After a year of anticipation we finally moved into our new house in Edgemont. Dad had made a deal with his bosses to purchase a building lot in a new development that they were developing. Moving away from Spanish Fork to this neighborhood was a big deal! He was one of the first to buy a lot in the newly created neighborhood. When we moved in there were only 4 other homes on the whole circle. Our house was surrounded by alfalfa fields. There were rabbits everywhere and we could always hear the song of a Meadow Lark singing “Utah is a wonderful place to live” (at least that is what Mom told me they were singing)

I remember standing with Mom and Dad in the gravel road in front of our lot and Dad picking me up in his arms and telling me that this is where we were going to live once he finished building our home. He talked about how fun it was going to be to sit on the balcony and enjoy the panoramic view of the valley.

When Dad was ready to get his building permits the blue prints were not quite ready but he was good friends with the building inspectors in the city offices and because he was so excited to get started he took a piece of sheetrock that he had drawn up his house plans on into the inspectors office and talked them into issuing him a permit so he could get started with the promise that as soon as the blue prints were finished he’d bring them in for official stamps.

Dad was thrilled to be working on his own home. He worked every evening and every weekend. He borrowed a bulldozer to dig the foundation and did everything he could on his own. The things he couldn’t do himself like plumbing and electrical he’d work out deals with friends to do the specialized work on his house and he’d help them with one of their projects.

My favorite Saturday afternoon’s that summer was spent with Mom and my sisters taking a picnic lunch to our Dad while he was working on the house. After eating us kids would play and play. I vividly recall how Mom kept freaking out as us kids would run around on the subfloor before there were any walls. She was sure one of us would fall off the edge or down the stairwell. We loved the huge mounds of dirt. We’d make roads and little tunnels and play like we were driving our toy cars up, down and all around the hills. We’d climb to the top and slide or roll all the way to the bottom.

After months and months of hard work it was finally finished to a point that we could move in. I still remember the smell of the new house. I loved the soft carpet and the large snack bar in the kitchen that we could sit around as a family and use as our table. Mom and Dad even had a bathroom with a shower in their bedroom. Everything was wonderful and new and we were all so excited.

Mom and Dad were proud of their new home and grateful for all of the good friends who helped make it a reality. 35 years later when helping Mom and Dad pack up as they were getting ready to move out Dad made the comment to me about how grateful he was to his father. He went on to explain his thoughts saying that even though his father and brother had not helped him build his house at all grandpa had given him the skills allowing him to build our home and he felt blessed.