter, to look at some letters that belonged to my Dad. After a couple of days, I remembered Dad's old worn out suit case that was down stairs. It was brown, medium size, and looked like it might have been made mainly out of a thick cardboard, with a little leather here and there, and a thick leather handle. It was falling apart,after all it was somewhere around 86 years old.

Jennifer came here to do some Genealogy, before going home to Arizona.
I asked her if she would like to find a gold mine? Not realizing what a true statement that was. We took the suit case out of plastic bags, where it had been placed to protect it while moving. We carefully opened it. Seeing with in it, unorganized papers, letters, and pictures.

Sorting, and organizing, mostly letters, we found these letters were written during my Fathers, Cecil Smith Brimhall, mission to the Central States Mission, back in 1921.

I read letters from my Grandmother and Grandfather Brimhall, Ether Record Brimhall and Sophronia Lydia Smith, whom I have not met, and lately have a deep warm love for them. I saw a scribble drawing that my fathers brother, Henry, sent to him when he was 5 years old. When I met Henry Brimhall, He was a tall good looking Fireman, that had kids older than me... We found letters from other members of his family, but I was touched by the simple encouragement, and love of his mother, as she kept encouraging him to be strong, and in sharing his testimony of Christ. She also tells of events that are happening in the family, and they were working on their Genealogy, having 149 names to submit to the temple. I think Grandma was teaching a Genealogy class once or twice a week, she would refer to them as "Cottage meetings".

And to my surprise we even found a letter written by my mother, Ivie Hartley, just a couple of weeks before their marriage, in the Manti Temple, in 1929.

Working for about 6 to 7 hours, Jennifer and I, have just scratched the surface of whats there.

Wow...What a wonderful, and awesome Goldmine....

One of those funny things...

As I have mentioned before, Moms family were very close to each other. They lived in a modest home, where love and laughter were companions, and the seven siblings grew up being the best of friends.

One of the things I noticed about my mothers family, was if someone did something very nice for another, the one who was the receiver of the gift, sometimes knowing of the expense that was sacrificed, would often try to help with the cost, by donating part of the money involved. To which the giver often would sneak the money back in some way without the receiver knowing about it, like in a pocket, or purse, or perhaps in a bag that was carried, or a book, or shoe. Until later on when they would accidentally find it. Well much to my surprise, that tradition is still in existence. A year ago I was helping my 2nd cousin with pictures for her book. I had a box, and a scrapbook that my mother had kept. My mother was very good at keeping inventions, clippings of newspaper articles about the family, announcements etc.
My Cousin Dorothy, and her daughter, Fran, spent countless hours working on the book about the family, and putting all these extra clippings of mom's into top load sheets and putting them into a binder, so they would be protected. They even bought the binder and the top load sheets. I gave my cousin $10 dollars to help with the cost, that's all I had at the time. Tonight, One year latter, my daughter Jennifer was looking through some things and said "Mom, did you know you have $10 in this box?"
I thought I was the smart one, and had gotten away with it, but you know... you can't out smart a fox!

Update: As of last night, the money is back in their court!

Mom's stiches...

My mother loved to crochet, When I was young, and her eyesight was good, she would crochet alot of different doilies from crochet thread. In those days Ladies would decorate their tables, end tables, couches and chairs with crochet doilies, of one form or another. I would often come into the front room and find starched doilies stretched out on wax paper, with straight pins pulling them tight, pined to the carpet on the floor. When they would dry, they would be stiff and hold there shape. Mom and her sisters would often give each other gifts of their hard work. They would roll them up on paper,or wax paper and place them inside a tube for mailing or giving as a gift.

Sometimes Mom would let me take her work and add, or learn how to do the stitching she was working on. Latter when her eyesight was a challenge she crocheted with yarn. Finding it pleasing to her, and alot faster, she started to crochet afghans. Her first two were full size afghans. they were given as gifts, placed on couches, sat on, washed over and over, and ruined. From that time on Mom only crochet half the size. So if someone wanted to put it on the couch, it wouldn't be sat on.

Mom liked to quilt. Mom and Dad lived during the depression,and there were times where money was scares. Often the things you had, where what one created with their own hands. I remember 2 quilts she had made from levies. I had them on my bed. Once they were warmed up in the winter, (Utah winter, and the thermostat was turned down to 60 degrees.) you toasted all night. They were heavy, but I Loved them. Mom made many quilts, I would come home from school and Mom would have a quilt set up in one of the bedrooms. RS sister, and friends, gathered for quilting and lunch. I learned the fine art of quilting from her at that time.
I am very lucky to have in my position 2 quilts, 2 afghans Mom had made, and doilies she had crocheted.

