Me the Roofer

The summer before I graduated form USU, 1980, I went to Salt Lake to work with my Dad. school, my dad hired me to help him with his roof.  He was remodeling his home in Salt Lake City, and I spent much of he summer with him, when I wasn't busy with work in Hyrum. 
I had never done anything like this, but my Dad showed me how to use the shingling hammer, and move the supports as I needed to. 

 My Dad put in that front window, but the first window was defective, so he and I had to exchange it and put in another window.  We also remodeled inside, enlarging the bathroom, and moving the kitchen to make another bedroom.

That is me way up there

The Kid's Card for My Birthday

Happy 56th Birthday Dad!
Here are 56 reasons we love having you as our dad!
1. Whistling
2. Singing in sacrament meeting
3. Stamp collecting
4. Your Heart Will Burn
5. Lemon Icies
6. Driving to seminary
7. Rides to the deep end of the pool
8. Blogging
9. Foster care
10. Rolling down the hill at John Mise Park
11. Scouts
12. "Don't break your toe"
13. Hop on Pop
14. Teaching Sunday School
15. Baseball umpire, Moreland Little League
16. Dollar Store Trips
17. Tator tots, Dad's breakfast cooking
18. Head locks and noogies
19. Indian chant and babies sleeping on your chest
20. Soccer and baseball coaching
21. Family history and trips to historical sites
22. Priesthood blessings
23. "Dame la mano"
24. Christmas talent show
25. Laying under the stars
26. Driving at night, family vacations
27. Dad acting like Santa Claus
28. Dry shaves
29. Our crafts in your office at work
30. Temple pageant
31. Letters-your handwriting
32. Newspaper swords
33. Sitting in the front at movie theaters
34. No bears are out tonight
35. Donkey at Christmas
36. Learning to ride a bike
37. Books-reading-presents
38. Snuggling in the crook of your arm
39. Church choir
40. Wood projects-barbie house, Noah's ark, desks
41. Laying on the floor-falling asleep anywhere
42. Hiking
43. "Mental health crisis line" hard working
44. Musicals
45. Driving on your lap in the parking lot
46. Dressing as pumpkin patch-Halloween
47. Chewing on grass
48. Belting out songs
49. Jane Austen obsession
50. Throwing us in the air at the pool
51. Temple trips
52. Drumming on your belly
53. Outdoor sports
54. Dates with Daddy
55. Take your kid to work days
56. "Bridge Over Troubled Water"
Lots of Love
Charity, Miranda, Jeremy, Caleb, Tony

Beauty Contest Winner

I have no memory of it, but I was a beauty contest winner at nine months.  My mom received a free portrait of me as the prize.

Othello: Stubbed Toe

I loved to go barefooted.  And by going barefoot my feet were pretty tough.  One time I remember my brother Weldon being barefoot and struggling to walk I across some gravel.  I showed him how it was done by running across.  My mom had a hard time getting shoes on me.  I sure I would have gone to church barefooted if I could get away with it.
Even though I could run across gravel, I learned that freshly cut alfalfa was much worse.  My father took us with him to haul hay.  He suggested shoes but I declined.  I had walked on alfalfa before, of course when is was full and bushy.  This freshly cut stuff was a  different story.  It was like walking on pokey sticks.  I was at a lost, and I struggled to get to the edge of the field. 
The other drawback to running on rocks was the occasional stubbed toe.

This is not my toe, but shows a stubbed toe

I had my share, and they usually required my father to trim the nail with scissors, and then apply hydrogen peroxide. I thought that bubbly stuff would be the end of me.  I would blow on it, trying to over come the stinging.

My Wedding Day, August 11, 1983

Sheri and I were married a week after I had started a new job in Duckwater

This made for an interesting weekend.  We were married on Thursday.  We had an open house that evening in Hyrum.  When then took a day to travel and had a reception in Altamont on Saturday.  We traveled to Duckwater on Sunday, where we made our first home.

 We were married in the Provo Temple, in the morning.  My mother put on a wedding breakfast for us in Lindon at the home of a friend.  Sheri was beautiful  I love that woman.

Hyrum

Uncle Norval and Aunt Delsa

 The open house was in Hyrum Civic Center.  Dad came and his girlfriend caused a disturbance.  He gave us a casserole dish.  We had a hotel room for the night in Logan Connie and Kelly had gotten for us.  It was across for J.B.'s so we at there.  The next morning, Uncle Marvin woke us up very early pounding on the door.  He was always playing a joke.
I had the task of packing up my bedroom, and then we headed for Roosevelt, spending the night at Midway where they had a nice swimming pool from a hot spring.

