Autobiography of Adra May Atwood Jenkins
Contributor: crex Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
My Mother's (Aurilla Lenora Packer) family lived in Worland, Wyoming. Her Dad (Oliver Burgess Packer) was a farmer and a little man. When his water turn would come he had to go up the ditch to get it. A family had two big boys that kept stealing his water, and he would have to go back up and get it. This one time he got mad and told them off so they got in a fight. One boy hit him on the head with a shovel, when he fell the other one put his head under the water and held him there until he was dead, then went off and left him. My Grandma (Josephine Florence Warner), thinking him gone a long time, went to see what was wrong and found him. This left my Grandma with six children. The oldest was Frederick Glen, then my Mother, Aurilla Lenora, then Isador, Elmer William, Torrey and Archie. They lived on this little farm the best they could with all of them working. My Grandma took in washings and odd jobs.
One of my Dad's (Stephen Wallace Atwood) brothers owned a farm not too far away, and he needed help. My Dad wanted to get away from home in Vernal and was glad to go and help him out. He and my Mother met and fell in love. However, my Grandmother thought she was too young to get married and tried to break it up. Fred, thinking he was the man of the house and boss, had my Mother locked in the bedroom and she could not be let out unless they were there. While she was locked in her bedroom she made a dress for herself by hand. My Dad had the marriage license for months. One day while they were gone my Mother got her sister to unlock the door so she could go to the toilet. However, she got on top of the house and yelled and waved her dress. My Dad, working in the field, came on his horse to see what she wanted. My Mother got on the horse with him. They went to my uncle and aunt's house, got the license, went to town in her hand-made dress, and got married before Grandma came home. They were married September 3,1904 and moved to Vernal, Utah. They had two sons and five daughters (Death dates have been added). They are:
Adra May Atwood (Jenkins), born June 24,1905 (Died September 26,1986)
Frederick Wallace Atwood, born March 7,1907 (Died March 19,1972)
Ira Eldon Atwood, born October 16,1910 (Died November 17,1926)
Florence Lea Von Atwood (Allred), born November 18,1911 (Died January 20,1985)
Nellie Josephine Atwood (Southam), born June 24,1913 (4 April 2001)
Mabel Lenora Atwood (Workman), born December 20,1915 (24 January 19910
Baby daughter, born October 5,1917 (Died October 5,1917)
Ida Isador Atwood (Anderton), born December 5,1918 (Died February 24,1987).
I, Adra May Atwood, was born June 24,1905, at Vernal, Uintah, Utah, to Stephen Wallace and Aurilla Lenora Packer Atwood. I was born at my Grandma and Grandpa Atwood's home. We lived there about six months before my Dad bought a place just a little way from my grandparents with a small log house on it. One day when I was just crawling, my Mother, needing some wood, took me down to an old shed, sat me down on the ground, and climbed upon the top of the shed after some wood that was there. While she was doing this, I crawled over under the shed and just as the wood came down a big pole hit me on the head. When my Mother got me out she called to a neighbor. He came to see what she wanted, and then he went for my Grandpa. While one of my uncles went for the doctor my Grandpa and this neighbor administered to me. When the doctor got there, he said I was dead. The neighbor woman and my Grandma put me on the top of the sewing machine table. Abner Richins came along at that time and he gave me a blessing and said, "when I come back this baby will be nursing."
In 1907 my brother Frederick (Fred) was born. We lived in the log cabin until September 1910 when my dad and mother decided to go to Canada.
My Mother never saw nor heard from her Mother until we were on our way to Canada in 1910. My Mother was expecting her third baby, her sister was married and had a baby, so we went to her place. Her sister sent word to her Mother that her baby was sick so my Grandmother came right away. When she got there and saw all of us she was so glad to see us and her daughter that she took us all home with her. My brother, Ira, was born at her home October 16,1910. Fred, her brother, was married and had two children, but he and my Dad never did get along.
My Childhood Years in Canada
As soon as my Mother could travel after Ira was born we went to Canada where the rest of my sisters were born.
Grandpa Atwood had died in Vernal, Utah, and most of the children were married and had already moved to Canada and wanted their Mother to come and be with them. When we got to Canada my Dad's mother, his two sisters, Nettie and Edna, and six brothers, Charlie, Johnnie, Joseph, George, Martin, and Nephi, were glad to see us. His brother George was not married at that time. We went to live on a farm in Beazer, Alberta, Canada and here is where my sister Lea Von, was born on November 18,1911. When she was ready to be born my Dad went for the doctor in the bob sleigh. However, by the time he got home with the doctor my Mother had sent Uncle George for the neighbor woman on horse back, and Lea Von had been born.
My Dad's youngest brother, George, came to live with us that summer and winter. The snow was very deep and it was cold. We had to use a team and bob sleigh to feed the stock. Uncle George was a young man and liked to go to the dances and take his girl for a ride in the bob sleigh. This one time when he was getting ready, he combed his hair all nice, put some mutton tallow on it and by the time he got to his girl's place the mutton tallow had gotten cold and his hair was standing straight up stiff. He had to wash his hair and let it dry before they could go on to the dance. He never did that again.
My Dad was a farmer and a sheep man. He and his brothers, Johnnie and Joseph, filed on a homestead. The land was away out in the country and there was a small store and a post office. My Dad was the only one of the three to improve the land. His place had two springs of water on it. We built a two-room house by one spring for water and he built a small house over the spring with the water running through it and a board was left out of the floor. My Mother was then able to set buckets of milk, butter, and cream down in the water to keep it cold. He made a ditch and a pond at the end with an overflow in it and here is where we watered the cattle. There was a flat place on top of the hill. We kept the cattle and horses up there in a small corral and shed until my dad could get one built down in the bottom by the house. It took several months to get it done.
My Mother, Fred and I did most of the milking. We had one cow that gave so much milk it took both of us to milk her with me on one side and Fred on the other side. We would then feed it to four calves. My Mother decided we should put the calves on the cow so we put her in a small pen and turned the calves in. She raised the four calves and we got out of milking her and were we glad to get out of that job!
Over across the flat my Dad had a wheat field. This is where the spring was and he used the water to water the grain. The mustard weeds would come up in it and it was our job to pull these weeds out by hand. The young ones were good to eat so these we would keep separate and took to the house. The ground was very sandy. Sometimes my Mother would come and help us. While we were resting we would build houses and corrals in the wet sand and have rocks for cattle.
In the winter the snow would get so deep we would sleigh ride over the fences. In the wintertime we had lots of fun riding down the hill and across the fields. Once we went down to our Uncle Johnnie's and coming home we saw a pack of wolves after a herd of cattle. They caught one and soon had it torn to pieces. Down in the meadow there were lots of bumps like ant hills but they were just little hills. We turned the cattle loose there because they had plenty of grass and water. One time the bum-lambs (Note: bum-lambs are also known as orphans because their mothers would not accept them) were feeding there and we saw them coming toward the house as fast as they could run. My Dad grabbed the gun and shot some coyotes that were after them. We never let them get too far away from the house again. When my Mother was going to have a baby we would move into town for a month or so.
