MARILYN SMITH SLACK ~ Obituary
Contributor: Pianomom3 Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
MARILYN SMITH SLACK ~~ "Loving Wife & Mom"
Marilyn Smith Slack, 71, passed away September 3, 2013 in Murray, Utah. Born January 8, 1942 in Idaho Falls, Idaho, daughter of George Alexander and Oma Radmall Smith.
Married George Kenneth Slack October 26, 1978; later sealed in the Salt Lake Temple September 25, 1986. Served a mission at the Humanitarian Center for 1 ½ years and a Stake Mission to the Dry Pack Cannery. Also served as Relief Society Secretary.
Survived by husband; children: Shawna (Jim) Athey, Kelley Hills, Terry (Lorece) Riley, Linda Slack, Jill Hokama, Dean (Debbie) Slack, Sue Ellen (Keith) Stone; 14 grandchildren; 2 great-grandchildren. Preceded in death by children: Mike Riley and Cassie Wright.
Memorial services will be held Monday, September 9, 2013, 10:00 a.m. at Olympus Ranch, 971 East 5600 South, Murray, Utah.
Published in Salt Lake Tribune from September 7 to September 8, 2013
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GUEST BOOK ENTRIES
September 11, 2013
Dear George and Family, I am a cousin to Mary. Her mother Oma and my mother Alta are sisters. She and I were childhood friends and cousins. It has been many years since I saw Mary and as we grew up our lives diverged and took us to different parts of the country. I learned of her passing from my other cousin Larry Coleman. I want to send you my love and say how sorry I am for your loss. Mary was just one year older than I. May Heavenly Father Bless you all in this sorrowful time. Your Cousin Gene Pontius.
~ Gene Pontius, Quesnel, British Columbia
September 09, 2013
Terry & Rece
So very sorry to hear about your mom. We will keep her and your family in our prayers. Hope you are doing well. May the perpetual light always shine on her. Take care.
~ Marti & Joe Whiteman,
September 08, 2013
Dear George and family, we were so very sorry to hear of Marilyn's death. I have thought of Mary often throughout the years and will always hold her memories dear. I was just thinking about her last week – too bad for me that I didn't sit down and write her – maybe not only would it have given her a little lift, but it would have made me feel a little better today.
There are so many memories I have of my dear cousin, Mary, most recently was an email she sent to me simply stating: "Larry, I love you." In spite of her earthly trials, she was a wonderful and patient person who had a great sense of humor and very little complaint.
Mary and I were about the same age – we were close growing up; she and her sisters often came to our farm in the “wilds of Idaho” as their summer vacations – a week or so with us and a week or so with Aunt Alta's family. I always enjoyed the time we had together – whether it was “tromping hay” or playing “Anni-I-Over” or “Mother, May I” with the others!”
I have missed those special times with Mary. It seems when we grow older; we tend not to “let-down-our hair” as well and as much – along with tending to be a lot more busier with “grown-up things,” but those good, treasured memories live on forever in one's heart! So, I'll continue to remember those smiles and good times we had together.
Hold tight to your own good, precious memories about your wife and mother – they'll certainly comfort and strengthen you get through this particularly hard time. Mary will want you to continue on living life supporting, and loving each other in her honor.
May you and your family all be comforted in knowing Marilyn is in the loving arms of our Father-in-Heaven where “Eternal Chains” can't be broken!
Sending our love and deepest sympathy,
Larry and Charlotte Coleman
P.S. Let's keep in touch through the years. I have lots of pictures -- a few I've uploaded in Oma's name on ********************, but have many more to do. I still have the final draft, as well as the cassette tape. I think I have Oma's handwritten history in my files, also. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Larry Coleman, Santaquin, Utah
September 08, 2013
May the love of friends and family carry you through your grief.