She is still beautiful

 In Altamont/Bluebell receptions are different than Hyrum.  In Hyrum everyone just goes through the line and then sit and chats with those who are there.  In Altamont there was also a program.  I sang "Bridge over Troubled Water."  I attempted to play, but half way through I gave that up and just sang.

Cliff and Judy

Monte Bolton, second from right

Monte Bolton supervised my field placement in Roosevelt, and he more than anyone helped get Sheri and I together.  When I met Sheri, I went to him with questions about Sheri and her family.  He lived in Bluebell which is where Sheri is from.  Bluebell is a very small town.    Uncle Jerry and Aunt Judy manned the table as people came in.   As part of the program Sheri's brothers sand a version of Billy Boy.  They changed some of the words to make it funny, but as my mother sang that song to me as I was growing up that was OK.




Uncle Jerry and Aunt Judy manned the reception table as people entered

 I also sang a song I had heard Brother John Brenchely sing in the ward in Hyrum a Mothers Day tribute, "Visions."  Sheri's mom played for me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-IcWE9tSJc
I like this song and it had a theme Sheri and I both were in tune with.
I remember we served cream puffs.  I love cream puffs.

with my mom

Sheri's folks

Wedding Party

My family

Best Men are my brothers

Brides Maids

Sheri's family

 The reception also included a time for picture taking.  This was actually before the reception.  Sheri's brothers decorated our car.  They made a big mess, but we went strait to the car wash on the way out of town and washed all the shaving cream away.  We stayed in Roosevelt, and went to church in Roosevelt First Ward before heading to Duckwater.