When we were able to improve upon the homestead enough to sell it, my Dad sold it and bought a herd of sheep. Uncle Nephi and Aunt Jessie also bought a herd of sheep and we would go out to camp with the sheep every spring for lambing time and stay until fall when it got too cold. I never started school when school started or never stayed until it let out until we came back to Vernal.
My Mother had a baby girl that died at birth October 5,1917. These were sad days for us. My Mother had a long dress with lace on the bottom for her to be blessed in, but she was buried in it instead. It was cold so my Aunt Aggie Atwood, Uncle Johnnie's wife, washed and dressed her and laid her on the top of the sewing machine table by the open window. In the night we heard a noise and went to see what it was. A cat had jumped through the window and was going to eat on her. We were going to name her Laura because my Dad liked that name, so that is what we called her.
In 1918 there was a terrible flu epidemic. My Dad was out with the sheep and we lived in Raymond, Alberta, Canada, in a three-roomed house. My Mother had just given birth to Ida and they were in one room, all the rest of us were in another room and we had a large kitchen. We were all sick and had to depend on neighbors and relatives to bring us food, water, coal, and wood to the doorstep. My Dad would come home and chop wood and put a big pile of wood and coal on the doorstep. We could lay in our bed and see them put dead people out the window of our neighbors. The doctor would come when he could. We were sure glad when spring came. My baby sister, Ida, was born December 5,1918. We didn't have much of a Christmas in our house that year and neither did a lot of other people. Many families lost loved ones to the flu but we were lucky as we all survived.
My Mother was in bed with Ida, and she felt the covers turn down from her shoulders. She, thinking it was one of us kids, turned to see what we wanted and there stood her two brothers from Worland, Wyoming. She screamed and Fred, Ira and I went to see what was wrong. She told us they were there but we could not see them so thought it was a dream, and we went back to bed. The next morning we got a telegram saying that they both had died with the flu.
When Nellie was born Grandma Packer came up to see us and stayed a month or so. She also came when Ida was a baby after the flu was over and stayed until spring. She probably would have stayed longer but we had to go with the sheep. She went back and sold her farm but kept
her home and lived there until she died.
My Dad would divide the herd of sheep and each of us kids would take care of our bunch. I had the ewes, and each night we would have to take them to their own corral and pen them up. This is when I learned to crochet. I met a girl that lived with her family on the prairie and she knew how to crochet and taught me. She let me have a hook and thread and a pattern until my Dad went to town and got me some. I never learned to read a pattern but can copy most any one I see.
One time on the prairie there was a fire. While the others were busy getting the sheep to safety I went to camp and pushed the sheep wagon as far into a pond as I could and threw the bedding, clothes, and flour sacks into the pond. My parents didn't think that was a smart trick!
We had a cow and took her along with the sheep and horses. We had a *******, and a mare that was going to have a colt. My Dad had to go to town for groceries and business, and was gone for two or three days. He told us to watch this mare close and keep the mule tied up at night as it was a mule's nature to kill a new born colt. The mule broke loose one night and early the next morning Fred and I went to find the horses. We found them, along with the new-born colt. The mare had fought the mule away until she had a path worn down in the ground around her colt. When we got the ******* and horses back to camp that poor mother was give out, laid down most of the day. It was a pretty little colt, all red with a white spot on her forehead and we named her Flax.
While we lived in Raymond we went to school there. The school house was square, three stories high, with a basement, red brick with a stairway going up to the top, and one going down to the basement. Some of the kids would go to the top and slide down the railing. One little girl fell off and was killed on steps below going to the basement. One half of the basement was for the boys to play in and the other was for the girls. One day Ira was in the hall with his cap on and some bigger boys took it away and started to run down the stairs going to the basement. I saw what happened and started after him. I had my lunch pail in my hand, which was a five pound lard bucket, I threw it at him and hit him on the head with the bottom edge cutting his head. He had to go to the doctor just across the street. A teacher saw what happened. I got Ira's cap, but the teacher took me to the principal. I told him why I did it, and she told him what she saw. He told me to be more careful from now on and not let my temper get the best of me.
While we lived on the homestead some of the houses were made out of sod. They would plow the ground, cut the sod with an axe, and lay it up like brick. Then, we put poles on top and dirt for the roof. Sometimes all the neighbors would get together and go to one house and have a party. One night several sleigh loads went to one house that was made of sod. A blizzard came up. They burnt up all the wood he had, and snow came in the window hole. My Dad said, "I am going home." So, we got in our sleigh, but the men could not see the road. They had a big canvas that they put over all of us. My big fat aunt sat on my feet to keep them warm. I didn't want her to, so I cried and cried and tried to get my feet out. The more I would cry, the more she would slap me, and the tears ran down my face until it froze ice on my face. My Mother was busy keeping the other kids from freezing to death. Some men tried to walk ahead with lanterns. My Dad finally told them to "get in and we will give the horses their head's and they will go home." We had to pass a big house with lots of sheds and corrals. All the sleighs filled with people followed us, and we stopped at this big house. They didn't go to the party, but they welcomed us in and took care of the horses and here is where we stayed until the next day. My feet had gone to sleep, and I could not walk, so my Dad carried me in the house. The woman thought I was froze to death, and she took my shoes off and rubbed my feet. Some men went back to see how the two old bachelors were. They had gone to bed and covered up their heads. The bed and floor were covered with snow, but they were warm. We were glad to see our lumber house with real windows, a door, and plenty of coal and wood. My big fat aunt and her husband stayed with us until the storm cleared up. My cousins Alonzo and Curtis, being big boys helped hold the canvas over the rest and when we got to this big house they were almost froze to death.
One day my Dad was riding past a house and heard a woman screaming. He stopped, went in and saw her husband had her in a corner with a butcher knife and was going to cut her throat. My Dad stopped him, and they got into a fight. When my Dad was getting the best of him, she turned loose and helped her husband. They both beat up my Dad, put him on his horse and the horse came home. We had to help him in the house.
Another time he was riding the range herding cattle for a man and he stopped to visit with a man he knew. This man invited him to eat with him. He went to a barrel, took out some meat, cooked it and they had dinner. The meat was so good that my Dad asked him what it was and he said, "Prairie Dogs." It made my Dad so sick that he threw up all the way home. Us kids used to put a snare around the hole with a binder twine string. We then would get back a little way and lay flat on our bellies. When the prairie dog would poke his head up we would pull the string fast and catch him and have him to play with. Sometimes he would die from being give out, sometimes we would turn him lose and catch a fresh one. Many a day in the late summer and fall before it stormed my Mother and us kids would take the team and wagon, each with a gunny sack, and we would gather up the dry cow cakes (manure) to burn during the winter. The ones that were not quite dry we would turn over and come back in a few days to get them. It would make an awful smell but a warm fire. It kept one busy putting them in the stove. The winters were cold with lots of snow. In the summer when we could see a storm coming we would have to go get the stock and lambs and put them in the shed and corral or the storm would drive them for miles and miles away. In the summertime I have seen it hail until we could gather it and my mother would make ice cream. In the wintertime it was nothing for it to get to 40 below. We liked to hear the squeaking sound the sleigh runners would make over the snow.
