Said Ben

On the way home from preschool:

Ben: I wish I was Carter.  (a friend from his class)

Me: Oh? Why?

Ben:  I like his voice.

Me: {Holding in laughter during a conversational pause}

Ben: I fink I'm just gonna call myself Carter.

Me:  Okay, Carter.

Ben:  {big smile}

Later that night:

Ben: {calling from his bed} MOM!

Mom: WHAT?  {maybe not super cheerfully because it was not the first time he called from his bed and dad had been out of town for two weeks}

Ben:  You forgot to call me Carter!

Mom:  Goodnight, Carter.

Ben:  {big smile as he settles into his pillow}

On the way home from Cole's basketball game:

Ben:  That's not how many I wanted! {said upon opening the Chips Ahoy pack Cole had kindly shared with him}

Cole:  Sorry, Ben.  That's all there was.

Ben:  Well, it's okay.  I like..............{pause while Ben looks at his hand to count the cookies}............this many.

On Sunday morning:

Ben: {fake cough, fake cough, fake cough}  I fink I'm too sick to go to my class today.

Mom: {ignores Ben}

Ben: {fake cough, fake cough, fake cough}  I fink I'm too sick to go to my class today.

Mom:  Where will you go?

Ben:  I'll just stay with you.

Mom: {remembers that Ben had to stay with her two weeks ago when he was too sick to go to class and Mommy had to teach sharing time and Daddy was on a plane to Chile - bad precedence}  Sorry Ben.  You've got to go to your class.

Ben:  Ahhhh.  That's not fair!

During dinner one night:

Mom:  Where would you like to go on your mission?

Ben:  Antafrica

Driving in the car with mom:

Ben:  Boy, Jesus had a really good idea to send me to you cause you love me so much.

Indeed, Ben.  It was a really good idea and I do love you so much.

 

Things I Miss #7: Grandpa Max

I miss my Grandpa Max.  Of all the 35 things I'm planning to write about, this might be the thing I miss the most. I have so many good memories of him and so many stories, but today's is a little tender.

Today is the 20th anniversary of his death.  That's a lot of years.  Like with most things, time is funny related to his death.  In some ways, it seems like a million years since I've seen with him and talked with him and learned from him.  But my mind and heart hold so many memories that I really can still hear his voice and his wheezy laugh (darn asthma!) and picture his walk and his somewhat slouched stance as he surveyed the fields. 

I have countless Grandpa Max stories and I hope that through the years, I get them written down for my family to remember.  I've written about my Grandpa Max before and when I did, I wrote that someday I would tell Cole (and all my kids) about what a great missionary he was and how he died.  I guess that day is today, so here it goes.

When I was a little girl, Grandpa Max often talked about when he and Grandma Donna would serve a mission.  It didn't make me very excited.  I think he regretted that he didn't serve when he was younger and really wanted the chance to be a missionary.  When their mission calls came, they came separately and Grandma Donna's came before Grandpa Max's.  He joked that they didn't want him.  She waited until his came and they opened their calls together.  They were sent to Arizona.  After a few weeks in the MTC, their mission president sent them directly to their first area in Tuba City.  It was in the heart of the Navajo reservation and they knew it as soon as they got there.  Grandma tells of being so scared the first night that after they said their prayer and got in bed, they were still feeling troubled, so Grandpa said, "Donna, that prayer didn't work," and they climbed out of bed and tried again.

They loved mission life there in Tuba City and the people loved them.  After their first year there, they came home and spent the summer on the farm and then went back for a second mission to the same place.  Years later, I was in Tuba City testing children in the schools there.  I stopped by the church one evening just to see if there were any of their old friends there.  Half an hour later, I was in the home of one of his baptisms - the investigator that Grandma Donna says taught him patience - who went on to serve as the bishop.  Their family and I talked until late in the night sharing Grandpa Max stories.  He was loved; there was no doubt.

The next mission was to Sun City, Arizona for another six months.  It was a retirement community and he thought the people there were too stubborn and set in their ways, but they served faithfully anyway.