Billy Wardle: My History written in 1983

Billy Wardle: written in 1983 for Uncle Norval’s book
I was born in Othello, Washington.  Even though our family had lived in Othello for some time I was the first to actually be born in Othello, as there was a new doctor there and I was born in his office.  Charlie was also born in Othello, in a new hospital three years later.  I weighed in at eight pounds eight ounces on August 5, 1957.  Mom says I was a beautiful baby with lots of black hair and when I was eleven month old I won a beauty contest.  Mom has a picture of me that she won from the contest.  Modestly speaking, I was a cute baby.
While I was a baby, Grandpa Charles James Wright (on my mother’s side) died.  I was only eight months old and never had a chance to meet him.
As a family we left Othello and the farm when I was six and in the first grade at Hiawatha elementary School.  As I was young I have few memories of Othello.  I do remember playing football with Weldon, the big dog we had, the numerous cats, and a big canal by our house.  Our old red pickup made a weird noise when it started.  I also remember the potato plants, and the alfalfa and corn fields where you could go and relax, and hide.
From Othello we went to live with Grandma Wright.  We did make a detour to Disneyland over Christmas vacation.  This is the only time I’d been to Disneyland.  It was also my first experience with seeing the ocean.
We stayed at Grandma Wright’s for the rest of the school year.  While there I attended Lincoln Elementary School (where my mother had also gone to grade school.)  I enjoyed living in Lincoln with Grandma, but did not enjoy school life.  The demands were much different than my previous school, and the trauma of meeting friends was a bit too much.
At the end of school we moved to Cache Valley.  We first lived in Providence for three months, and then moved to Hyrum into the house where we now live.
During the three years we lived there while my father returned to school I was closest to two friends, Todd Nielson and Denny McClain.  The three moves with in a year’s time had affected my confidence.  I attended Lincoln School in Hyrum for three years.  While there I gained some confidence in my scholastic ability.  When my dad finished school it again meant a move.  This time we moved to Illinois.  My dad took a position at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale as a librarian.
There I first attended Parrish Elementary; a new school not far from our house.  The second year I attended Unity Point School, which had grade from kindergarten through eighth grade.  Weldon also attended this year with Charles and me.  Weldon played on the basketball team.  I played some basketball, but not much.  While in Illinois I was a player on the championship Little-league baseball team.  My favorite friends were Dan and Don McKess.  We had a good time our second year as we lived in an apartment complex close to a park.  In the complex there was an abundance of kids with whom to play.
After two years in Illinois we moved back to Hyrum.  I attended South Cache Junior High School the next three years and graduated from there.  While there I participated in two musicals, ninth grade football and track, intramural wrestling and seminary.  I participated in Scouts and among other badges; I earned my “mile swim” award.
From South Cache I went to Sky View High School.  I finished my Eagle during this time.  At Sky View I participated in Spanish Club, debate, choir, two musicals and one drama production.  My favorite classes were creative writing, debate and Spanish.  While playing Pony league, the summer before my sophomore year, in a tournament in Soda Springs, Idaho, I bunted the ball and broke my arm when I tangled with the first baseman.  (The run scored as it was a suicide squeeze play.)  It hurt a bit, but more importantly my athletic career at Sky View came to a quick halt.  It is hard to play football with a broken arm and I never did get back into athletics.  I graduated from seminary.  During High School, especially my sophomore year, I was very reserved.  I worked with the sports program in Hyrum.  My favorite friends were Terrill Morgan, Dave Keeley, James Salvesen and Raeburn Ormond.  Weldon went on a mission to England during this time.
During high school I toured Mexico with a group from our Spanish class.  It was really a worthwhile experience.  I spent a week with a family in Guadalajara, and also time touring Mexico City, including Teotihuacan. 
From Sky View I went to Utah State.  I continued with debate fall quarter.  We only had two debate teams, but went to meets in Provo, Salt Lake and Pocatello.  I also sand in the University Chorale, participated in the Saturday’s Warrior chorus and the opera “Amahl and the Night Visitors.”  Winter quarter Weldon was back and we attended together.  I was able to get in one year and a quarter before going on a mission.  I worked at Del Monte to make money for my mission.  During the time between high school and my mission, I spent time putting out a newspaper, Hyrum Crusader.
I served a mission in Buenos Aires, Argentina--Buenos Aires North Mission.  I was in Buenos Aires and the suburbs the entire time of my mission.  Buenos Aires was a spectacular town.  The people there were truly great.  The missionary life was hard at times, but the life for the most part was good.  The emotions I had when I left Argentina were mixed.  I cried as I left friends—tears of sadness—and again when I got home and saw family—tears of joy.