After my Dad sold the homestead and we moved to town, there were no more sleigh rides. As soon as spring came it was time to herd the sheep, but we had fun out on the prairie. We had two sheep wagons and a tent and a big yard to play in. We used to all look up at the sky to see what we could make out of the stars, or lay on the ground and watch the clouds go by and turn into shapes.
They don't raise melons in Canada, and I have known my Dad to pay $5.00 for one to let us kids taste it. We never raised a garden after we sold the homestead. My Uncle Johnnie had sold his homestead and moved to Cardston and bought a farm. He sold some of it and the Cardston Alberta Temple is built on part of it. He gave some of the ground to build a church house on.
My Mother believed in prayer but my Dad didn't so we never had prayer in our home when he was there. One time when we lived in Raymond, Alberta, Canada, my Grandma Packer was staying with us and we had a very sick baby and no way to go to the doctor but walk into town. My Mother took the baby in her bedroom and got on her knees and prayed for help and her baby to get well. It was not long until a man came to the door and said, "Do you need help?" She asked if he was a Mormon, and he said he was, so she asked him to administer to her baby. He even used the oil and held the baby in his arms. After he got through he said, "Don't worry, the baby will be well in the morning." He handed the baby to my Mother and she put it in bed. He left, and she went to the door to see which way he went, but could not see him anywhere. She went out into the road but he was not anywhere. She always believed he was one of the Three Nephites. One time when we were out to the sheep camp my Dad had to go to town for groceries. It took him all day to go with the team and wagon. He left early in the morning so he could get what he wanted and get back to camp by the next day. However, the next day Ira got hurt really bad. A horse kicked him, and we had no way at all, not even a horse, to take him to town. My mother had us kneel down on the ground around her and Ira and she prayed until I thought my knees would break. Not long after we got up we saw a man in a wagon going into town. She sent me and Fred to ask him if she could go to town with him. He drove over to the sheep wagon where my Mother was cleaning Ira up. He, seeing what Ira looked like, gladly helped him in the wagon on my Mother's lap. They met my Dad and he turned around and took them to the doctor. He came on home when the doctor said Ira would have to stay in the hospital and my Mother stayed with him. But us kids had to take care of the sheep, milk the cow, and tend the smaller kids that night. In three or four days my Dad went back and got Ira and my Mother. We were glad for them all to be back to camp.
We had lots of fun out in the wide open country. My Dad always tried to find a camp close to a stream of water or a pond and a tree. We were glad when lambing and shearing of the sheep were over. We could then mix the herd instead of having a lot of little bunches. When a mother sheep would lose her lamb my Dad would carefully skin it and tie it on to an orphaned lamb and she would take it. When a mother sheep would not claim her lamb, she went into a bunch of mothers and lambs with a big red daub of paint on it and three times a day we would have to hold her in a corner and throw her down and let her lamb suck. That wasn't too much fun!
I would take our reader book with me and sometimes I would read, or I would write, crochet, or just lay on the ground and watch the clouds go by. Sometimes we would have an terrible wind storm and on those days we had to let the tent down and pile the salt rock or anything heavy on it. We had sheep corral panels and we would have to let them down. One time we were shearing when one came up and it scattered wool fleece for a long way. It was fun to set and watch the little lambs play. If there was a little hill or pile of dirt they would see how many could get on it. Sometimes there would be a fight, then they would hit their heads together just like the big sheep. We were glad when fall came so we could move back into town.
I remember one time when we were in school the train started to whistle, the cars honking, the curfew bell ringing, people yelling, and the band playing. The principal phoned and found out that the first world war had stopped at 11 minutes to 11 on the 11th day of the 11th month. School let out and we all marched down the street and we were so glad. My Mother's brother, Will, was in the war but he came home safe. Some were not so lucky as some of the mothers and fathers were crying as their loved ones would not be coming home, but glad it was over. This little town we lived in was Monitor. We stayed there until spring, then back out to camp we went.
Return to Vernal, Utah
My parents started talking about coming back to the United States. They sold their sheep herd in 1920 and started out for the United States in a covered wagon. They hated to leave their baby and my Grandmother buried in Raymond, Alberta, Canada. It took us a month to get to Vernal, Utah. We brought our colt, Flax, with us. She was a good sized mare in June. She would run along by the wagon with her mother. We went through an Indian reservation and they wanted Flax but my Dad would not let them have her. So they tried to catch her but could not, then they tried to head her off, but when we would get a little way a head and her mother would whinny she would come. Sometimes she would rear straight up and paw and the Indians would scatter and she would break through and come. She was a fast runner and with her long, light colored, wavy tail and mane flying she was a beautiful sight to see. No wonder they wanted her! We soon got across the Indian reservation so they had to stop trying to catch her and we were all relieved. My Mother was afraid they would grab one of us kids and make my Dad give them Flax in exchange for us so she made us stay close to the front of the wagon.
We were disappointed when we crossed the state line when all we could see for miles and miles was sage brush and it was so dry. We went to my Grandma Packer's place and stayed there for a week after which we came on to Vernal. We had to cross a river and water ran into the wagon. We were afraid Flax would be drowned, but she was a good swimmer. We came on to Vernal and stayed a few days with my Uncle Joe and family, my Dad's brother. My Dad bought a few acres of land and had a two-roomed house built on it. It didn't take long for us kids to get to know some of the other kids and we liked it. For the first time we could start and stop when school started and stopped.
My cousin Rachel Atwood was younger than I was but as big so I fit in her group fine. I had long black curls and all the rest of the girls had short hair. I coaxed my parents to let me have mine cut, but they were my Dad's pride and joy and he would not listen to it. I could have talked my Mother into it but what my Dad said was it. The boys liked my curls and so did the girls. One time when I was up to my boy friend's house I coaxed him to cut my hair, so he did. When I went home I took my curls in a paper sack and when my Dad saw it, I got a good licking and grounded for a month, but I wanted to be like the rest and never let it get long again.
I had some good girl friends and we had a lot of fun. One Sunday afternoon Ivie Smuin asked me to her place to meet her family. She had a big brother Alvin and we made friends right away. He was a cousin to my cousin, Rachel. She had a boy friend, so did her oldest sister Mildred. One day a bunch of us boys and girls went on an Easter egg hike away out in the hills to a place they called the Devil's Cave. It was just a pile of rocks with a hole through it, and we had to crawl through a hole to get out to the other side. All the rest had been through it many times but me, and I was afraid. They made me believe that I had to crawl through in order to get to the other side, so I went. We put our initials on the side of the cave. One time we went to the bend in the Green River. One or two in the group had an uncle that had a ranch down there and they raised the best watermelon you ever tasted. We went and bought some and had a melon bust, and we almost busted before we got home and to the toilet.
