Connie Driving the Truck

This is taken from a series of stories Charlie put together

Connie Driving the Truck

This story happened when Connie was ten and Weldon about seven years old.

Connie was always a very daring type of person who thought that she could do most anything.  I guess that is probably why she felt  that since she could drive a tractor she should be able to drive a truck.

This story is written by Connie herself.

As I grew up being a farmer’s daughter, I naturally knew how to drive a tractor at a very young age.  I was always intrigued with the cars and trucks on the farm, and I couldn’t understand why my dad limited my driving to the tractors only.

One day I and my brother for one reason or another were the only ones home.  I asked my brother Weldon, “How would you like a ride around the house in the old red pick-up?”  He questioned my ability to drive, and I assured him there was no worry.  So we both hopped in.  I started it up and off we went.  We missed the house by two feet, and a tree by two inches; and I never understood why the truck wouldn’t turn onto the road I wanted it to, and we ended up stuck in a pile of dirt.  Worse of all I couldn’t get the truck started again to put it back where I found it so my dad wouldn’t now about any troubles.  As I remember, he wasn’t too mad.  He just reminded me that he had told me there is a difference between driving a tractor and a truck.

My addition:  I remember being home, but not being in the truck at the time.  I think Sara was home and she and Connie were babysitting us.  Our farm house was situated with a gravel and dirt road all the way around it.  To the North there was a patch of grass between the house and the road, and beyond that a canal with a patch of sandy soil before the bank of the canal.  It was into this no-man's land that Connie landed the truck.  That old red pick-up was always hard to start, and always made a terrific noise when being started.  It sounded like nothing else I have ever heard.  The closest is perhaps when the belt goes out of a dryer.  I just remember hearing that noise and thinking, as she tried to restart the pick-up, "Oh, Oh, Connie is going to be in so much trouble."

Tinnitus (health)

I have been living with tinnitus for the past six or seven years now.  I first developed it when I had bad allergies, and a stuffed eustachian tube putting pressure on my ear.  I hate that, and was steaming my ear frequently, trying to get it to go away.  This was the same year mom came to California after breaking her neck.  Anyway the tinnitus started about the same time the stuffed ears went away.  I concluded it must have been related.  However the ear doctor did not agree, and says it was the consequence of loud noises, Del Monte when I was young, and loud music when I was older. 

When it first developed it drove me crazy.  It triggered great anxiety.  I received a blessing from Brother Rod Tueller.  The tinnitus didn't go away after, but my ability to live with it has increased.  I hardly notice it any more, except when I get too tired, or when it changes tones which happens every once in a while.  If I listen for it, it is there.  But if I am busy doing something, I don't even realize it is there.  It still bothers me I really don't have silence any more.  However if I don't think about it, I'm OK.

The only worry is the doctor says it may portend hearing loss, which may be progressive.  I hope not, but Sheri worries my hearing is getting worse. I have a hard time hearing something from the other room, but if people get my attention I hear fine.  I also hear fine on the phone.  So I'm good for a few more years yet.

My History in Theater: Star of Justice

I was in the very first two years of the Outlaw Trail Festival.  Both years we portrayed "Star of Justice" with a few changes.  The first year I sang the cows and sheep song, but the second year this was a women's song, and I sang the hat song.  The first year I was a "good guy" and the second year I portrayed two parts, an outlaw, Bob Meeks, and a towns person.  These pictures are from the Vernal Express the second year.

That is me behind the fire with a mustache

Jake (Phil Walton) and Sadie's (Karen Bullock's) hands

Sheriff Pope and Kate (Dennis Hatch and Marci Dyck)

 My recording of their song, at least as I remember it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyzSzZ78Duo

That's me again on the right of the square as we sing "Star of Justice"

Chris Mikesell as Butch Cassidy

 The second year I was in charge of the fires.  I had to light the campfire.  It had chemicals to become a big fire quickly.  We also had a blanket in a bucket of water for the end of the scene and to douse the fire.  I Was also in charge of lighting the torches for the mob, lynching scene.
The show was directed by Nels Carlson.  http://whilhelmsthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/05/nels-carlson.html It was written by Sheila Wheeler and music by Wayne and Julie Millet.  The executive director was Alta Winward

 I had a couple of important parts.  As I town person I had a fight with Doug Griffin, blaming him for taking my hat.  Right after the fight I sang the song, "A Man Without a Hat."  I use to be so winded from the fight, the singing would give me a head ache.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvnTB7zCfnQ (A Man Without a Hat)
My other important part was holding the horses for the bank robbery, and singing "Brother's Keeper" around the camp fire as we schemed.