Throughout the mission years, his health became an increasing concern.  He started having anaphylactic shock reactions around the time they started serving missions.  The first one came in response to a bee sting.  He was out farming and I remember so clearly how scary it was to hear his voice over the radio calling for help and staying in touch with us as he drove into town to get help.  He carried his epi pen kit everywhere the last few years of his life because the reactions just kept coming.  Subsequent reactions were not to bee stings and despite countless tests and doctor visits, they never could identify the cause.  

Before their fourth mission, the doctor signing the medical permission slip noted that he had to serve near a hospital.  I don't remember exactly how near the doctor specified, but I do know that when the mission president sent him to Gila, New Mexico - 45 minutes from the hospital in Silver City - some of my family members were concerned.  But he loved Gila and went right to work.  He loved teaching the gospel.  One Wednesday afternoon, I went to my friend Heather's house after school.  After a while, I called my mom to pick me up.  When she showed up, her mom was in the car with her.  I thought it was strange because even though her parents only lived ten minutes away, they never came to visit us.  Never.  When we got home, my mom told me my Grandpa died that day.  After he ate his lunch, he couldn't breathe.  He and my Grandma Donna hopped in the truck and gave him his shot, but my Grandma says the reaction was so severe, he was gone just a few short minutes into the drive.  His last words to her were simply, "Donna, I'm not gonna make it."  I can't image what an awful, lonely drive into Silver City that was.

After I heard the news, I went straight to my room and started writing in my journal.  I'm kind of a loner at heart.  My sisters, meanwhile, would have made the Polynesians proud with the wailing and stomping that ensued when they received the news.  

This is, obviously, not a very cheerful thing to write about, but it was an important part of my life.  The summer before he died, my grandpa and I were pulling Dyer's Woad together in a gulley on the Washboards.  As we walked, he stumbled a bit.  In that moment, I knew he wasn't going to live much longer.  It was a powerful feeling, but not necessarily scary.  I just knew.  A few weeks before he died, I was praying.  I don't remember what I was praying about, but when I finished, I had a powerful feeling that the plan of salvation is true.  That feeling was followed by the thought that something bad was going to happen, but that it would be okay.  While I was in my room, the memory of these feelings came back to me and I knew the Holy Ghost had prepared me for his death.  I didn't like it and I was terribly sad, but I felt comfort in knowing that the Holy Ghost knew and loved me enough to prepare me for his death.

The sting of his death is gone, but I will forever miss him.  He was just such a great guy.  He was a powerful leader and teacher, but he was one of my best friends too.  On Sunday, he'd get after us for not keeping the Sabbath Holy and on Monday, he'd give himself an asthma attack jump roping with his granddaughters.  His legacy of hard work and faith and dedication continues to be a powerful influence in my life.  

Sometimes, my natural man rules a little too strongly and I wonder just how this gospel can really work.  But on good days, the memory of the feelings I had after he died and the Holy Ghost touching my heart still burn bright and I know with a surety that I will see him again. 

I love you, Grandpa Max.  Thanks for the memories.

Things I Miss #'s 2-6 {Newton}

It's no secret that I have a love affair with my hometown.  I was just such a lucky duck to grow up there.  I could easily make this entire list of 35 things I miss all about things from Newton.  But, for now, I'll stick with a short list.  Although don't be surprised if a few more sneak up somewhere along the line.  It really is Zion.

#2: Night Games - My neighborhood gang was pretty fun.  We played all summer long at the nearby creek.  We had clubs in the community tree house.  We played Olympics in our backyards.  It was a great group and the thing I miss the most is Night Games.  Kick the Can.  No Bears are Out Tonight.  Sardines.  Such great games.  We usually played at the Petersen's and my Grandma's houses because they were right together.  I know lots of kids have the privilege of night games fun with their friends, but I'd be surprised if very many played as often as our little group.  Good times. 

#3: Newton Water - This might seem a little random, but Newton has, hands down, the best water in the world.  It is just so good.  And always cold, especially at my parents house.  The water at my house is pretty good (thank goodness!), but I'm certain that nothing can beat Newton's water.