Mom also had a Singer treadle sewing machine, just like the one in the picture. It was on Mom's treadle sewing machine that I learned how to sew. Latter on, Mom traded her Singer for a electric sewing machine for me. I have been blessed with the gift of sewing. I have made wedding dress, and formals, being some of the hardest. (I have 4 girls). Although I am thankful to have a nice machine to use, I have always wish I could have kept Mom's treadle machine...

A Prophet for dinner...

My Primary teacher often made the comment, what if Jesus came to our home for a visit!.. that would be great!..... But for me, I have wondered what it would be like to open the front door and see the Prophet, stopping by for dinner, and a enjoyable evening with me, and my family.
My Grandmother, Sophronia Lydia Smith, (who married Ether Record Brimhall) was a cousin to President George Albert Smith. Besides being family, President Smith enjoyed the company of my Grandparents. My Dad said that President Smith would often stop by, and have dinner and spend a evening visiting with them.

My Grandparents had 13 children. Grandpa Brimhall's, brother's wife died, and could not care for his children alone. So my Grandparents took his children and raised them as their own, making 19 children in the home. Dad said when the dinner bell rang, you got to the table, or went with out. I asked how the family managed with so many children in the house? Dad said that the older ones helped to care for the younger ones.

I thought it was interesting that both my Grandmother, and my Grandfather Brimhall, had collage degrees. Grandfather was a school teacher, and well liked by all, He seemed to have a good sense of humor, and was one of those folks who seem to attract people to him.

A moment in time...

Back in 1921, Dad was on his way home from work, when he noticed someone who was trying to start a business as a photographer, by offering a free picture.

So dressed in his work cloths, of that time, he posed for the photographer. The results has been one of my most favorite photos of my Dad. Cecil Smith Brimhall.

According to the date on the back of the picture, July 23, 1921, Dad would have been about 19 years of age.

Pockets full of pebbles...

As I have mentioned, my mother's family was pretty close to each other. One couple mom and dad visited rather often was Mom's brother, Uncle Elton and Aunt Bernice Hartley. When I knew them they had a home on the Avenues, on the mountain side, in Salt Lake City. Mom and Dad lived in Provo, about 42 miles south of SLC. Back in those days folk didn't lock their doors and when they would go to visit, and not find them home, you could walk right in and leave a note. However it was not always a paper note, that Mom's family left.
Dad said he would find small pebble rocks in his pants pockets, or lumps of cole in his suit coat pockets. Mom and Dad had put Uncle Elton and Aunt Bernice's kitchen chairs, on top of their table. Or short sheet their beds. Dad said it was common for him to find his pant legs tied in knots, and penny's in his shoes. Or to come home and find their living room furniture had been rearranged.

Uncle Elton and Aunt Bernice's youngest daughter was named Lola. She was 6 months older than myself. Being the youngest in my family, and not having any sisters I really looked forward to the friendship of my cousin. (We still keep in contact with each other.) We often spent summer time together. We both played the accordion, but she played 10 times better than I, and would teach me new things that I hadn't yet learned. The song "What ever Lola wants" was written about her, by one of their family friends.

I loved their home on the Avenues. Lola's bedroom was upstairs. You could look over SLC from her bedroom window. You could see the "Walker Bank" neon sign, high up in the air on top of a tall 20 story building, called Walker Tower, built in 1911. It would change colors, Red or Blue, blinking or still, telling folk what the weather was going to be, depending on the color, and if the sign was blinking or not.
It was one of my favorite memories, to sit by the low open window at night,watching the Walker bank sign, feeling the cool breeze on my face, and talking with my best friend about girl things.

Pinching cheeks...

I often find it interesting to just listen to the younger generation, about how women's makeup should be applied today. Take the art of Blush for example. I remember my mother talking with her sisters about when they were young, how it was the custom to pinch their cheeks to make them turn pink. (You can still see this in some of the old movies.) Pink cheeks made one look healthy, and happy. I guess someone figured out that the use of lipstick worked great, and was easier on the tender skin than pinching. So a dab or two of lipstick, then smearing it into the skin worked very well. It worked so well, that the next thing you saw was called "Rouge". Lipstick poured into a little dish, compact, or pot. (still wet and waxy) Applied by dipping your finger into the Rouge, and applying it to the cheek. Next came "Blush", A powdered form of Rouge. A great idea, but I had to get use to the name, It was first applied with a makeup powder puff, and now with a makeup brush. Very easy to apply, and beautiful to look at.

Where to put Blush has been interesting as well. Of course as years turn, each group has to do something different in application, and it has to be the "Now Thing". Sometimes I think women get confused.
I have seen Blush applied to the upper part of the cheek, under the eye, and maybe a little to the side of the eye. Causing one to focus on the warmth of the eyes.
Next has been Blush applied to sides of cheeks, and middle of face, forehead, end of nose and chin. I don't know why, it was told me to keep a healthy look...hum..
The one I can't figure out is the Blush streak almost from corner of mouth, straight line passed the corner of the eye. Still little popular, but to me it doesn't bring out the best looks in a woman, it just causes people to stare, and not see who is wearing it.
There is also those who wear Blush on the bottom of the cheek. It looks OK, but sometimes gives a wearing of sunglass suntan look.