My Dad bought another herd of sheep. He went in with his brother Joe, a man named Van Massey, and N. J. March who was a banker. They were three of the crookest men in Vernal, so my dad lost our home and most of his sheep. He traded the rest of the sheep for a farm from John Slaugh, and we moved there. Our new place was in the same ward at church, and we were in the same school. We had dances in Davis Ward and we had some good times there.
When I got through school in Davis Ward, I went to Vernal and got me a job. I was 18 by this time, and I had a new boy friend by the name of David Jenkins. I worked at the Commercial Hotel in Vernal for three years during which time I also went with David. My Dad didn't like David and would not let me marry him until I was 21. I remember one time when he came to see me, we were going to a show. My Dad would not let me go even to the car to say goodnight. He told David to be on his way. After I got in town to work he kept coming and I kept seeing him. My Dad had to go away for a few days, so he told Fred "if David came down there to shoot the son of a b." I had a date, so my mother let me go down to the corner store and wait for him to come by the corner. I told him what my Dad said so we went for a ride. The next week I went to Vernal to work and I never went home to stay any more. I worked from daylight to 10 o'clock some nights in the hotel for $1.00 a day doing all kinds of work; dishes, mopping floors, washing sheets, making beds, and waiting on tables. There were three of us girls working, and we would take turns washing the supper dishes so that one of us could have a night off.
David then got a job herding sheep for Joseph Hacking along with his brother, Sam. David had an Overland car and left it with me. One time Sam was home so one Sunday I wanted to go to Rangely, Colorado to see David. An oil well was on fire, and we decided to go out and see it. We took David's car, Sam, Frone, Edward, Jess, and David's mother out to see it, and it was a sight to see. We could not get within ten miles of it. The millers were so thick flying around through the air that it looked like a cloud and we never got home until daylight, and I had to go to work. On the way back we had to cross a wash and a bridge went over it. I was driving and going slow but in the bottom of the wash was a car upside down. We turned around and went back to look at it, and could see some baby clothes. The next day or so an officer was after us. Someone had taken the tires and everything off the car they could, but we had not touched a thing. They had gotten the tire marks of our car. I kept the car at the hotel so they came to me and I told them everything and who was with me. So, they went to Sam, and he told them the same story. Then they went to David's mother, and she told the same story. When Sam went back to camp and David came down, they tried to make out they knew he did it and he had to prove he was up to camp. As far as we know they never did find out who did it, but they did find the things way down the wash.
When I was working I would buy material for me a dress and my Mother one also. She would make mine then make one for the girls out of the material I bought. After a few times of her doing this, I would buy her a dress, not a fancy one but one she could clean up in after the work was done, or go to town in. My Mother never had an easy life. She never went to church much, and never had anything decent to wear. I coaxed her to go to mutual a few times with me when mothers were supposed to go with their daughters. I was a primary teacher and she went one time with me to a play the kids put on. She never went visiting. At her funeral the speaker said, "In order to know Aurilla Atwood, you had to go to her house." She only had one electric washer in her life and that just a year or so before she died. She never had an electric stove, flat iron, refrigerator, or a rug, and once, only once, can I remember of her having linoleum on the kitchen floor. I guess she lived away out on the homestead and prairie in a sheep wagon too long. Many a time I would take a book home from school to her to read. She would tell me the story and I would report on it as though I had read it. They had no TV, no radio, or telephone, but she had an old treadle sewing machine and she made most all of our clothes.
Marriage, Idaho, Homesteading and Farming in Vernal, Utah
David and I were married at my parents' home on my 21st birthday, June 24,1926. After we were married, we went to Idaho and got work on a farm until fall. We got a one-room place to live in and David got a job in a big potato pit. He would sack potatoes all day and groan all night as he was so tired. In November we got a call from my folks in Vernal that Ira had died on November 17,1926. We left there as soon as we got the news to go back to Vernal. But before we got home the clutch went out on the car and it would not pull very good. David would push and I would drive. When it got to going good, he would jump on, and that's the way we got home. The funeral was over when we got there. We stopped at a canal close to Roosevelt for some water for the car, and there is where we had our first bite to eat since we left Idaho. We had a little crock of chow and some bread, and that is what we had to eat. We had a drink of water out of the canal. Ira and another boy were riding horses and this other boy's horse had never been on the road before, so Ira had a rope tied to it and the horn on his saddle. A car came over the hill and this horse would not move, so Ira made his horse push him over but it was too late and the car hit Ira's horse, killing it and Ira was badly hurt. It broke his arm, and they took him to the hospital but had to take off his arm and gangrene set in and he died. The driver of the car was drunk. It was hard on my mother, and it took a long time for her to get over it, if she ever did.
After we came back from Idaho, David went out to the Little Emma Mines to work. After awhile I went out with him and worked in the boarding house. It was here that I bought my first sewing machine. I ordered it from a catalog and my boss brought it from Weston to me at the mine and we brought it home. It was a treadle machine called Brunswich. (When we moved to Orem I took it with us and later traded it in on a treadle Singer machine, then had a motor put on it. I still have it. I worked at the Orem Cannery to get the money to pay for it.)
Before Vada was born, we lived in a little one-room house that belonged to his brother, Sam. David had traded a cow for it. We left our furniture in the house. While we were living there we had a calico cat and had had her for a long time. We left her there also. When we went back to get the furniture, she was still there. She was so glad to see us. We took her over to Calder's with us. She went around smelling the furniture and knew she was home.
Vada was born at my parents' home, and my Mother was up with her day and night. I was so sick before she was born, and I didn't eat like I should have done, and Vada's intestines were stuck together. (Dr. Charles Christy not only brought me into the world but also delivered Vada and Doris.) Dr. Christy laid her on the bed and said, "There is nothing I can do for her." Abner Richins (I don't know how come), came and said to the doctor, "Can I have her?" The doctor said, "Yes." He took her out to the kitchen and took a bottle out of his pocket and passed it under her nose, and it made her gasp for breath, and it straightened out her intestines. Vada was always so little. She weighed 4-1/2 pounds, was 21 inches long. Vada was born October 6, 1928 at Vernal. We stayed there until February and then moved up to Calder's house. David was working for him. We had two rooms -- kitchen and bedroom.
There used to be a celebration over on the Indian Reservation every summer called the U.B.I.C. Everyone would come for miles around and stay the three days, if they could. One time after I was married and had Vada, having nothing to do, we walked down to my Mother's, which was about two miles. There she was all alone, no shoes on her feet. She had let one of the girls have her shoes to go to the celebration. She had to put on overshoes to go milk the cows and feed them and the pigs. David was away to work so we stayed the night, and I helped her with the chores.