Upon returning home I took up the study of journalism.  This was sparked by my publishing of the monthly (when finals weren’t in the way) newsletter Hyrum Crusader.  I had enjoyed it and hoped to write for a community newspaper.  I did write for the Utah Statesman and a local weekly during this time.  However my second quarter at home things did not go well.  I had done well the first quarter, but then things did not feel right.  My grades weren’t what I wanted and my feelings inside said I had selected a career poorly.  I determined to change majors next fall.
Upon returning to school I enrolled in anthropology courses.  I studied several careers.  I had decided to go into a people profession.  I was interested in anthropology, psychology or social work.  I had visited Machu Picchu in Peru on the way home from my mission and read about the Mexican pyramids.  I had also done really well in the Intro to Psychology class.  I interviewed people from each profession at school.  Social work sounded best and also felt best, so this became my new major.  This made the third time I changed my mind—journalism to anthropology to social work.   As I changed to social work I also had time to major in Spanish.  I also had enough credits to minor in journalism.  During college I ran around with Dave DeBolt, Weldon, Barry Braithwaite and Jody Platt.  I graduated “cum laude” in 1981.  I also graduated from Institute.  During school I worked at the Merrill Library and at the Language Lab. 
As school came to a close, I debated between work and graduate school.  Graduate school won out and I was accepted to the Graduate School of Social Work at the University of Utah.  I first lived with dad in Salt Lake, but later with Cliff Elmore, and still later at the Utah Boys Ranch where I worked for two years.  (My mom and dad separated while I was on my mission, and divorced while I was in Salt Lake going to school.)
My first year at school Weldon and Sue lived in Salt Lake and I spent some time with them.  Weldon did a graduate assistanceship for Coach Jerry Pimm of the basketball program at the University of Utah.  When the assistant coaches resigned, he was the only assistant until they hired somebody else.  I did a field placement at Children’s Service Society as an adoption worker.  Between school work and my field placement I was pretty busy.
My second year I did a field placement in Roosevelt, Utah, working mostly with child welfare.  While there I met a beautiful girl, Sheri Pohlsander.  I had been confused about girls for some time; but Sheri seemed to wipe away my confusions.   We met in April and were engaged in May—just before I ended my placement.  The separation from May to our marriage in August was painful (and expensive).  I had started searching for work—which was hard to find.  I also finished my research project (on the Uintah Basin and Social Issues in a Rural Community) so I was sure to graduate.  I did get a job.  We had two offers in Roosevelt and Duckwater, NV.)  We decided on Duckwater and I started working with the Duckwater Shoshone Indian Tribe a week before our marriage.  Sheri and I were married August 11, 19983 in the Provo Temple.  Sheri is from Bluebell, Utah (20 miles from Roosevelt).  She was the neighbor of my placement supervisor in Roosevelt but I met her at her work.  (She worked at Gales Office Supply, my Bishop’s store.)  I had seen her once before (she turned my eye) but I really met her April 4, 1983.  I was impressed with our first meeting and determined to ask her out.  I asked Monty (my supervisor) about her as I knew she was from Bluebell.  It took me two days to get the courage to ask her out.  First date was a picnic in Altamont.  We went to the musical “Man of La Mancha” in which I had a part.  I was hooked from the start.  It took me a while to convince her.  She solved all my girl problems. 
Sheri is from a large family (13 children).  Her’s is a step family, but mostly her mom’s children by her step father.  Sheri was born a Scoresby (from Iona, Idaho) and adopted a Pohlsander (of German stock).  Her mother’s family is from Washington, close to Othello.  From Sheri’s history I determined we lived within five miles of each other when I was in Idaho Falls.  Life gave us both a few twists before we met.  Sheri lived in Provo (after her parent’s divorce) and then in Wells, NV with her new father.  They then moved to Bluebell about eleven years ago (1972).  Sheri has two full brothers and a full brother who has died, a step brother, a step sister, a half sister, and seven half brothers.  (That’s a lot of boys.) 
Sheri and I have been living in Duckwater for nearly three months.  I enjoy working with the tribe.  It is a small group of Shoshoni Indians.  Sheri has been doing volunteer work at the county school.  She teaches three kindergarten students.  The community is very rural and remote.  We drive 60 miles to church and 73 miles to shop.  The people, however, are very kind and willing to help each other.  I do all types of social work.  Mostly I work with the school.  I have started publishing a newsletter.  It seems I draw on all my talents as the community is small and if I tried to just do counseling all the time I would have little to do.  Sheri and I feel we were inspired to be in Duckwater.  We are good friends of our landlords, Jan and Ed Halstead and their children Emilie and Amie.  We are now becoming a part of the community.
Life has been good to me in my first 26 years and some months.  I have a great family, beautiful wife, chosen profession and am deeply blessed.  My life experiences have been pleasing and now with Sheri should be even more so.  I know the restored gospel is true, and try to do right.  Sheri shares my convictions.

