This is the first time I got trampled by a bull. I rode it all the way. I just remember I was getting up and I looked up and that bull was right on me. I flattened right down and he caught my head and stomped on my shirt, and passed...
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The summer of 2009 a strong impression came to me, even urgent feeling, to go home to Colorado to transcribe and publish my parents and grandparents life stories. In Nauvoo, Illinois, 25 years earlier I videotaped my parent’s life story and they in turn videoed my grandparents. I thought our family...
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I do not know what age I stopped calling my Dad Daddy, but I know I made a concerted effort to be more grown up. These are the tender experiences that make him Daddy to me. My Dad went to school and worked two jobs in Idaho before I attended first...
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Dad was a big boy, a 13 pound baby at birth. The youngest of five children raised in the depression, from a broken family. He lived alone during most of his formative teen age years. He worked as a cowboy, and was fun loving, but not focused on his education. He...
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My Grandpa Fairchild was one of the roughest toughest cowboys I knew. I watched him jump on a horse that was stomping in circles, not cooperating with the rider. He would jump on the saddle and talk firmly and make them mind until they knew who was boss. In high school...
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The smell of cinnamon Snickerdoodles, fudge icing, and dried rose petals transports me back to my Grandma and Grandpa’s farmhouse. It was always exciting to travel to Idaho in July to see relatives. It was a long drive and took most of the day. Driving northwest to Idaho, and then a...
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Thanksgiving celebrating means different things to different people even within the same family! My husband Tom grew up in the South and my young years were spread all over the country thanks to Dad’s Air Force career. I’ll begin with my experiences and relate how they fit...
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Adelbert Ross Crosby, Jr. was the first child and only son of an impatient and cantankerous man whose main virtues were to teach “Bert” a lifelong love of mechanical equipment and of guns for their deer hunting expeditions. Bert openly expressed love for his mother and respect for his father. ...
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My fourth great grandfather Alexander MacLean, Sr. was born in 1709 on the Isle of Mull. His mother died the night he was born. His father left Mull bringing young Alexander to County Antrim, Ireland, where his father remarried. Sometime between 1725 and 1730 young Alexander sailed from County Antrim to...
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Teenagers and their grandparent’s generation have more in common than most believe, and they have mutual gifts to offer one another. Creating an intergenerational legacy is among the most rewarding and memorable projects they can share. In an online article entitled Understanding the Elderly, Dr. Beverly Block, a staff psychotherapist with...
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My mother loved to look beautiful and she wanted her children to look lovely too. Because of her sewing talent provided many cute outfits for all of her children. Several years she would make all the girls matching dresses for Easter. A few experiences were...
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Lana one time when she was a little girl, she must have been about the second grade. We always got catalogs and even then our kids loved the catalogs and they would look all the way through them. She spotted a doll in the catalog and it was a Betsy...
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My Artist Mother I see my mother at the table sketching, painting, working on crafts for relief society, and cutting silhouettes for posters. Everything she worked on she would share some paper, paint, or beads with her kids so we could play too. I am sure it was messy at times,...
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A True Samson He was the first-born to Arthur Benton and Leva Mae Carriker in 1898. I never knew who named him or why they chose such a peculiar middle name, for it was truly a curious choice. I have never known or heard of any person outside of the...
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The gene pool from which American families draw is a wondrous palette onto which our “Artist-Creator dips his brush. The genes floating in that pool are as countless as the stars, making it possible for Him to send several children to the same parents: Children who, while sharing some commonalities, are...
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On the road… again! Afghanistan to Zambia Chronicles of a Footloose Forester By Dick Pellek From Cabo Verde To Coraopolis By no means has the Footloose Forester been designated to be the family historian, thus his chronicles about family members have been spotty and more happenstance than deliberate and planned. ...
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The Pirate and The Poet He was twelve years older than me and cut from an entirely different cloth. He was my brother, and although we both felt fraternal love we had little in common other than genes and parents. He was first-born. I was last. He was born...
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Since publishing BIG WAVE - CAPSIZED I sent the story to my cousin Kitty Susan Hylton, who was struggling with me in the water. After reading my account of that July 4th day in 1965, Susie sent some details I had forgotten. Our rescuers were not deputy sheriffs but county game wardens. One of...
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His presence on a leather seat, my work was always there Warm and softly breathing, i could touch upon his hair First his head and then his back, turning to and fro The daily grind made better by, a buddy soon to go Early morn to dusk each...
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Today my family shared a very sad experience. Our long-time loyal friend Bob, our family dog for almost 15 years, was put to perpetual sleep. This is not the first time we have made the decision to euthanize a family member. We still covet the ashes of Lillian, the equally loyal...
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