One day I had Vada dressed in white laying on our bed. I had mixed bread and had it sitting on the warming oven. It was almost ready to go into the oven. All of a sudden the stove blew up and the soot puffed out all over everything. Vada was all black, my bed spread was a black sight, and the bread dough was black. I cooked it anyway and then cut off the crust. We ate the insides. I had to mop and wash everything.
The next spring, David, having a few sheep, put them in with Leo Calder's herd. David had filed on a homestead on Diamond Mountain. We went on the mountain with the sheep. Our place had a lot of trees on it with a spring up in the trees. We made a ditch from it down to where the camp was located. My Dad had filed on the place joining ours, but he had no water, so had to haul it from our spring. Fred herded my Dad's sheep so his wife Mary and their little boy and girl lived up there also. Mary would bring her washing over to our camp, and we both would have a wash day.
One time we heard an awful noise. The bum (orphaned) lambs were up in the timber feeding and here they came running scared half to death and got under the sheep wagon. We thought it was a panther, but never saw it. Leo Calder came up to the camp that day and we were telling him about it. He started yelling like a panther and here it came. The lambs ran for the sheep wagon and got under it as it came closer and closer. David and Leo had their guns ready and we saw a big bird fly from one tree top to another making the noise. We would keep the sheep on our place until the feed got short then go to Leo's place until his feed got short, then back up to our place. We did this each summer until the place was proved upon, then we sold the sheep and the homestead. We had a cow and we took her and the calico cat with us. David's brother Robert's wife died leaving him with three children, two girls and a boy, so he brought them to us. We kept the girls, and his parents the boy, until he got married again.
We had fun on the mountain. Down on Leo's place it was more on the open flats. He had a windmill and troughs to catch the water for the sheep. We had to have big blocks of rock salt for the sheep. Many a time we have seen deer come down to drink and lick the salt. They were so pretty with those big brown eyes and very quick. In order to watch them we would have to be so quiet. We never did kill one of them. It hurt me all over to see them kill a mutton. I would watch the sage hens and the little ones being hatched and see the flocks of the little ones running around. We would try to catch them sometimes, but never could. We took Melva and Erma with us up there one summer and Erma got a wood tick in her head. We had a terrible time getting it out and it made her sick. When Leo came up to camp we sent her down to David's parents, and they took her to a doctor.
After Doris was born I never went back to the mountain. I stayed home, raised a garden, put up fruit and milked the cow. The last summer I was up there we built a log house on the homestead. There was a saw mill up there so David got logs and took them to the mill. He had to give half for sawing them, but he got out enough to build us another room on our house down home. It was a log sawed on four sides. He stretched chicken wire all over the walls and had it plastered. It made a nice warm house. When we first lived there David dug a cellar under the house, boarded up the walls and made shelves in it. We sure had a nice clean, cool cellar for the fruit. One day I went down to get a bottle of fruit and there on top of the bottles was a snake. We had a time getting it out. I was scared to go down there knowing another one could be there.
One winter before we built our other room on, David and Harold worked at a coal mine. Ellen and Doris were babies. Vonnie (Lea Von) lived in a two-roomed house not too far from us and her house was so cold that it froze everything--including them. She was afraid Ellen would freeze to death so we moved her bed up to our place, and we lived together all winter. There were just enough room between the foot of our two beds to set two chairs. She could lay in bed and put a lump of coal in the stove. Ellen was very young so she would watch the children while I milked our cows, hitched the horses to the wagon and go to the canal for water. We had a barrel in the house and I would drive up by the door and dip water out of the barrel on the wagon and hand it to her and she would pour it in the barrel in the house. I would then put the empty barrel on the ground and then empty the water from another barrel into that one. Then I would have to take the horses to the barn, unhook them, get on a pony we had and drive the cows to the canal to drink. I would water the horses at the canal while getting the water in the barrels. By the time I got it all done my overalls and shoes would be froze stiff, but I never got sick-just awfully cold. I had to go about a half a mile to water the stock, cut a hole in the ice and while they were drinking I would go on down to the mail box to get the mail. One day the horse I was riding went to the box okay but when we were coming back to the canal, I guess he wanted a drink. He ran and when he got to the canal he suddenly stopped. I went off over his head straight into the canal. I was soaked all over, and by the time I got home and the stock in the corral I was stiff all over before I got to the house. Vonnie had to help me get out of the frozen clothes and put on some dry ones. She had to finish feeding the stock and put the cows in the barn, so the horses would not fight with them.
When Vada was about two, David was away herding sheep. It was winter and when I would have to go water the stock I would bank the stove, hide the lid lifter, and lock Vada in the house. She could stand on a chair and watch until I got back. I had an old fashioned cupboard and in the bottom shelves I could put ten pans of milk. One time when I came back Vada had all that milk in every cup and dish all over the floor. That was a mess to clean up as each dish had thick cream on it. I asked her why she did it and she said, "So I would not get lonesome." Another time when I had to go take care of the stock she wanted me to let the dog stay with her in the house, so I did. She got on the chair to see if I was coming and the dog wanted there also. She was afraid he would push her off and started to cry and the dog started to howl. The louder she cried, the louder he would howl. I heard it before I got home so hurried in the house, let him out and got her off the chair. After that I would take her with me and Grandma Jenkins would tend her until I got the water. I was glad when Vonnie came to live with me. Doris was born by this time and I was glad to have spring come as the water came down the ditch and I could dip it up and carry it to the house. One time David was farming a man's place. It was hay mowing time, and he had to go ward (home) teaching so I had to mow the hay. I took Vada and Doris with me and they played under a big tree. As I was mowing I saw a pheasant run and hide so I stopped the horses, got out the monkey wrench and threw it, and it cut that pheasant's head off as slick as if I had done it with a knife. It surprised me, and David also when he saw it.
We lived on Mark Cook's place and farmed it. At one time it belonged to David's parents, and all of their 12 children were born there in a three-roomed house. Mark Cook lost it to the state, and we were going to buy it, but we could not get our money for the down payment until Monday. Mark Cook went to Salt Lake City Saturday and bought it, and it turned out to be a blessing for us. Lyle was born there and when he was a year old we moved to Roosevelt on a farm.