Tonsilitis: Third Grade 1965

recovering

I was in my underwear for more than a week

My only surgery in my life was when my tonsils were removed after third grade, 1965.  I had surgery a few days after Chritmas.  I remember getting a shot, and being told to count backwards.  The next thing I remember was waking in the car as my parents loaded me in.  It must have been same day surgery.  This was at Logan Hospital. I was pretty sick for a few days. 
When school started, I had a sore throat every morning and stayed home a week.  The wore throat would go away by noon, and I was mostly OK the rest of the day.  This was great, because I received a Civil War set for Christmas, and entertained myself just fine.

My Potrait Through the Years

I won a beauty contest as a baby

First Grade

2nd?

??, a crew cut was common

Junior High

High School Graduation

Skinny Dippin' by Charlie Wardle

“Skinny Dippin’” by: Charlie Wardle
One day while we were at Granma Wardle’s in Rigby, Idaho, Dad decided that he would take us boys and some of our cousins to his old swimming hole for a swim.  Since we didn’t have any swimming suits with us, Dad said it would be alright to go skinny dipping.  When Uncle Olsen heard this, (he was very strict with his children) he told his two boys that if they even got a little wet, he’d beat them.
Dad assured Mother and Aunt Verna that his swimming hole was where no one could see us.  It ended up being about twenty yards away from a busy highway.
Dad’s swimming hole was a great big canal with a small ditch that ran along the side of it.  The place where we were swimming had about five great big trees and a rope hanging from one of the trees to swing across.  Dad said there used to be a diving board when he used to swim, but it was gone.
The people that ended up going were Dad, Weldon, bill, Charlie, the two Olsen boys and Danny Green.  The canal we were swimming in was fairly deep, at least over my head, and it was fairly swift.
We would walk up the ditch about thirty or forty yards, then hurry and jump into the canal and float on down the canal. 
We had the Olsen boys at each end of the canal when we were swimming, to watch for cars when we switched from the canal to the ditch; or from the ditch to the canal. 
One time when we were moving from the ditch to the canal, Weldon got up on the bridge that went over the canal, to dive in.  While Weldon was standing on the bridge a car came by.  Weldon didn’t have time to jump in so he just stood there and waved.  The funny thing about it was that the people in the car were Sara and Clyde.  When Sara noticed that the person standing on the side of the road nude was her brother Weldon, her bottom jaw dropped so far that I thought it was going to fall off.
After we got done swimming and put on our clothes, Weldon, Billy and Danny started swinging across the canal on the rope.  The younger Olsen boy [Reed] wanted to try swinging across the canal, but his oldest brother [Ray] told him he better not in case he fell in.  To show his oldest brother that he could do it, he grabbed the rope and started across.  He just barely reached the bank on the other side with his “tippy-toes”.  He was trying to pull himself up with the rope when his grip slipped and in he went.  We all started laughing at him.  When he pulled himself out, his brother was telling him how he had told him that he shouldn’t have swung across the canal on the rope.  He got mad at his brother and pushed him in the canal so they both got wet. 
When we got back to Grandma’s their dad was so mad with them they both had to go sit in their van until their family left Grandma’s.

Malad Baseball Tournament

Malad Baseball Tournament by: Billy Wardle
When we were younger, we like to play baseball, but mostly we coached.  Our baseball escapades gave us the opportunity to go to tournaments in Malad every year.  We also went to other cities, but it seemed Malad was always our favorite.  So much so that the city of Malad always held something magical for me.
    The Malad tournament was held in August every year, usually the second weekend.  It was about an hour drive from Hyrum.  We would go up and camp out.  We stayed in placed like the American Legion Hall, the old hospital, camped downtown; and camped by an old church.
    The town always bustled with excitement.  There was pinball to be played (this was before all the video games came out), a free swim pass to use, a free bowling pass, free movies as well as free prizes from some of the local merchants. 
    Of course there was the baseball too.  Our teams varied in their performance, but we seemed to get better over the years.  It was always more fun to win.  It allowed you to stay more days at the tournament.  It also allowed you to hold your head up high when you ran into kids from any of the other fifteen teams.  It was especially good when you were in a championship game—which happened a few times.

Salute The President: Political Satire

I don't delve into politics much, but since I saw a commercial from local candidate for congress, accusing the Republicans of an attack on the middle class, I had to respond.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioPxwMOM8Qg&feature=plcp