Fred Martinez, SLC, Utah
September 07, 2013
Shawna - Jim so sorry for your loss. Love you both - BigLar
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MY EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES -- Part I
Contributor: Pianomom3 Created: 1 year ago Updated: 1 year ago
MY EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES, as told by Elial Radmall Coleman, read, corrected, and added to by the Radmall siblings; transcribed and written by her son, Larry K. Coleman from his book, OUR FAMILY CHAIN – ELIAL “RADMALL” COLEMAN – ANCESTRY AND YOUTH, 1982
(With a few corrections and clarifications)
I was given the name of Elial after my Uncle Elial (Lyle) Hadlock who happen to visit our home soon after I was born. I think it was just after he had completed his Mission -- I guess the reason being, Uncle Lyle made such a fuss over me. The story goes that my parents had me in bed with them when I fell out on the floor— making such a rumpus that Uncle Lyle came and playing as though he was rescuing me from some neglectful parents, he took me and put me in bed with them— keeping me there during his entire visit. My parents asked Uncle Lyle to “bless” me and unsuspectingly to everyone -- in fact it came as a big surprise, he switched the name my parents had arrived at -- instead, Uncle Lyle c gave me his name of "Elial." I was named and a blessed in our home, which was the custom in those days. Since my parents hadn’t decided on a name for me when I was born, in the name field on my birth certificate (Certificate Number 354), my name is listed only as “Radmall.”
The town I was born in was Mercur, Tooele County, Utah, Utah. It was a mining town which was later destroyed by fire and is now a ghost town. I was born on April 15, 1910 in our home, there, and was the fourth child born to my parents’. My older sisters and brother were first of all, Alta Ursula, pronounced as “Ur-sue-lah” – the same pronunciation as our grandmother, Ursula Jane Durfee, and great-grandmother, Ursula Curtis, but Alta preferred her name to be pronounced as “Ur-sah-la”— the fashionable pronunciation of the day. Then there was Emma Alice, who died when she was 4 ½ months old of spinal meningitis in the mining town of Dragon up above Vernal. Henry Forest (he went by Forest) was the third child, and then myself – making three living of four children born in our family up to that point.
I have many early childhood memories that I would like to record for my children to know me better—as well as for my own nostalgic enjoyment in recalling them back to my mind.
I remember when we lived in Union, Salt Lake County, Utah, Momma would often bake lots of cookies and put them in big jars. One time when the folks went to town, Momma gave each of us kids several cookies each from her jar. We asked for some for the neighbor kids by the name of Fryes--so she gave us some cookies for them, too. After the folks left, the neighbor kids came over as expected. After dividing the cookies up, we went to the ditch that ran through our front yard, and while lying on the bridge with our heads held over the clear, flowing water, we would eat them. Actually, the way we ate them is that we would first dip our cookies in the running ditch water and then we take a tiny bite out of them to make them last longer. They surely seem good to us, but I wonder what Momma would have said if she had known! On second thought, I really don’t have to think “that” hard!
Another incident in Union, of which I remember, is once when Dad, Mom, Uncle Clarence, and I were on our way to town in the wagon. We had some mean mules hitched to the wagon. It seemed as those that mules would kick every time anyone came around them. As we rode along, I suppose I went to sleep and fell off the seat right onto the tongue of the wagon. I guess a scared that mules so badly they just does feel—not moving a speck! Momma and Daddy were terribly frightened thinking I would be “kicked to death.” I get to thinking about it now, and I have to chuckle because even though it was terrifying -- it didn’t hurt at all.
It was here in Union that the mule stepped on Forest’s toe. He found that if he accentuated his misfortune, he could work it to his advantage; therefore, he wore a big bandage around his toe and limped “like you wouldn’t believe it!” We children felt so sorry for him that we would do anything for him—such as bring him drinks of water wherever he was: in the house, yard, or while he was playing. It took us kids a while before we realized he was using his injury to his advantage -- making the rest of us his slaves!
Alta remembers in Union how thick the fireflies were, and how we liked to walk through the fields to stir them up. The vivid glimmering light of their luminous wings as they fluttered about was so impressive that Alta could still remember distinctly the fun we had in watching them. It was like magic to us.
My sister, Fannie Eva (the “E” is pronounced as the “E” in “ever”-- not in the “E” in “even”) was born sometime just prior this period of time while we lived in Murray, Utah, but it just seems like to me she was always in my memory. It was during this time that my dad’s sister, Now, the next thing I remember was when we were living in Hiawatha, Carbon, Utah where Oma was born. We lived in four-room house with a new rug and a piano the folks bought. Momma took in washing for a schoolteacher to give Alta music lessons and for the piano payment. We kids had to stay out of the front room for about two hours every day (it seemed that long, anyway) while Alta practiced -- nobody could say a word! Alta surely liked that—this, being one time Alta got it over on us kids!
We had a big trunk in the front room and sometimes when we would have parties or Church in our house, we children would have to sit on the trunk. Momma had that trunk until she died. It evidently was destroyed when Eva and Dee were moving Momma’s things to Salmon when they had an accident on a sharp curve alongside the Salmon River. The car caught on fire along with the contents of the car, but fortunately, no one was seriously hurt.