Living in Roosevelt, Utah
We traveled to Roosevelt in wagons taking all our household goods, animals and machinery. David drove one wagon, Vada drove the cows on a horse, Doris and me the other wagon with Lyle, our calico cat, plus it was loaded with other belongings. I had a quilt for Lyle to lay on but he kept wanting to crawl to the edge and watch the wheels go around. I had to drive and watch him. I took a rope, tied it around his waist and around mine just long enough for him to peek over and he got dizzy. I could see that something was wrong with him so I got him in my arms. He was so dizzy he could not move and went to sleep, and I was sure glad of it. It took us all day to go from Vernal to Roosevelt, about 30 miles. When we got there we moved into a two-roomed house and turned the cows into the pasture. We moved on Mother's Day. We had some pigs and chickens, and we did the best we could with them that night. There was a pig pen there but we had to put the chickens in the garage for awhile. The next day David went to work on the farm and I had the cows to milk, the milk to separate, and pigs to feed. We had four sows that were looking for little ones so had to make more pens. I kept wanting the pens cleaned out, but David never had the time. When one mother pig had her little ones, one got back of the pen and got stuck in the muck. I crawled in the pen to get it out and when it squealed the sow took after me, I ran, but fell, and she bit a hunk of my upper thigh above my knee and below my hip. It was a wonder she didn't kill me. When all the little pigs got born we had 40 of them.
That fall David went to work on the thrasher and took grain for pay. He made a big pen out of chicken wire with a door in it and a trough over in the middle of it. When the pigs were weaned he would put them in there. It was all right when they were little but when they got big they would take me down with two buckets of slop, so I put the trough by the fence and David made a shoot for the slop to go through into the trough.
I would have to hitch up the horses on the hayrack and go to the mill, get the grain chopped, a barrel or two of water, and come home. The water was for drinking and house use. There was a pond of water not far from the house, and I would have to carry water from there for the pigs. I had two 40 gallon barrels, would fill them half full of water and separated milk and the rest with grain. They would use a barrel every day and I got so tired of carrying water that I made what we called a "go devil" (today we would call it a sled) and hooked a horse to it and hauled a barrel everyday by dipping it up from the pond and emptying the bucket in the barrel. The bigger the pigs got the more they would eat, and the tireder I got.
We had 15 cows and there were very few times that David was there at milking or separating time. I would have to put a No. 3 washtub in the house and separate in it, then empty it in the big barrel. We had one cow that was so hard to milk that I left her until last in hopes that David would get home in time to milk her, which was about 1 out of 100 times. Finally I refused to milk her any more, and put two calves on her. David had to go to the thresher at daylight and not get home until late. When 6 o'clock would come I would have to do the milking, then feed the pigs, get supper for the kids, get them bathed and into bed, then I would do the dishes, straighten the kitchen, and mix a barrel of slop for morning. My sister-in-law did not milk cows so my brother-in-law, Will Jenkins, would have to do his milking before he left in the morning and after he came home at night.
I worked in the primary and came out to Salt Lake City once in June to Primary Conference. I saw every ditch full of water, trees, lawns, and fields so green, and lots of flowers in bloom. Back home we had no water, no flowers, no grass, the garden dried up and died. The water had alkali in it and it would kill the crops. We had a company that pumped water and people would come for miles around to haul water to drink and water the stock. When I went home and told David what I had seen, we decided to come out as soon as we could and look around for a home.
My Dad had married Florence Shepherd by this time and lived in Utah County and we hadn't seen him for a long time. We had sold all the young pigs and two of the sows, and most of the cows were dry, so we decided to take a trip and look around.
Our Move to Orem, Utah
It was in the fall and we found a place in Orem. We came back to Roosevelt, loaded up all we could, and got my uncle to haul the cows, pigs and chickens. We moved into our new home on my Dad's birthday, 21 February 1940. It was such a cold day and house, and we about froze. It rained most of the day so we could not find any wood or coal that was dry enough to make a fire after we got the stove installed. I went to the neighbors (Eldon and Erma Swenson) and borrowed a bucket of coal and some wood until the next day when David went to the lumberyard in Pleasant Grove and got some coal. The wagon that had pigs and chickens in broke down, and we had to leave it at Current Creek. David had to go back in a day or so to get them. The night we were here alone it rained all night and we could hear the water running off the house in a big stream and hitting the sidewalk. I thought it was a flood. We didn't do much sleeping that night! David got back the next day with the pigs and chickens.
We lived on a farm in Orem, had cows, pigs, a few chickens, and we raised grain, hay and tomatoes. One time I was helping David put hay in the barn. I was putting the fork in the load of hay to send it up in the barn. Lyle was riding the horse that would pull the cable to pull the fork full of hay up into the barn. He would keep getting off the horse and coming around in front of the barn. When I was ready, he would run and jump on the horse, and it would automatically start up. Vonnie and Harold came by, and I guess with talking to them I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. When Lyle got back on the horse it started up and I had my hand on the pulley and two of my fingers were pulled through the pulley and they were cut off slick and clean. This was during World War II, and we were on gas rationing. We did not have enough gas in our truck to get to the hospital so Harold and Vonnie started to take me to the hospital and they ran out of gas. We met a man we knew and he let us have enough of his gas stamps to get us there and home. It got me out of milking for awhile, but as soon as they were well I was back on the job.
My summers were spent helping in the fields, canning fruits and vegetables for winter, doing chores and working at the cannery. We did cherries and tomatoes.
My Mother died when she was just 47 years old. I had two children by then, Fred and Mary had four, Vonnie one. Mabel was just married and Nellie and Ida still at home. Not long after Ira died my Mother heard Ira calling Curtis Atwood, my Uncle Joe's boy, and one day I was out to Aunt Annie's place and Mildred, my cousin, said to me, "How can you stand it? I know I could not stand it if one of my brothers or sisters should die," and I said, "Well one of them is going to die soon and I can tell you who it will be." She said, "Who?" and I said, "Curtis." She asked how I knew and I told her my Mother heard Ira calling him. Just then Aunt Annie came into the room and heard what I said, and she got mad and went straight to my Mother. Mother told her about her dream. About four months later Curtis took sick all at once and died soon after. My Mother had several dreams that came true. She dreamed her mother died and in a few days we got word she had died. Mother and Dad went to Worland, Wyoming for the funeral leaving all of the kids at home to do the chores and take care of things. When we were in Canada I sent my grandmother a little tin frying pan with a marshmallow candy in it. She had kept it and when she died my Mother brought it home to me and I still have it. I also have a little chest of drawers I got for Christmas the year my little sister died in 1917, and I have a little glass pitcher, a spoon, fork and knife that was my grandmother's wedding gift. The silver spoon has " JP" on it standing for Josephine Packer.
One night my mother saw Ira with a baby in his arms, and they were so plain. She had worried for years if the baby she had that died would be hers, as they told her it was stillborn. It was alive just seconds before it was born. Someone told her if it never breathed it would go back and be born to someone else. They were not married in the temple so after we had gone to the temple, we had their work done and the baby sealed to them.