Othello Memories

My Othello Memories
I was born in 1957, and if I’m not mistaken our family left Othello when I was six, First Grade.  Some of my memories get distorted, but I am going to use this sheet to write down things as they come, and maybe add more later.
There was gravel around our house, a driveway that went all the way around, and we had access to main roads both to the East and the West.  We lived South of Radar Road, just after it passed the canal.  It was that canal which brought life to this area; which had been sage brush.  With the completion of Grand Coulee Dam; much of Eastern Washington was open to agriculture. 
Speaking of the canal, I remember one day going over the canal, and looking down into the water and seeing a dead dog floating along.  I think this had been a year of high water.  We were never allowed to get close to this canal because it was big, and had steep banks.  But it was just north of our house and farm, and created a hill which was also an end.
This was a time when I did not like shoes.  I prided myself on being able to run on rocks.  My feet were pretty hard.  However sometimes not hard enough, because in running on the rocks I often stubbed my toe.  By stubbing my toe I mean I would rip the nail off.  Then my Dad would have to doctor me.  He would use fingernail scissors to cut off what might be remaining.  Then there was hydrogen peroxide and all the bubbles.  This was usually followed by a band aid.
I learned that there are worse things to run on than gravel however.  On one occasion we went with my Dad to help with bailing and gathering the hay.  Dad told me to wear shoes, but I didn’t.  I was left in a field of fresh cut hay, needing to get back to the truck.  Fresh cut hay is much crueler to feet than gravel.  It really hurt and I learned my lesson.
My usual chore was to take the scraps out to the cats.  There were always lots of cats, and we fed them by the can we had for trash.  After a meal, all the scraps would be gathered unto a plate, and then I had the task to walk out and deliver them to the cats.  I remembered one time I was just in a mean mood, and put them into the trash barrel.  It made me feel bad what I had done, but now I look back, the cats probably just climbed in and got them anyway.  At the time however, I remember them looking at me with their big eyes.
We would also tease the dog about food.  We would tie a bun to a rope, and then climb up the clothes line poll.  While sitting on the clothes line we would dangle the bun down like a fishing line.  We would then jerk it up when the dog came to grab it.  This was great fun.  The dog would eventually win, as the bun would break and fall off and then they would have their treat.
Playing house was a favorite activity.  The girls had a play house in a grain elevator.  However we would also play in the alfalfa, which field was next to our home.  We would smash the alfalfa down when it was tall, and make rooms and hallways in this fashion.  (If we got too ambitious in our house making my dad would let us know we were smashing too much of the alfalfa down, but he was OK with a little.)  When it was really tall, you could lie down and not be seen. 
One year a corn field was planted in this spot.  It was again great fun to play in the corn.  You couldn’t smash it down, but it was a great place for hiding.  (See ___for a story of the corn field.)
I remember our cow, which for some reason we would always notice she had gotten out as we were on our way to church.  It was a Sunday ritual to get the cow back in.  I have fleeting memories of the church.  I mom would help in primary.  One day someone accidentally stepped on my hand at church.  The chapel was built while we lived there.
There was a park with a pool which was a favorite place.  Our mom would often take us to the pool.  My dad use to play softball.  He could hit the ball a long ways.  He would also play at home by our house, using the hill of the canal bank as a backstop.  There wasn’t a lot of room, but plenty for us children. 
I had a tricycle which I would ride to the bus stop to welcome the kids home from school.  I use to get bored at home as mom would iron and watch her soaps.  I remember Weldon would often get me to let him ride the trice home.
My favorite activity in the summer was to invade the raspberry patch.  My mom would have to keep me away to get enough raspberries for jam.  I would also take a turn at the strawberries, but my favorite was the raspberries.  We always had a large garden.
We made a potato cellar on a property a few miles away.  I remember the scaffolding that we had inside, and the smell.  There is nothing like the smell of a potato cellar. 
We use to irrigate most of the property with row irrigation.  We would get the water out of the ditches and into the rows using siphon tubes.  It was a skill to get the siphon tube to work, and I had my experience with putting the tube in the water, shaking it, and then letting onside only out of the water, and if you did it correctly it would draw water.  My dad was better than me, but I had some success.  (A few years ago while visiting Grandpa Scoresby in Idaho, Grandpa was using siphon tubes and I took a turn.  I still had the knack.)
Social activities were limited as we lived outside of town.  We would go to people’s houses to visit.  I remember we didn’t go to a barber, but to somebody’s house where he had a tall stool chair and he would cut our hair.  We would also go to Francis Yorgansen’s home and my dad and he would play chess.
It was while staying home with my mom that I watched the funeral for President Kennedy.  Our TV was black and white, but I still was enthralled with the horse-drawn carriage that carried the president, and his son saluting.  That was November 1963. 

The Black Boy, My History with Blackface

The Black Boy told by Ileen Wardle

At the farm the kids would often get into things and make a mess of them.  This story is about Weldon.  When he was six he tried to change the color of Billy’s skin who was three at the time.
    This story was told to me by my mother:
    Dad had just finished changing the oil in the tractor, and left the bucket of drained oil in his shop.  Weldon, his friend and Billy were playing around in Dad’s shop, and found the bucket of oil.  Weldon and his friend got a couple of paint brushes, and began to paint Billy with the oil from his head to his feet.  No one knows why Billy just stood there and let them do it.
    When I [mother] saw Billy he looked just like a colored boy; with his black hair and face; he was black everywhere.  I had to throw his clothes away, and use comet on him to get the oil off.

Lost Dianna by: Dianna

Lost Dianna by: Dianna Norman From Childhood Experiences of the Wardle Family, editor Charlie Wardle
When I was five years old my family and my sister’s family went to Soda Springs, Idaho to watch my brother Bill play in a Pony League Tournament.
I was very restless watching the game and so I took my nephew, Buffie, and we went to a little park to swing.  I came back just as the game was over and went to get in the car with my sister and family; but she told me I couldn’t ride back to Hyrum with them and I was to wait for my folks.  I decided I would go back and play on the swings while I was waiting and when I came back I looked everywhere for my folks and couldn’t find them.  I started to cry and some older girls came and asked me what was the matter.  I told them I couldn’t find my mother and dad.  They took hold of my hand and told me not to cry and took me to the police station.  The policeman had me get in the police car with me and we drove around Soda Springs looking for my folks.  I finally recognized someone from Hyrum (The Lundbergs).  They told the policeman they would take me home after we had dinner.  I really was glad to have someone take me home but I felt dumb because I didn’t have any money to pay for my dinner.
When my folks got home they were really surprised because I hadn’t come with my sister and family.  They called to the police in Soda Springs and they told them they had found me and the Lundbergs were bringing me home.  I was so frightened and I never went wondering off again without letting my parents know where I was going.