Blush is a wonderful thing. As the years past, I am finding the color is fading from my face, and a few more, what they call happy lines?? running across my forehead, and elts where. Its nice to be able to add a little color, and to feel better about myself.

A Mouse in the house...

My mother's oldest sister, Mamie (Mary) Swapp and her husband Joe Swapp, who at one time was the mayor of Provo, owned two homes, one was in Vivian Park, in Provo Canyon. This was a place where the whole family loved to be. Up the canyon, where you were in the Mountains. And the smell of the pine trees, and feeling of the cool breeze in the evening. It was very dark at night for there was no street lights there. They had a little creek that ran down the mountain side, just behind their back fence. This was a very comfortable home, it had two bedrooms, but it also had a bed on the large front screened porch, and one in the inclosed back porch. The home was mostly heated by a fireplace in the front room. which they burned cole and wood. In the Kitchen was a cole stove for cooking and heating of the home. This cole stove was an interesting experience to try to cook on. Uncle Joe loved to make sourdoe pancakes, he would tell us stories of making the pancakes while sheep herding early in his life. He would fry pancakes for you, until you could hold no more.

This place holds many bright memories.
The neighbor who lived next door had a gentle heart, and had compassion for animals. He had a love for humming birds. All around his yard was placed small bottles on sticks, filled with sugar water. (about 60 or more). There seemed to be hundreds of humming birds in his yard. They would follow him, sit on his hat, or shoulder, and sit on his hose as he was watering the flowers in his yard by hand. He even had a sparrow for a pet. Hurt and abandon, and unable to fly, this baby bird was raised and cared for by this man and his wife. Years later when a mother deer was killed, this man took care of her fawn until he could be on his own. As a youth I learned the sweetness of kindness.

Someone in the Hartley family had created a marble and dice game called Wahoo.
(I have seen similar games by other family's, since). It was not unusual for mom's family to meet once a week and play Wahoo. Each family had their own game board.
I remember one time when some of the family, was playing at Aunt Mamie's home in Vivian Park. As the game was being played, it was interrupted by a mouse that had run into the house. Folks armed with brooms, or sticks, or anything they could get their hands on, were chasing this poor mouse all around the room. To me these "older folks" were laughing so hard they couldn't stand on their feet, and the mouse was frantically trying to find a way out, or a place to hide. After a good half hour the mouse ran for his life out the door. I don't think anyone had the strength to swing at him, for their sides were hurting too much from laughing. I don't think there were any intention of hurting the mouse, they were just enjoying each other. That was what mom's family did. After a few breathers, the Wahoo game continued.

This was the same home that Lynn and I were to stay at, on our wedding night. After our reception, the church had to be cleaned because of another wedding planed for the next day. In the early hours of the morning, around 2:00 am, while still dressed in my wedding dress, and Lynn in his suit. We arrived at the home. getting everything out of the car that we would need, Lynn put the key into the doorknob, and it broke off.
Checking all around, there was no other way into the house. Putting everything back into the car, driving back to Orem, and feeling hungry, we stopped at a sandwich shop. Lynn went in, I was still in my wedding dress and stayed in the car. Then we drove to the little home in Lehi that we had rented. We were announced to the neighbors of our arrival, by the rocks in the hubcaps.. We had to use camping lanterns, because the electricity, and gas were not turned on yet.
Latter we found out that the home in Vivian Park had flooded that night, by a broken water pipe.

Vivian Park had a large pond. In the summer you could go boating and fishing. In the winter we would go Ice skating on it.

Trains, Trains, and more Trains...