My brother, Fred, had a boy named Ronald that got killed. He and three of his brothers were riding two horses. They had been to a show in Vernal and were going home at night. From the time they went into Vernal until they came home, the road workers dumped a big load of gravel in the road and never put a light on it. When the boys were coming home the horse that Ronald and his brother was riding, plowed into the gravel, went end over end, killing Ronald instantly, and hurting the other one real bad. They had to take him back to the doctor. This was long after my Mother and Dad died. I had a dream one night that I was walking by a long fence and the wire came up to my chin. Not far on the other side of the fence I came to some people. They were sitting at a small table under a shed-like building and when I got closer I could see David's Mother and Dad sitting there with some more people talking. They spoke to me but kept on talking. I went a little ways further and saw my Mother and Dad sitting at another little table talking to someone. My Mother got up and came over to the fence and spoke to me. I asked her where Ira was and she pointed to a man on a horse on the same side of the fence I was on, only across the field and said, "There he is." Then I asked if she had seen Ronald. She said, "No." He is not allowed to come up here and he is in the south pasture. He can't come here until his work is done." My Dad spoke but he never came over to me.
I have heard that little still voice speak to me several times. One time when Lyle was little, he and I were herding cows. We were laying on the ground watching the clouds and a woodpecker flew in a hole in an old tree just a foot or two above my head. Lyle said, "I wonder if there is a nest or some baby birds in that hole," and I said, "We'll see." I stepped up on a dead branch to see and someone said to me, "if you do, you will slip and lose your baby." Well, I had no idea there was going to be a baby so I stepped up on this dead branch, it broke and down the trunk I slid, never hurt me at all, but I had a miscarriage. The last time I saw Ivan, I was standing in the doorway, David was in the car, we were going down to Aunt Laura's to take her some tomatoes and then come straight back and stay with Ivan that night. As I was standing in the door talking to him someone said to me, "this is the last time you will see him alive." We didn't go back to Ivan's and I never saw him alive again. A month before Ilene's baby was born I told her that there was going to be a funeral in the Jenkins' family. I kept dreaming of a funeral, and I could see Jenkins family members there. One time when I was working at the cannery sorting tomatoes, David wanted me to go to the temple the next day. I wanted to work and make $ 10.00. I was debating whether to go or not. I had made up my mind to work and someone said to me, "I have waited so long," so I went to the temple. I hope I made her happy. Rose Shoells went to the temple with us and when we were going around the point of the mountain a big diesel truck was in head of us. The smoke was coming back in our faces. David said, "I am going to pass it," and he did. Just as we got even with the front of the truck we hit a slick spot and went into a spin. The truck was going slow up the hill but hit us hard enough to spin us around and around. We ended up on the other side of the road ready to go over the embankment. It shook us up, caved in the front door of the car, but we didn't get hurt. We went on to the temple and came back. Maybe that woman that spoke to me in the cannery was watching out for us. One time before I was married and learning to drive my Dad's car, we were going to Vernal I was driving with my Dad in the front seat with me, my Mother, uncle and aunt in the back. I didn't think I was going fast but something told me to slow down and I did. When I got going slow, the back wheel came off, and if I had of been going fast it would have thrown my mother out and could have killed her. One time all of us, except Vada (as she was married), went to Idaho. David, Doris and me in the front, the rest of the kids in the back seat. In Idaho a big truck was in front of us. I was driving and I passed the truck which was in the outside lane and a car in front of me went across the road. There was nothing I could do but go on the outside and into the barrow pit and that would put me straight in front of the big truck. It was coming up on us fast. But someone said to me, "No, not the barrow pit, hold your head, hold your head." I wasn't scared at all until I got straightened up and out of the way of the truck. Then, I had to stop the car as I was shaking. Doris had pushed on the front of the car to help me put on the brakes until she broke the car. So, it pays to listen to that small voice.
I have had a few prayers answered. When we knew Lyle was going to be called on a mission I prayed night and day that he would not be sent overseas. I was so afraid of that big ocean and him away over on the other side of it. I did the same with Ivan. I was so thankful that Lyle was sent to Arizona and Ivan to Canada. Then Doris and Ted started to talk about going some place overseas and I had another fear, and I prayed and prayed for something to happen to change their minds, and my prayers were answered again. When Lyle was called in the Army, I was so scared. I prayed day and night for peace in the world and the boys not to have to go overseas. My prayers were answered again.
I was working at the cannery and Rose Shoells was working by me and we were talking about religion. She told me where to find in the Book of Mormon where it said seek and you can find, pray with faith and you will receive. When I got home I had to do the chores. David had to go to work at three in the afternoon and would not get home until midnight. I did all of the chores and milking and when I came into the house Mrs. Shoells came over and wanted me to take her to Pleasant Grove to get her some high blood pressure pills, so I did. When I got back I went to bed, found my place and read and read, but I could not understand a word. My mind just wandered and I kept on reading but just could not understand a word. I got out of bed and knelt by it and asked my Heavenly Father to let me read this book and understand and that my mind would be clear. I got back into bed and started to read. I read for sometime and I got so sleepy I could not see, so I turned out the light and went to sleep. But soon I felt someone by my bed and it woke me up. I said, "Dear, is that you?" No one answered so I looked, and I could not see a thing. I have never seen it so dark, I could not see a window or a door, everything was so black but I knew someone was by my bed. It scared me so bad I screamed, covered my head, and shook from head to toe. After awhile I uncovered my head and I could see the windows, the door, and everything in the room, but I could not keep from shaking. I was still shaking when David came home, and I never tried that again. It must have been an evil spirit trying to keep me from reading the Book of Mormon. I have read the Book of Mormon and not had any bad experiences since. I have read The Doctrine and Covenants and almost all ofThe Bible, and have been to the temple hundreds of times. I had my Mother and Dad's work done and sealed and my baby sister that died at birth in Raymond, Alberta, Canada, Ira, and myself sealed to them. I know that my Mother was with me all the way through the temple. I took my Mother's place and David took my Dad's place to be sealed, and when I was sealed to them they called on someone to help and lo and behold it was one of my mother's cousins. She recognized her name. I had never seen her before or since.
I have had a lot of disappointments and heartaches and I have had a lot of happiness. The biggest heartache I have had was when Ivan was killed. It still hurts to talk about him, but it is a comfort to have his picture close by.
I had an awful sick spell in May of 1976. I came close to passing on. I was in the hospital for 23 days. All of my children came home and David had them say a special prayer for me in Church. One night Ivan came for me. He was down this dirt road that went up a hill. He was beckoning for me to come. I had on some of my temple clothes and I took three or four steps toward him, but then I looked and saw David on his knees begging me not to go. I looked and saw all my kids on their knees begging me to come back, and I could see all of my grandchildren standing in a bunch with the saddest look on their faces. Then I saw a big crowd of people. I don't know who they were, unless they were the people that prayed for me. When I looked back for Ivan he was gone.