#4: The Newton Church House - A few years ago, they tore down the old church in Newton to build a cookie-cutter new one.  To say I was unhappy is an understatement.  I'm a traditionalist and I do not like change.  I loved our old church.  I loved the big painting on the stand.  I loved the large stage that we always seemed to migrate to after Young Women's activities.  I loved the back staircase.  I loved the tunnels under the stage.  I loved the ghost stories my dad told about the church.  I loved the huge Relief Society room.  I loved the big staircase I would often slide down (much to my mother's chagrin).  I loved being in the Bishop's office and looking at the pictures of my grandpa Max and my dad from when they were the Bishop.  I loved the big kitchen.  I really loved that place and I especially loved knowing my parents and grandparents and even my great-grandparents (a couple of times) went to church there.  It's nice to go to new churches and know where everything is since they are all the same these days, but I liked it when churches had a little more character and a unique feel.  Newton's was a good one...

#5:  Sand Volleyball - When I was a young teenager, one of the boys from town (Shad Roundy, I think) built a sand volleyball court in the park.  It was a good project.  It still gets used a lot (those 24th of July competitions can get a little fierce).  Somehow, my group of high school friends found out about it, and during the summer time not a week went by that we weren't up there playing at least a few nights.  It had lights that would stay on until 11:00 and we always played til the bitter end - and then sat around talking once they were off.  It's funny that we played in Newton so much because it's definitely out of the way for most people - maybe it's because the court was usually free and the sand was so soft.  I loved it when a carload of my friends would stop in and grab me (and my ball - sometimes they probably had me come just cause they forgot theirs) for a game of volleyball.  Those were good times - lots of good kids having clean fun.  Every teen should have a memory like that.

#6: Running - My love of running may never have gained speed without Newton.  When I was about 11 years old, a group of us trained to run the Newton Dam 5K race.  We would practice in the evenings to get ready for the big 24th race.  One time, Kelli had an asthma attack just as she passed the cemetery and when I came along a few minutes later, she gasped out my name in the darkness.  I nearly died of fright, but it's a good memory now.  I won the women's division that year - which probably wasn't that hard given the number of participants, but my time was around 22 minutes so not bad for an 11-year-old (sadly, I have not gotten faster).  I ran it every year and it got me into the habit of running for fun.  When I started running track in high school, I developed the habit of heading up the mountain by our house or running to the dam or the cemetery.  I love running there - it's so easy to be alone.  I crave solitude and it was easy to find.  I still love running and have some pretty good routes by my house, but I'm not sure the habit would have developed as naturally without that dam race (sorry mom, couldn't resist) to get me going.


Newton was and is a great place.  There is something powerful about everyone caring for everyone else.  I loved going to church after a track meet and having some adult congratulate me on a win or after a BYU football win and getting to tease the Aggie fans about it.  Growing up there really influenced who I am and I feel a little guilty almost every day that my kids don't have that same experience.  I know people will say something like, "oh there's good people everywhere" and it's certainly true.

 But still, Newton has the best people ever. 

Rock City in the Snow

In the summer, one of our favorite places to go is Rock City, which should not be confused with the real Rock City in Idaho.  This is just a little trail near our house that my children have dubbed Rock City because, and this should be obvious, there are a lot of rocks there.  Really big rocks that make me wonder what sort of geological event resulted in their appearance.  

 

We headed up there the other day for a little snowshoeing and hiking fun.  It was a pretty day and good we went before the Heavens answered our fast with buckets of rain because now I'm sure it is a great mud bog.  

 

The best part of the hike?  When Cole looked back at me and realized I was carrying Molly, Ben's snow stompers, Annie's hat, Ben's lunch box, and someone's gloves.  He instantly ran back and grabbed everything he could to help me.  Aw.  Made me so proud.   

 And these smiling faces?  They just made me happy.

I'm lucky.  I guess that's the moral of the story.

Becoming Picasso

So the preschool art show.  It's kinda amazing.  I mean, people just walk around in awe.  Our preschool teacher chooses a famous artist for each year's show and then the kids select one of his (or her, although it has always been a man) paintings and paints a copy of it.  

And they are just so incredible.  This year's artist was Picasso and Ben chose "Enamel Saucepan."  Here is Picasso's rendering:

And here's Ben's version:

 You're impressed, aren't you?  The teacher doesn't physically help them paint, but they do mix colors for them and use a pointer to help them figure out proportions and stuff.  But still, he's three.  It's awfully impressive.  