As far back as I can remember, my Dad worked for Union Pacific Railroad, in Provo Utah. Mom and I would drive Dad to work in the mornings. Down to the railroad yard, across two sets of huge groups of tracks, with trains moving on them all the time. (Today there is a viadok,or bridge, over the main tracks.)
I remember how huge, and fast the trains were, and how careful we had to watch out for them. My favorite were the steam engines. especially one called #4. He was a small engine and well liked by everybody. They kept him mostly in the yard for help. You could always hear his bell ringing, and I always looked for him. At this time the Diesel trains were becoming very popular, and slowly the steam trains were being cut up and scraped. It was a very sad day when #4 life was ended to.
My brother Ivan also worked for a short time at the railroad. He worked the turntable. I had the privilege of being with him in the cab of a steam engine, as he move the huge train on to the turntable, and the turntable turned the train to the line in which it was to go. I also got to see the roundhouse, and saw some on the trains being disassembled there.
Because Dad worked for the railroad he got to ride the trains free. Mom and I were half price. I remember Mom, Dad and I, riding passenger trains to California. Dad and I would go up to the dome cars (train cars that had upstairs, with seats, covered with a glass dome.) So you could see everywhere. We would sit up there and Dad would teach me the light signs that the engineers would read. No Computers back then. I could tell what was happening on the track, and why our train was doing different things. Trains are big, heavy, fast, and takes a long time to stop. They were put in areas where alot of people were not, because of accidents, involving careless folks. When you ride, You get to see beautiful scenery, that is mostly away from roads, and sometimes you saw into peoples backyards and how they were kept. We even skirted a forstfire as it was burning the mountain that the train track was on,and the ground still smoking where the track was, and raced along the ocean side at high speeds, in California. It was fun to walk through the train and see the different types of cars. Sleepers, Dinner, Passengers, and Dome. I also love observing those who worked on the trains. And the conductor, who seemed to be always present.
My brothers had alot of Lionel Trains sets, I wanted one so bad... but they were "boy toys" I never got a train set, until I was older, married. I did find a small Lionel engine in Mom, and Dads house that had belonged to one of my brothers. I kept it, they no longer cared about them. I wish I had more.
Last year Pauli took me to a model train convention, with displays, I bought my first "N" gage train set there. I just love it. I had the tiny train running around the bottom of my Christmas tree in December. I now have the one Lionel train, "G" scale, that was my brothers, I bought cars to go with it. I have 2, "HO" scale, trains, one diesel, and one steam. and one "N" scale, which is a steam model.

Sometime before I was born, Dad worked for Daleabout Bakery in Provo, where he learned the art of fine, good things to eat, and we, and the neighborhood, were blessed by his baking, most all of his life. It was not unusual for him to bake the pies for the whole neighborhood at holiday times. My Aunt Bernice Hartley was a wonderful baker, when I once asked her to teach me something she had made, she told me that everything she had learned, was from my Dad.

Dad had worked at a radio station in SLC. He had showen me the building, but I was to young to remember it. During the depression, Dad worked his horses helping folks dig the dirt out from under their houses so they could have basements. I know he did alot of other things to but these stick out in my mind.

When Dad was laid off from the railroad, he was close to retairment age and had Parkinson, his left hand, and arm shook. No one would hire him for work. So my mother had to find work for us to live. I believe I was in the seventh, or eighth grade when Mom went to work. Mom worked as a nurse for the Utah State Hospital, in Provo, until at the time she passed away from cancer in 1968.

The Catfish...

Before I was in Kindergarten, I remember my brothers riding their bikes to the boat harbor in Provo, and catching a large gray catfish with their hands. They brought it back home and I found it swimming in Mom's kitchen sink. When my mother found it in her sink, she made the boys remove it. Next I found him swimming in our bathtub, but shortly afterwards I saw him in a bucket outside, still alive. He could hardly fit in the bucket. I watched him sway back and forth, and I was amazed at the long whisker's he had. I had never been so close to a live fish before. My brothers said they returned him to the river....I sure hope so.

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far away...

I am the youngest in my family, a girl with 4 older brothers. My youngest brother was a premature birth and died before birth, which left 11 years between myself, and my next youngest brother. When I came along I was a surprise to my mom and dad. Mom had not planed on having any more children, and had given away all the baby things. And then to top it off I was a girl. So I ended up getting new girl things.
In those days you could not tell what the baby was going to be. So when I was born Dr. Smith said to mom "You finally got what you wanted!". Dad had been at the hospital for a while, and because he had been at work, he was very tired. The Dr. said I wouldn't be coming til morning, and for him to go home. (fathers were not aloud in the delivery room at that time). He had just gotten to sleep at home, when word came that I had arrived, he had to get up go back to the hospital.
I don't know how long Mom stayed in the hospital, at least a week, as that was a length of time given to mother when I was around 5-7years old. When I had my own children the hospital stay was about 3 days. Now its one day or in and out within 24 hrs.

I don't remember a lot about those infant years.
We lived in a home in Provo Utah, that my Father had built. My brothers, Bob, Ivan, Verl all had bedrooms downstairs, and I am told they had made a darkroom under the stairway, to do photography. Mom and Dad slept up stairs, and I slept on a coutch in the front room. I remember sitting in the doorway of the front room, watching it rain, when a bright lightening bolt struck the power pole across the street, and a big fireball rolled down the wires away from our house.

We lived in this home in Provo, until about the middle of my Kindergarten year of school. Then Mom and Dad bought a brand new home in Orem Utah. I lived there until I was married in 1965.

I was born April 12, 1944 at Utah Valley Hospital in Provo Utah. I was the only one out of my siblings that was born in a Hospital.