I am Hewn out of Stone

I read a book about the geology along the Pioneer Trail. "Hard Road West".  "Rock--naked broken, mountainous rock--is the West.  Water is sparse in much of the West.  Soils are thin, plants are few.  Rock rises to view with rare clarity, revealing its intricacy and structure."  (Meldahl, Keith Heyer)

I have had the thought for some time, that I am hewn out of stone.  I have on my desk at work a picture of the Tetons.  It was in my father's trunk, which I inherited when he passed away.  In this picture, the jagged rock of the Grand Teton Peek is intermingled with the snowy glaciers.  The clouds float overhead.  The Tetons were a special place to our family growing up.  We use to go to Jenny's Lake.  My great grandfather was an early settler of the Teton Basin, the back side of the Tetons.  And so to our family, the Tetons were a mystical, magical place.  A place where we were firmly planted.

Growing up in Cache Valley, I could always look to the mountains, the rock cliffs.  We would tell the seasons by the view of the snow on the mountain.  When you could see the woodpecker, left in the pattern of the snow against the mountain face, it meant spring had finally arrived.

Living in the Basin there were rocks.  I use to stop at someone's home in Gusher, and see the mushroom rock.   It was a small version of something you might see in Bryce Canon, in the shape of a mushroom.  It was in a pasture.  I don't know if it still stands,  but I visited it many times on the trip between Roosevelt and Vernal.

Outside Vernal is Dry Fork Canyon, with its sheer cliff wall across from the park where someone painted a flag with the words "Remember the Main".  And close by are houses built, it seemed, into the cliff.  Those are rocks that are firm, immovable. Rocks that created a sense of foundation.

And when you drive in the high Uintahs, above the timberline, all that is left are rocks, sharp, jagged, monolithic rocks--incredible.

In coming to California, the first thing you see are the magnificent granite monoliths.  Rocks and cliffs larger than anywhere else in the world.  Yosemite makes its living on these rocks, and the waterfalls that flow from them.

Still nothing gives me as much joy, as climbing to the top of a boulder, standing on top in a conquering way.  Living in the Bay Area, we can look and see the mountains, and if you drive up to them, you can find large rocks, Goat Rock and Castle Rock.  On a Saturday there are any number of rock climbers on the face of these large rocks.  But they are not planting rocks.  They are rocks you have to look for. They are not rocks you can look towards, and see on a daily basis.  Here from where I work, you can look to the mountains, and see the Lick Observatory and hill; but no, they are not the strong foundational core rock.

Traveling in the train I see Mount Diablo, and the North Peak.    Oak covered peaks, but still I am unable to see the strong rocks and cliffs.

And so I have been looking.  Sometimes I brought rocks home from work when I could.  Some rocks I have hauled from Utah, and put in front of the house.  I miss the rocks we have left at former residences.  They were my friends.  But even so, the small rocks I place around the house are not planting rocks;  rocks where you can plant your soul.  I have rocks displayed in our living room.  But I seek large rocks, that I can climb and conquer.   I would love to have such a rock someplace on our property.

I am hewn from stone, and I am looking for that solid foundation.

Wilhelm

Wilhelm is a name by oldest sister has used for me in a loving fashion.  I like it because it is dignified.  My full name is James William, but I have always gone by Billy.  I don't use James, because my father and older brother both are James W., and that would have been confusing.  My younger brother is Charles James, so he got to use his first name.
Over the course of my life it has been suggested to me that Billy is a diminutive name; but I prefer it all the same.  William is just too refined, and Bill is too short, however I don't mind if people call me Bill.  But I prefer Billy, or if you're my oldest sister you can get away with Wilhelm.

A place for my thoughts, poetry etc.

So another blog as a place for me to write my personal history, thoughts, stories poetry etc. etc. etc. (said like the King in "The King and I.)"  A place where I can talk about me, but mostly a place to write stories about my life (my history) and a place to put my poetry.  9which can be scary because I usually don't share such things.