While in the hospital I had been under the oxygen and unconscious for some time, but was getting better. The nurse took the oxygen off to see if I could get along without it, which I did for awhile. But, in the night someone woke me up standing by my bed. I looked around but no one was there, so I went back to sleep, but I could hardly breath. Someone took hold of my toes and shook my foot. It woke me up but no one was there. I was so tired and sleepy that I went straight back to sleep. Someone once again took hold of my foot and shook it so hard it woke me up and my toes hurt where they had been squeezed and my knee hurt where it had been shook. I was so tired I could not move my hands and I could hardly breath. A nurse came into see what was the matter, put the oxygen on me and I heard her say, "Oh, her hands are going dark." A Dr. Crane came in. I don't know what they did, but when I woke up the oxygen was on me and I felt better. My toes were black and blue. I believe my Guardian Angel was there that night. Not long after I came home I was asleep and heard someone say, "Mother. Mother." I thought it was Lyle so I turned over and said, "What?" There was no one there so I went back to sleep. I was awakened again by someone saying, "Mother. Mother." So I sat up in bed and said, "What do you want?" but no one answered. I don't know if it was Ivan or my imagination, but it woke me up each time and I heard it very plain.
When Jay was born the way he is, I cried night and day and I still do. I have prayed and prayed for him, he is always in my prayers. I have put his name in at the Temple time and time again. Many a tear I have shed and had such a heartache. Maybe one of these days we will understand why, and one of these days we will understand why Ivan was taken from us, and his wife, and children. Mike, Jeffrey and Darrell are sure growing. Sharon has taken good care of them and has taken them to church. I also pray for her along with the rest of my children. We love her along with the rest of our children and we are very proud of her for the way she is raising the boys. They go to church all the time and she works in the church.
We had five children. Vada May was born October 6,1928. She weighed 4 pounds 8 ounces, 21 inches long. She was born on a Saturday night at 8:30. She was born in Grandma Atwood's house in Vernal, Utah. Dr. Charles Christy was the doctor and he was the same doctor that brought me into the world.
Doris LaMar was born during leap year on a Wednesday, April 20,1932 at 8:30 A.M. at our little house in Vernal, Utah. Dr. Charles Christy delivered her. She weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces, and was 21 inches long.
Lyle D was born Tuesday morning at 7:10 A.M. April 14,1936 in the same house David and eleven other children were born in Vernal, Utah. He weighed 9-1/2 pounds, 22 inches long. We was delivered by Dr. Bullock.
Catherine Ilene was born at 11:03 A.M. Friday February 27,1942 at the American Fork Hospital in American Fork, Utah. She weighed 10 pounds 15 ounces and was 20 inches long. She was delivered by Dr. Grant Anderson.
Ivan A was born at 11:30 A.M., Wednesday July 7,1942 at the American Fork Hospital in American Fork, Utah. Dr. Grant Anderson was the doctor but Ivan was born before the doctor got there. The nurses did a very good job, and I had the easiest time with him than even Vada. With Lyle the doctor was more in love with his nurse than he was in paying attention to me. After being in labor all night when Lyle was finally born, he was so weak that the doctor had to take blood out of David and put in him, and the doctor didn't give us much hope. Vada was blessed and given a blessing by Abner Richins within minutes after birth. Doris was blessed the first Sunday in May, Ilene and Ivan were blessed later. Ilene was blessed in June, I think, because it was warm enough that we could walk to church. Doris was born during the depression and I saved all my 10 pound sugar sacks, washed and bleached them out and made little dresses and slips from them and crocheted a little edging on the bottom of the slips. Vada had a red sweater but had worn holes in the elbows so I cut the sleeves off, sewed the cut end up with a rounding curve and had the cuff part on top for booties. I took a sheet blanket, cut it into two pieces, crocheted around the edge to wrap her in. It wasn't too warm at that time, and we had to go by team and wagon. The night she was born David heard a noise at the door and went to see what it was. Our calico cat had her kittens. A torn cat had tried to get at her kittens. When David opened the door she came in with a kitten in her mouth, put it behind the stove and went back for another one, and kept it up until she had all three of them in the house. David got a box, put a rag in it and let her stay.
After I had Doris and the doctor had gone, David went to milk and could not see the bum lambs, 12 of them. He looked over in the field, down the gulch, behind the house and about noon here they came home all sheared. They were yearlings. Somebody stole them, sheared them, and let them come home. We were sure counting on that wool for some money. The doctor charged $35.00 and we had a hard time paying that. Lyle and Vada only cost $35.00 as well. Ilene and Ivan were more as I went to the hospital and the others were born at home.
The year Doris was born we had a few sheep and chickens. We could not even sell a mutton and if we could maybe we would get $5.00 for it. We could buy a five gallon can of honey for $2.50, if we had the $2.50. We went to conference and some woman from Salt Lake told us that our chickens would be better in the bottles then to sell them for 35 cents. I had a pressure cooker so we killed most of the chickens, the fattest ones and the ones that were not laying, and bottled them as well as some mutton. I helped David's mother do some. It really came in handy and tasted really good. We had a good garden and I bottled a lot of things out of it. The Government paid for a skinned sheep so David took some down to sell to buy something to eat. I had one everyday dress, would have to wash it out at night to wear the next day. It had seven patches on it all different colors. Finely David got on P.W.A. with his team making roads. The Government was giving out some food, mostly cracked white navy beans. We ate so many of them that we have not had many white beans since. I have not liked mutton to this day, and I am not crazy about chicken. We had a cow that my parents gave us for a wedding present. We had plenty of milk and butter and plenty of pigweed greens.
When I was looking for Lyle we went to Salt Lake City to be sealed in the temple and had Vada and Doris sealed October 7, 1935. It took us from six in the morning to three in the afternoon to get through the temple. Vada, Doris, and Grandma Jenkins about starved before we could get something to eat. They did not serve lunches in the temple then. We went on a bus with a lot of other people, but we never came home with them. Grandma Jenkins had a sister-in-law living in Sandy that she had not seen for years, so we went there and stayed overnight and came home the next day.
Since retiring we have traveled to Arizona a number of times and flew once to Indiana. We went to California and Canada with Vonnie and Harold. (We also went to Canada to pick up Ivan when he finished his mission.)
We have been to the Salt Lake Temple many times since we moved to Orem. We have also been to the Alberta, St. George, Manti, Arizona, Jordan River, Idaho Falls, Oakland, Logan and Ogden Temples. Since the Provo Temple was built we have done hundreds of endowments and helped seal thousands of children to their parents. The sealers have told us some thrilling experiences that have taken place in the temple. We have sealed lots of couples together. We have not been to the temple very much this winter.
In November, 1980, David and I went to Arizona for Thanksgiving to see our first great-granddaughter, Leslie, and I got the flu. We flew back home and I had to go to the hospital for four days then I came home for six days and went back for eight more days. Then in 1982 Ted and Doris moved to Mesa. Steven and Leslie came out to Arizona with Brandon, our first great-grandson, so we took the bus and went down to see them. I started to feel sick again so Ted got us on a plane and we flew back home. I have not left home much sense, only to go to the store, church and the doctor. I have been in the hospital for short stays. I have not been able to do much since then.