Shortly after moving into our new house in Edgemont mom and dad were away and us kids were home alone. The lawn in the backyard had not been planted yet and dad had his tools out so that he could work on the yard, this included his wheelbarrow. This was a big heavy duty wheelbarrow that he used for work. My sisters and I had seen him give us rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow so I thought why not give my sisters a quick spin around the backyard? Eileen climbed in and off we went. I was about 9 which would have made her about 5 – 6. She was so small that for her to be able to see she held herself up by hanging her arms over the side. Well, the wheelbarrow proved a bit harder to control than I had anticipated and before I know it we crashed dumping Eileen out, trapping her arm under the edge of the wheelbarrow breaking it at the elbow. We didn’t want to get into trouble so when mom and dad came home we told them that she fell down breaking her elbow. Mom took her to the emergency room to get it set and in a cast. They got home and Eileen was lying on the couch when there was a knock at the door. We answered and found two policemen who wanted to speak with mom and dad (they seemed huge in their uniforms and I was scared to death). Apparently the ER doctor didn’t buy mom’s explanation about how Eileen broke her elbow because that particular kind of break is usually associated with child abuse so he contacted the police to follow-up. Needless to say dad did not take too kindly to having the police show up at his door because we had lied to him. Yea, I got a whoopin… (I deserved it too)

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.

Growing up my closest friends were actually my cousins. To me cousins were such an intricate part of my life that most of my fondest memories involved my cousins on both sides of our family. Mom was very close to her sister, Aunt Joy to me, so it was only natural that Mark and I spent a lot of time together whether at my house or at his. I loved the time we spent together. I recall that we took two tin cans and connected a long string between them and tried to make walkie-talkies out of them. Even though it never really worked we sure were good a pretending that it did.

We had a blast when Mom and Aunt Joy would send us to the movies in Price. They even gave us enough to buy a treat. We would go to the matinee double feature. One summer I remember going to see Hercules several weekends in a row.

Once when we were staying with Uncle LaVell we decided that we wanted to go out to the farm for the day and ride horses. Well, no one would take us so LaVell told us that we could walk if we wanted. We were 10 years old and it was about 5 miles up the road and out across the desert. We did it! It took all day (which in hindsight was probably why LaVell told us we could go) We played in every mud puddle, nook and cranny and even stopped half way and ate a sack lunch that we packed while drinking water from our canteens. We were so grown up! I loved, loved, LOVED hanging out with my cousins all summer long.

One regret that I have is that I did not have a better relationship with Grandpa Leifson. As a result the memories that I do have of being with Grandpa stand out all the more for me. I recall staying with Grandma and Grandpa overnight one time when I was 6 or 7 years old. As I was in their kitchen I found a handheld knife sharpener and of course having never seen something like this before I had to give it a try. After drawing the knife across the sharpener a couple of times I became more and more confident and started to move faster and faster. Alas a bit too much faster, because before I even realized what had happened as I lowered the knife across the sharpener I missed and instead drew the now sharpened knife across my thumb. There was blood everywhere! Grandma thought I had cut my thumb off and in her excitement I distinctly remember her exclaiming that if I had cut my thumb off that it served me right for messin with things I shouldn’t be messin with. She wrapped a kitchen towel around it and took me to the doctor for stitches. She was so mad at me that she scolded me all the way there and back. I was scared to death and thought I would never have a thumb again. I still have the scare to this day, over fifty years later.

The next day was Sunday and Grandpa felt sorry for me so he took me to The Office with him. I was thrilled! As far as I knew he was a carpenter and I didn’t know Grandpa had an office. We got in the car together and drove downtown and when we parked I was confused because there were no offices there that I knew of. We walked around the corner and into the cafe where Grandpa sat me down on a bar stool and ordered me a chocolate milkshake and him a cup of coffee. When I finished my shake he gave me two quarters for the pinball machine. I had never seen a pinball machine and playing it with my thumb all bandaged up was a challenge. I will always remember playing there in the corner of The Office with Grandpa sitting on his bar stool sipping his coffee waiting for me to finish. This was the only occasion that I ever spent time one on one with Grandpa and I will always cherish this memory.

Cousins are awesome. At least ours were. Some of my most fun memories growing up involve my cousins. I recall a time while living in the white house in Spanish Fork that Aunt Joy came to visit and we took a picnic lunch to the park and we played and played. The swings were so fun. We would see how high we could get with the dream of going so high that we would go all the way around. We would get as high as we could then jump out and have competitions to see who could jump the farthest. We’d draw a line in the sand marking the best jump and try to better the mark. In addition to the swings the park had a huge slide. It was one of those big all metal slides that had a hump half way down. We would stand on the platform at the top and wind up swinging back and forth on the bar a couple of times to build momentum and launch ourselves down the slide often barely making contact with the slide until we were almost past the hump in the middle. 

I am not sure when he did it but dad made a little rocking horse for me. It was wooden and painted white with a black main and in my mind it could fly like the wind as I rocked back and forth. I spent hours on my horse was really able to get that horse rockin. I would lean back with all my might and have my horse tilting back to the point that we were all but toppling backwards onto the floor then with a jolt I’d fling myself forward as if I were racing down the country side then leaning back again I’d rock back gathering all my strength and rocket forward again over and over. I would scoot across the living room, down the hall and into the kitchen around the table and back again. My imagination was ever leading me up and down the paths and fields of grandpa’s farm. I loved going to the farm in Wellington where I’d ride behind my dad on a palomino named Devil as we explored the places on the farm that I was not allowed to go alone. I was in heaven spending that time with my dad. 

On Lois’ 7^th birthday I decided that as a mature 8 year old that I was getting too old for my old friend the rocking horse, so with much fan fair on my part I wrapped it up in a blanket and that evening when we were exchanging gifts I dragged it down the hall and presented it to her. I felt as if I was giving her the most magnanimous gift that she could ever receive and she was thrilled. That rocking horse was handed down to each of my siblings and was a part of our home for as long as I can remember.