And he was pretty proud.  We all were.  Great job, Benny!

Siete

 My gosh I love this little girl.  She had another birthday, ya know.  Seven months just in case you don't know what siete means.  

So here's the seven-month scoop on our little Molly Dolly.

-She got her first two teeth this month.  All 4 of my children got their first teeth within a month of turning 6-months-old.  We are not big on genetic diversity around here.

-She is an excellent sitter and scoots all over the place on her little bum.  You set her down and look back and she has spun around and scooted across the floor.

-She is just starting to think about crawling.  We don't mind if she spends a whole lot of time thinking about it.

-She has really started babbling this month.  "Da-da-da-da" is of course her favorite.  I'd be jealous if it wasn't so darn cute.  Seriously so cute.  

-She says, "mmm, mmm, mmm" when you are eating something she wants and gets upset if you don't share.

-She just keeps wrapping us tighter and tighter around her little finger.  Every single one of us and not one of us wants to be unwound. 

Oh little Sweetie-kins, thank you for being our darling.

Things I Miss #1

When I was younger, I really liked my birthday.  And yeah, I kinda still do.  From February 6th (120 days out) until June 6th, I always had a running countdown and knew how many days it was until my birthday.  When I was turning 30, I had fun doing a 30 by 30 list of things.  I'm hitting another milestone this year - 35!  So to help me celebrate my birthday, I'm making a list of 35 things I miss from my childhood or things that have changed or just memories I have.  Floyd asked me a few weeks ago who I write this blog for (which, when I write it like that, sounds a little rude, but it really wasn't - we were just talkin':).  I think I write it mostly for my kids - so that they'll have a record of their lives.  I guess I hope that maybe someday they'll find some of these memories interesting.

So, to cut off this long-winded soliloquy, here's #1:

ZCMI.  Yep, I'm starting there.  I really, totally, seriously, all the time miss ZCMI.  In case my kids some day read this and don't know what ZCMI was, it stands for Zions Cooperative Mercantile Institution.  It was a department store that made its debut during pioneer times and weathered economic ebbs and flows all the way until 2000.  And boy oh boy did I spend a lot of time there!  There weren't a lot of shopping options in Cache Valley when I was a kid - basically just the mall and Kmart.

ZCMI was just a perfect department store.  The shoe department rocked ( I still own a pair of shoes my Grandma Donna bought me there when I was 14).  I can see myself in the dressing rooms and can even remember some of the things I tried on. All my Guess and Z Cavaricci jeans came from there.  Back-to-school shopping always included a lengthy stop at ZCMI and I have no trouble recalling the bovine-like bellows little Jake made while rolling on the floor as his three older sisters took their time making selections.  I remember the second I spotted my first pair of pierced earrings on display.  My 12th birthday and the promised piercing was still a few months away, but I convinced my mom to buy those earrings anyway because I loved them oh so very much.  And of course, I can tell you exactly where the Esprit bag display was.  I really wish I had kept one of those Esprit bags.  They would make such excellent church bags!

Before Floyd left on his mission, we spent a little time doing some last-minute mission shopping while I was home on Christmas break.  He needed to get some towels, so I of course led him to the housewares section of ZCMI (northeast quarter of the store you'll recall).  We picked up a couple of towels and when he showed his mom, she rolled her eyes and told us that you shouldn't buy towels there because they were overpriced.  I was shocked and a little offended because where else would one buy towels?  When we got married four years later and he packed those towels into our first little apartment, it was a redeeming moment.  You can't beat quality!

Probably my favorite part of ZCMI?  This will surprise no one.  It was the candy counter.    That place was a miracle.  I don't know if my mom was just indulgent or if we needed a lot of bribing, but trips to ZCMI always always ALWAYS included a stop by the candy counter and each of us four kiddos secured our own little white bag of sugary fun.   What is wrong with department stores today?  Why are there no candy counters?  Don't they know how much money harried mothers would spend there? 

So.  That's ZCMI for you.  Anyone else miss it?

And, just in case you wondered, 117 days:).