Continued fom the tablet notes written when ever

Mar. 18, 2010

Penny notified me I made a mistake on the date my parents were sealed in the Salt Lake temple. Thanks to her maybe I won't be causing a mess in Salt Lake City at the family history center . I'd hate to have that happen on behalf of me. The year was 1915 as they came from Texas not 1919. I could use the excuse I heard that "I pushed the wrong button". Now on with the story.

Dad farmed and had a dry farm either 300 acres or 500 acres that he and uncle Joe Slack worked. It could have been more with two farmers helping each other. I'm not sure what happened to the dry farm but I do know there was an awful commotion when "those terrible 'LAND BANK ' men took over our home and irrigated farm. Dad was left with a very small piece of ground called State land to farm. I believe the worst was for mom losing her home and having to leave it and go back to such a small place with additional children.

Dad got the two room house moved on to a piece of uncle Joe's farm land by the Twin Groves school. I suppose the lean too kitchen was a part of the old house and it went along. So the day came to move and I remember how we thought it would be really nice living close to the school yard and not have to fight for a swing and we could swing all summer.. How ever the swings were in the sun and got hot so we didn't swing as much as was first thought.

We were crowded into that place with six children and our parents. It wasn't the easiest to sleep with four girls in a regular size bed.

I wore stripped blue and white coveralls all summer probably because I was such a Tom Boy. That would also cut back on washing and ironing dresses.They also wore better than a dress and I had a dress for Primary and Sunday School.

Our under pants was made by mom from the Yellowstone Special flour sack's. Mom worked hard to remove the painted picture of a train and tracks from the cloth so we didn't have that on our behinds. They also had Red Rose flour sacks with big red roses. Mom baked bread and for our large growing family she used lots of flour. As the need arose for new "Bloomers" several sacks would be bleached and rubbed with home made lie soap to remove the printing. We had our petticoats made from the same fabric nothing fancy for us.

Mom sat up late at night often by the coal oil lamp mending and patching our cloths and especially on Saturday nights that we would all be clean and mended for Sunday school.

Baker could hardly wait for his knees to finally wear holes because he was so proud of the neat patches mom put on them. I don't think he worked at getting the holes any more than any other boy but he didn't mind the patches. What a compliment he paid our mother and I bet she worked even harder to make them very neat.

As I think back on my child hood I guess the happy times were those nights when mom would tell us about her childhood in Texas. I grew up thinking how little I had to give in my own story because I never knew all the snakes, marshes, alligators, wild boars, and other general stories told to us those nights by the flame from the coal stove are the coal oil lamp if we had oil for it. Many times those stories were told as she mended cloths, peeled onions for pickles and peaches and all the canning she did to feed the family. I loved the stories about their possum hunting at night with a light that they shown in the trees to catch the shine of the possums eyes. Then one of her brothers would shoot the possum. Her stories made up for the lack of light on those nights. Thru the years I've often thought about her life and I think she must have been home sick and the stories she told may have made her closer to her loved ones. Many times I saw her cry and go into bed for privacy. I didn' t under stand those tears as a child but I have learned what homesickness can do to folks.

Aunt Leah was a good women and aunt but was rather bossy at times which didn't always make for the best of sister-in-law feelings when mom was a young bride. How ever all that was put behind when aunt Leah was put in a nursing home to die mom and dad came to visit and mom wished she lived in St. Anthony again so she could take "Leah" home and care for her in her last days.

When I was not yet in school when mom went to work For the Associated Seed Company in St. Anthony. The name of her job was "picking peas". The ladies sat in front of a conveor belt and picked the trash out of the peas that would be bagged and shipped out for field planting. I don't know how many winters mom worked but I know it seemed for ever. Aunt Leah and Uncle Joe took care of us when dad was still in the fields or worked some place for a few weeks or went to Sugar City to haul beet pulp to feed the cows. Aunt Leah was good to us but Vern teased the day lights out of us. He'd tease about cutting our ears and noses off and where would we sleep when it got dark and no parents yet. We'd huddle together down in a corner by the wash stand and some times hard as it was we'd one are all cry. Then we were cry babies. I still feel that horrible feeling of being desserted. I took on many worries when I was a child that I still can't completley over come. Things like how would the folks pay the bills that kept coming. I guess that was one of the biggest worries and I still worry about finances. [That was when I was writing this I don't have those worries any more unless all falls apart in our country}. I worried about the crops not doing well and I couldn't ask for things unless I was desperate. I took on Ruth's worry about all of us catching the school bus and nagged Baker and Jack to hurry and change from chore cloths to school cloths so they wouldn't miss the bus.

One of the memories at Slacks was uncle Joe working with the honey bee's out in the orchard and his picking and storing the apples in the dirt cellar. We eat some of those apples in the winter as a special treat even though some were wrinkled and soft. We didn't dare not eat them if they were given to us are we'd not get more. In the spring many were fed to the pigs as they were spoiled and not for human consumption. They smelled really bad as they were fed to the pigs. I still think I smell those odors when I think about it. Most likely imagined but real to me. I still don't like a soft apple. We played in the orchard as it was shady and also in the holes in the hedge Slacks had down the south side of the yard.

The happy times I enjoyed would be when we stayed home with dad. He'd leave us in the house while he fed the animals but would return to us on those cold winter days. He kept the fires burning and we played the childhood things.

One of my early recollections was when I started school. Dad was a trustee for the school district and altho I think I'd have been a better student if I'd been allowed to stay home another year I started while still five turning six in late October. There were parents who thought if I went early theirs should also. Dawna Dayton with a January Birthday was allowed to start and her mom wasn't working except at home [a big job in it's self]. Verdale Slack was in my class and he turned seven in November, Jackie Woodfield, and Margerie Allen helped make up my first grade their b/ dates escaped me..

We read from a book called a primer and it had such good stories like the Little Red Hen. After we read a story we had art to do about what we read. Some times we cut around our fancy drawings and would place them on the teachers desk or our own. I believe Mrs. Martineau taught me to love reading or since mom read a l ot when she could maybe her example was good for me. I loved the history of our country, geography wasn't as great a subject . I realize it probably helped me know more about the world. I learned to spell fairly well but would never win a spelling bee. Arithmetic was some thing else and I was terrible in that.

My friend Marjorie Allen lived in a two story house north of us on a hill and to visit her you had to climb up and down one hill and then up the next where she lived. Her dad had a big ugly red bull and of course we were warned to Beware of him. There was a pond on the hill and geese tame or wild I don't really know just thought how magnificent they were. There was a big red barn that you don't see often any more. It was always an adventure to visit and play with Marjorie and her little sister Beverly. Her parents Cecil and Pearl were good friends to my parents. A bit north and east of Allens and across the road back in the field was where Jackie Woodfields grandparents and parents lived. Jackie and I played together quite often and his folks were friends to mom and dad. Jackie wasn't as roudy as most boys maybe because he was an only child.