Dad's Story Part 5

Willis holding the dog

             

 After working at the Salt Lake City office of the Continental Oil Company for four years Dad was given the opportunity to transfer to Wieser, Idaho and become the district superintendent.  This was an important promotion for a young man just twenty-six years old, and was the beginning of a series of promotions and a career with the Continental Oil Co. that lasted about twenty years.  It ended in Great Falls, Montana during the great depression of 1929 to 1934.  In 1933 the economy was so bad that the company had to shut many of their offices, laying off hundreds of their employees.  After working up to assistant Division Manager, Dad found himself unemployed at the age of 39.  But back to 1920 and Wieser, Idaho. 

Outside the screen porch

Wieser Years

            Wieser is situated on the east bank of the Snake River about one hundred miles northwest of Boise, Idaho.  When we lived there between 1920 and 1924, it was a thriving little farming community.  We lived in two different houses in Wieser.  The first one was a little white frame house that faced the west.  There was a huge yard to the south of the house with a hedge around it.  The yard was covered with grass and had several shade trees on it.  Our next-door neighbor to the east of us was Dr Conant.  They lived in a large two story red brick house, and had a little girl about my age.  He was a medical doctor.

            The first year that we lived there I became very sick.  The doctor thought I had the measles, but I did not break out in the typical red rash.   Mother called in the Elders to administer to me.  Afterwards she put me in a hot bath.  The next day I broke out from head to toe and looked like a strawberry.  I had to stay in a darkened room fro about a week to protect my eyes. 

            It was while living here that I began my school career.  I remember well the excitement of the first day of school.  Mother had me all shined up, and dressed in new clothes.  I remember standing by the old cook stove eating a bowl of oatmeal mush is great haste so as not to be late.  Mother went with me the first day.  On the second day I was to go by myself.  Mother sent me off, but I was afraid to face the new world all alone.  So, instead of going to school I sneaked off somewhere in the neighborhood and never did make it to school.  However, once I got used to the idea of going to school, I enjoyed it very much.  I had a very good first grade teacher.  I don’t remember her name, but I remember that she taught us how to read by the phonics method. 

Frank, Willis, and Duke

      After about two years we moved to a bigger and better house on North Main Street in Wieser.  This house had a large “screened” porch across the front.  It was on this porch that Mother kept her canary birds in the summer time.  It was while living here that many “firsts” occurred in my life.  It was here that I acquired my first dog, a half-breed bird dog named Duke.  We got him when he was just a puppy. 

            I got my first “B-B” gun, and “accidentally” shot my first mourning dove with it.  This made me feel very sad, because I loved animals and birds and have always wanted to protect them rather than destroy them.  This is probably the reason why I have never enjoyed the sport of hunting, and have never done it, with the exception of shooting prairie dogs near Great Falls, Montana. 

Willis and BB gun

            It was a short distance north of our second home in Wieser, that I learned to swim in a little pond formed by a dam across a large irrigation ditch.  I was about seven or eight years old then.  I’m sure Mother was not aware of this activity, because I do not remember any adults being present.

         

Another summer activity that was very popular was the

occasional visits to the Sandpits. Mother usually went along with

these excursions and brought along a lunch. All the kids in the

neighborhood went along, and we had great fun sliding down the

steep banks of the pit, covering one another up with the sand (up to

our necks), and building sand castles, etc.

The Sandpits
Willis buried in sand
Frank and a dog

A Little Lady's Man

Swimmin'

Mom's Story Part 8

            Our home was the gathering place for all the neighborhood kids because of the big lawns that surrounded our house.  Such fun we had playing “New York”, “Last Couple Out” etc.  But on the street in front of our house was one of the few street lights in town and it was under that street light we planned our stratagem for the great game of “Run Sheep Run” – all ages of kids and from all corners of town came to play that game.  The town was our playground. 

            I was always a good runner.  I was good in gymnastics and could do most anything like that, but I was a terrible baseball player.  I was scared to death if the ball was thrown to me.  I’ve never been a very avid sports fan. 

            A lot of memories were connected with my sisters and the fun we had at home.  My sister Mayola was the leader or “boss” as we called her, of the neighborhood kids.  What she couldn’t think of was not worth much anyway.  She was fearless.  One thing she was particularly apt with was putting on plays.  She gave no thought to digging out Mother’s good quilts from the old quilt box down the basement – stringing them across the basement bedroom for curtains.  The plays were dramatic productions and of course, she was always the script writer and director.  Louise and I followed willingly.  I can still remember how tickled Louise would get.  She laughed so hard she couldn’t make it to the bathroom, and that made the situation even funnier.  Oh, my, how did Mother stand it?  Many of her best quilts had holes in the corners of them from the hard use; one curtain call after another! 

            As I said before, we always had a barn full of hay, a chicken coop, cows, and a few horses.  One old horse that Dad couldn’t use on his road jobs was Old Doc.  He was partially crippled; had a big knot on his knee, but was a good horse for plowing and working around the farm.  I used to ride him while my Dad plowed.  One day he stepped into a gopher hole with me on top.  He lost his balance and fell down.  I jumped to safety and ran over into the currant bushes nearby and began to pray.  When Dad came to get me he said, “Are you hurt?  What are you doing in there?”  My response was, “No, Daddy, I’m not hurt, I’m praying… that you won’t get mad at Old Doc!”  I think Doc got off easy that day.