We had a little black hen that we call “Blacky.” It seems to us that the only time she would leave our place was when she would take her daily walk over to the neighbor’s porch and lay them an egg! Then that silly hen would get up and cackle her way home telling the neighbors what she had done for them! We had many hearty laughs about Blacky. She was our only pet and hated to part with her when we left Hiawatha; however, that old hen seemed quite content to stay with the neighbors and continue her job!
There was a naughty boy in Hiawatha that used to bully us little kids around. He was pretty mean to us-- we sure didn’t like to see him come around--which he did several times a day. Momma didn’t quite know how to handle this situation. The boy ignored grown-ups’ directions and was a general “pain!” The following story shows how effective Mom’s sense of humor could be, which fortunately she had and it often was a source of comfort when sadness came or anytime a situation needed the lightened— much like my sisters are today -- especially Oma.
One day the mean neighbor kid was in our back yard playing in our sandbox. As I remember, he always wore britches with buttoned flaps to cover his bare bottom. The britches may just as well not had any buttons, because it seemed the flaps were always down. Momma called the flap “the backdoor.” Well, on this particular day while Momma was at her work in the house, she passed the window and saw the boy with his flap down, and as usual, the boy was teasing the little kids – which, of course, was “us.” Momma sighed aloud, “Oh, there’s that kid with the ‘back door’ down, and teasing the kids again!” What she said “hit her funny bone,” and she called out the open window a little rhyme she met made up at this spur of-the-moment. I’ll always remember the rhyme, because all the kids had a laugh about it. This is what Momma called out to the boy in a laughing manner:
"You dirty little devil,
Does your mother know you’re out
With your britches hanging down
And your bum sticking out?"
I remember one particular woman who was in the midst of a divorce that was staying at our house for some reason. She held onto our family like a “leech,” and it didn’t take our family long to get tired of her. We didn’t have much money, nor food, and a full house. The folks tried to get her to go back to her husband, but she wouldn’t listen. She continued to hold on to the security our family offered--seeming not to realize we wished her to leave.
Finally, she got some money from the welfare or some place. After some tactful guidance by Daddy and Momma, she finally decided to go stay with some of her relatives. Well, just before she left on the train, she wound went out to all our outside toilet which we call, “ The Shanty,” and while out back either by accident, but probably on purpose in order to stay with us, she dropped her purse, with the money inside, down the deep toilet hole. So, before we could read at her get rid of her, Momma had to “fish” the purse out of the “muck” of the deep toilet hole with the garden hoe in order to retrieve the money for the lady’s train ticket! The extra effort was worth it, because our lives soon got back to normal -- we rejoiced in the privacy of our family. And anyway, Momma didn’t seem to mind the role she had to play in the shanty—in fact, I think we all got a laugh out of her experience-- especially Momma!
Uncle Clarence (Momma’s youngest brother) and Aunt Florence used to come over about every Sunday. There wasn’t much to do for recreation, and since there wasn’t any church in Hiawatha, sometimes the folks would have their own form of church services in our house. Some of us kids would sit on the trunk and Dad from the Scriptures. There was lots of singing of church hymns--sometimes we gathered around the piano with part-harmony being sung by the family. I especially remember Momma’s beautiful alto voice-- I always wished I could have sang parts like her. She and Uncle Clarence had been raised in a family where harmony was sung by the family members. Sometimes they would perform at church and other places. Uncle Lyle often sang with them, too. There were stories of how my Grandfather, Franklin Pierce Hadlock, Sr., played the piano by "ear" -- in fact he once had a job as a traveling salesman selling and demonstrating pianos-- which he hauled with him from house to house with a team of horses and a wagon.
I waited too long to ask those who would have known, but I've often wondered about the musical talents of my various ancestors -- like, did they play instruments, and what kind; did they sing part harmony, and did it come naturally. I'm sure music played a big part of a person's evenings and activities in this period of time before electronics. Nevertheless, let that be a lesson for the younger generation: "ASK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"
Sometimes Momma would let me stay with Uncle Clarence and Aunt Florence. One time their son, Bobby, who was about two years old, and I (about five years old) were eating carrots. They were real little ones that had been thinned from the garden. He was putting them in my mouth, and I in return, would put them in his. Well, one time he stuck his little finger in my mouth— and I thought it was a carrot. Well, I crunched down hard. Boy, did I ever get it!
When Uncle Clarence and 26 years old, I remember that one time he came over to our house moaning in pain. He had had an accident and his hand had been cut off at work in the Hiawatha Geneva Mill. He came to our home because it was close to the mill whereas his home was some distance away. I remember Momma and Daddy sitting up all night with him. Uncle Clarence walked the floor all night because he couldn’t ease the pain. He couldn’t even lay down with his arm on a pillow Momma had fixed for him. We kids tried to sleep so we wouldn’t make any noise to disturbed him. I felt so sorry for him; I lay awake in a “fake sleep” listing to his moans and wanting to run to him and help him. I remember how Momma and Daddy tried to comfort and do everything for him.
Uncle Clarence’s hand had been so mangled from the machinery that the doctor had to cut it off. Alta remembers him bringing his hand with him, and she and Dad packed it very carefully in cotton in a cigar box. They buried it about 100 feet from the house by a telephone pole. Alta remembers how Uncle Clarence felt the pain in the location where the hand had been and how he insisted Dad dig up the hand a couple times to rearrange the fingers in a different position, because Clarence felt—or at least hoped that would ease the pain.
About the only entertainment we had in Hiawatha were the ballgames. We used to go to a lot of them with Uncle Clarence and Aunt Florence to see the different teams from the various minds compete with each other. We would get all cleaned up a put on our best clothes for the occasion. Really though, the only good thing about those ol’ ballgames, to me, was Dad would buy us something good to eat, and that is generally the reason I went!
It was different with my sister, Alta! Her group of friends had previously loosened the bottom nails to one of the boards under the grandstand-- leaving the top nails in place. Whenever the folks didn’t go to the ballgame, she and her friends had “free admission” by slipping through vulnerable spot -- one child at a time while the crowd was screaming with excitement. The children would separate and become lost in the crowd after slipping into the ball field. Somewhere among the excitement they would find a place to sit to enjoy the rest of the ballgame.
When Oma was born, the folks sent me to Uncle Clarence and Aunt Florence’s to stay. This was after the accident to his hand; LaMar or Bobby was the baby then. I had never seen a baby bottle before; therefore, I was “really” interested when I saw Aunt Florence shake milk into her mouth from the bottle. This was really a strange sight to me. I suppose my eyes were as big as saucers. Of course, now I know this was her method of testing the milk to see if it was the right temperature; however as a child, I couldn’t imagine such a strange thing!
Aunt Florence had a new phonograph on which she used to play “The Stars and Stripes Forever” over and over again. Whenever I hear that song now, I can’t help but think of my memories in my dear aunt’s home.
I remember once when Aunt Florence was visiting our home, it began to snow. By the time she was ready to leave, the snow was really quite deep. Mama let Aunt Florence borrow the baby buggy, and I remember I went home with Aunt Florence to stay a few days with them. I remember trudging through the snow and helping Aunt Florence pushed the baby in the buggy and thinking I quite a help.
One time when Dad was on night shift, he forgot -- or just plain didn’t chop and bring in the firewood before he went to sleep. Momma had mixed bread, but she had no firewood to bake it with. So, when it came time to make Dad’s lunch, she thought she would play a joke on him -- and maybe at same time teach him a little lesson. She pulled off a hunk of bread dough and put it in the bottom of the lunch pail. In the drink bottle stored in the top of pail, she filled it with a very “hot” drink. The heat from the drink cause the dough to rise nicely. At lunchtime, the men gathered at the place where they ate their lunch sitting around opening their lunches. Dad was good at telling yarns anyway, but I liked to hear him tell with his hilarious expressions of the comical events that happened when he unfastened the clamp that held the lid on the lunch pail. He tells of how the lid “popped” off and landed clear across the room!
Of course, the men had a good, rollicking laugh on Mamma's joke on Dad. It seems Momma had chopped some wood for her bread and had sent an extra lunch with Uncle Clarence, and so Dad never went without anything to eat that day, and hopefully Dad didn’t forget to chop wood anymore -- but I don’t know about that one!
Grandma Ursula Jane Durfee Hadlock lived in the Vernal, Utah area, and had recently married a widower by the name of David Timothy in November of 1914. This was during the time we lived in the "Murray/Union" area. He owned a farm in the Vernal area, but closer towards the Green River in a town called "Jensen." From this time until their deaths, we always called them, Grandma and Grandpa Timothy.
We all loved Grandpa Timothy! He was a good man and treated his new wife's family as if they were his own -- in every way. Not only was he a kind, gentle man, he was also the kind of man that allowed his wife to be an individual. He was industrious as well as religious -- I felt comfortable and safe with him. I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Timothy quite often through the next few years and I like to think I was their favorite -- that's the way they made me feel, anyway.
The first time I remember riding in a car is when we moved from Hiawatha to Vernal was probably in 1916 when Oma was a baby. My folks decided to move across the mountains over to the Vernal area. I remember Grandma and Grandpa Timothy's son, David Timothy, coming from Vernal to pick us up in Helper.
While waiting for Uncle Dave to get Helper, we had stopped to look up Mamma's father, Grandpa Franklin Pierce Hadlock, and visit with him in a local hotel. After Uncle Dave arrived, we were soon in one of those "new contraptions" – an open-air car! It was an thrilling experience to be riding so fast at about 15-20 MPH, and to feel the breeze brushing by my face. Uncle Dave drove us back to Vernal in no time through the pretty canyons on the narrow, winding dirt roads. It was surely a lot more fun – and definitely different from the Mule and wagon we always had always known – and would continue to be for a long time yet to come. Actually, I think the first vehicle we had was one that Forest had constructed out of a bunch of old car parts. We were living in California then.
To begin with, we lived in one of Grandma Timothy's houses in Vernal. She had two houses side-by-side, which were located on the main street leading to the cemetery. During the winter, it seemed the whole town was quarantined for one reason or another. There was spinal meningitis, measles, mumps, chickenpox, and whooping cough--as well as the usual winter ailments. In our family, several were down with any -- or nearly all of the above illnesses--you choose which ones! Eva and Oma were the the worst to suffer that winter. They had pneumonia along with several of the other illnesses all at same time; so, it seems to me that we were confined to the house nearly all winter long "nursing" each other.
During this time, Momma took some borders to which she gave the front room. They took a liking to me and used to play with me a lot. One time after one of them had picked me up for a fun swing in the air, I scratched my cheek on the buckle of his overalls -- which developed into a good case of infection. Actually, the borders seem to be a couple of nice guys until one night Dad wasn't home and the borders came in drunk! Momma was scared of them, so she quickly barred the door between the two apartments with the chair in order that the men couldn't come into our side of the house. The men were noisy in their drunken state, and it seemed as though they almost broke the door down, but Momma's chair held strong and fast! It seemed to be our huddled, scared family that the men were “bound and determined” to get into our side of the apartment for some reason. Momma surely had a time outsmarting them -- we were all very frightened!
I remember I got sick during that frightening night, and I felt a need to vomit pretty soon. Everyone was so scared that they begged me not to do it! They didn't want me to make that much noise, because then the drunks would know where we were--or something like that. Needless to say, "it all came out anyway!" You see, I had been to Grandma Timothy's and had made myself sick on her delicious Pottawattamie plum jam and cream. Knowing Momma, I'm sure she "laid down the law" to the men the next morning when they were sober. I bet the men conformed or moved out quite quickly! At least I don't remember any other incidents like this after that.
I remember one morning in Vernal when we were all home--as well as Uncle Clarence and Aunt Florence were visiting. Momma was getting breakfast and had just made a big pan of biscuits. They must have smelled so good that evidently two old Indian squaws, who were passing by, came right into the house without knocking. While holding open their aprons, they said, "Give me biscuit! Give me biscuit!" Well, all of us were surprised! Poor Momma was so startled, she gave the two squaws "ALL" the biscuits! Later, she had to make breakfast all over again for everyone! Momma burned her hands from getting the biscuits off the pan so quickly. Later, we laughed about it -- especially Daddy, who had fun kidding Momma about the incident for some time afterwards.
My brother, Forest, remembers the "Indian episode" another way--or perhaps there could of been two separate "Indian squaw" incidents – or, it could be that Forest was such a good story teller that he may have made the story even better -- you know how storytellers often do! Anyway, Forest said that while we were living in Vernal during the Fourth of July celebration, the folks had a lot of relatives around their long table where Momma was serving dinner when to everyone's surprise two squaws came in with gunny sacks -- you know, grain sized sacks. After looking the food over, for a moment, they started pointing to the different things on the table they wanted.
Uncle Lyle, who was visiting and who was quite a man to "kid," pointed to the biscuits in a questioning manner. The squaws nodded their heads in the affirmative; whereupon Uncle Lyle scooped several into their sack, and then told squads to leave. However, the Indian women had different ideas -- they still wanted more food. So, in a kidding way, Uncle Lyle exclaimed, "Ah, go on out and catch some prairie dogs"! Whereupon they left the house with what they had in their bags.
Momma always had quite a reputation among friends and family for her exceptional ability to cook. To illustrate what I mean, as Aunt Florence has reminisced at various times through the years, of how she would go into the Radmall home knowing that there was hardly anything to eat in the house. Aunt Florence said she would try to make an excuse to leave before dinner; however, usually before she could leave, Momma would have dinner ready. Momma was a fast, efficient woman. Aunt Florence has said many times that Momma could produce a great big wonderful meal out of what Aunt Florence thought was "nothing." Aunt Florence reflects that she would come away feeling that the food tasted better than any she had ever eaten.
Uncle Clarence felt the same way -- he enjoyed eating at our home. He thought Momma could make the best chicken dumplings. She did know just how to handle them. "Lumpy Dick" was another of Uncle Clarence's favorites. All it consisted of was some flour with a little salt and an egg rubbed in until the flour was flaky and odd shaped. Then it was stirred into scalding milk that had a little sugar and some butter included. Momma then would stir the mixture until it went thick. It was eaten with milk and sugar. We ate a lot of "Freighter Stew," as we call it. This was made by cooking thinly sliced potatoes in a little water with a little lard or bacon until they were tender and thick. Sometimes Momma would put an onion in it if we had one.
The next Spring (probably 1917) after the episode of the drunks in our house, Dad took us all to Jensen, Utah where Grandma and Grandpa Timothy lived. This was Grandpa Timothy's place. While staying in Jensen, Dad worked for Grandpa Timothy for about a month or so to earn money for a covered wagon -- after which we left the comforts of civilization to go homestead in the Colorado desert between Meeker and Rifle. Momma traded her beautiful pendant watch she wore around her neck that Dad had given her as a gift several years earlier for a team of horses. That would be the summer of 1917 -- it was before the big flu epidemic of 1918; we were living in Colorado then where Verna was born on the 22nd of December 1918.
One time in Jensen, Grandpa Timothy took us to some of his relatives -- I think it was his brother's house -- who had a huge watermelon patch. The melons were ripe and the vines were loaded, but it seems there wasn't a market for them; consequently they were spoiling in the field. Evidently, Grandpa had made arrangements to harvest some of them, because he took our family out in the wagon to get a load. It was like a picnic! We broke some of our melons open in the field and filled ourselves on the delicious luxury -- not waiting to arrive back home to eat them. Later we loaded the wagon with more delicious melons to take home and store in the root cellar. I was young, but I'll never forget the family fun, the delicious treat, and the excitement of the day in my young girls' mind.
It was in Jensen when attending church services with Grandma, that I first remember partaking of the Sacrament. I suppose it was the method of the administrating the water that was strange and seem distasteful to me that I can even remember the experience: the congregation partook of the blessed water by passing a pretty mental sacrament cup of water down the row and everyone took a sip before passing it to the next person. Now, Momma was very clean –overly teaching that principle to her children. We had been taught to avoid germs at all costs in order to prevent serious contagious, life crippling, and often fatal diseases in those days before antibiotics -- and there were a lot of them, a few among which would be the common cold, the flue, polio, tuberculosis, a whole variety of measles, mumps, cholera, chicken pox, and small pox. Momma had experienced small pox herself as a newly-wed while visiting her in-laws in Pleasant Grove. She and Uncle Ross had them together. Therefore, in my child's mind, I could see the “old mens' whiskers” (I then presumed old mens' whiskers were dirty and full of germs!) and all sorts of horrible germs contaminating the water in that “pretty cup” of which I was expected to take a sip. Right at that moment, that pretty cup didn't seem very pretty to me at all! And so, when it was my turn, I twisted the cup several times looking for a spot that might have escaped the dirty whiskers or germy lips which had previously touched it. Not trusting any particular spot on the rim that grew smaller by the second, I finally closed my eyes and hesitantly took a "tiny, eenie, weenie" agonizing sip! I expected to die any moment, but I stayed alive for days, and finally forgot I was probably going to die at any moment!
NOTE: This concludes Part I of "MY EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES." Watch for Part II entitled, "PIONEERING IN COLORADO" which will eventually be included here on this site. Or look up the book in the Card Catalog on the Internet at the Family History Library in Salt Lake City.