It was a fun outdoor production.  We had guns, and learned the hard way, blanks are not totally safe.  We had horses and wagons.  I was never one for riding horses, but I did for the theater.  I rode quite a bit getting use to the horse.  Chris Piner, who played Sundance, talked about making the horses go fast with a good kick with the spurs.  It was a scene where he and Butch robbed the Montpelier Bank.  I held the horses for them while they went in. They come out for our get-away.  I used the spurs.  I did this only once, because I almost fell off the horse.  My horse would follow theirs going fast anyway.

Me, I Like Rocks

Me, I like rocks.

That's what I was thinking as I looked at a picture of my son from his trip to Japan.  He was standing with another person from his high school and two girls from Japan.  They were all laughing and smiling.  Mark-he is a people person.

He said as much when a friend asked him what was his favorite part of his trip to Japan.  He replied the day they visited local high schools and spent the day with other students. (You see he went on a trip with his high school to sing at the World's fair in sort of an exchange program with Cupertino's sister city, Toyokawa.)  When he said that it was when I realized he enjoyed being with people-more than performing, more than seeing temples and caves, and more than sites.  Mark is a people person.

Me, I like rocks.

I have always liked looking at rocks; to climb to the top of a good-sized boulder and to conquer it.  Or to look at a cliff side and see what God has made.  I always liked living in Utah because of the rocks.  But life took me to California where there are less rocks, and I don't get to see them as often.

But we're different, my son and I.  I wonder if my other children are like Mark, or like me.  Natalia (my oldest daughter, Mark is my second) she likes books, and kids.  I guess I need to ask her which she likes more.  She is going to school studying to be and Elementary School teacher.  Maybe her love of kids wins out.

Jeremy, my son after Mark, I would always have said he likes sports.  Now though, he is in sort of a blaugh stage and I'm not sure if that's true anymore.  I could say he likes girls.  His life seems to revolve around them.  He is happiest when he has a girlfriend, and miserable when a relationship breaks up.  We have gone through some rough times with him over relationships ending.  But then this last relationship wasn't so bad.  He is 16 now and maybe he is maturing.

Charity, is my 14-year-old daughter.  She likes singing, and dancing, and acting and performing.  She loves those things and yet she gets stage fright from time to time.  I remember when she tried out for a play.  She practiced and practiced her song-but when she auditioned she couldn't remember a things.  Her brain just went blank.  I was the hardest thing to watch.  We had forgotten to take the music and she was going to sing to a tape.  The director asked her to sing "Happy Birthday" and she couldn't even remember that.  That was not her best moment.

But since then she has had many chances to perform and is more comfortable with things now.

Miranda my 12-year-old daughter likes to dance.  She also likes dolls, but I think she is starting to grow out of that stage.  She use to spend hours and hours playing dolls.  She also had way too many.  Of course they would make a big mess with them.  One thing Miranda doesn't like is picking up.  There were often dolls left out her and there and nobody liked to share a room with her as a result.  I guess it's easier to play dolls from where you left off the day before, rather than having to start over from the start every time.

Caleb, he's my youngest and he is 10. I think he just loves life.  He seems to be able to have a good time any old place.   But he likes to be busy doing something.  He plays hard.  He does sports hard.  And then he remembers hard.  He is always talking about his run in flag football where he ran the entire length of the field for a touchdown after almost being trapped in the end zone for a safety.  I was coaching and had a close look at the play as he sprinted around the left end and just barely missed having his flag pulled.  He had to loop back into the end zone to get around one defender.  After he got around the end he was off, cutting back and forth down the field giving everyone on the other team a couple chances to grab his flag, but he was always a step ahead of them.  He finally broke into the clear and sprinted the last half of the field to the touchdown.  That was a fun play.

My wife, Sheri, likes to read.  She likes a clean house.  She likes a made bed.  She likes friendships.  She likes walks.  She likes pretty things to put around the house and make it looked somewhat organized.  But to be honest, I really don't know what really causes my wife to burn inside.  I guess she loves the kids.  She at least spends all her time with them-camping, Great Americaning, watching movies, cleaning etc.

But me, I like rocks.  Well maybe I like more than rocks.  I like my family, that's for sure.  I guess if I had to pick between my family and rocks, I would take my family.  I really can live without rocks.

My poetry: Squirrels

 I wrote this poem after Caleb told me a story

                       Squirrels

                               By: Billy Wardle

           

Two squirrels, one chasing the other,

Ran across the electrical line, over the road

As I drove underneath.

I've never seen that before, I thought,

But a couple blocks later,

I saw another squirrel, running along

An electrical line, crossing the road.

We must be having a squirrel infestation.

The population is really out of control.

Caleb, my son, came home with a story.

He was driving his bike home from soccer practice,

And saw a car run over a squirrel,

Not the entire squirrel, just its head.

He said the squirrel squirmed for some time,

Even though it was already dead.

He was traumatized, not because a squirrel was killed,

But because he saw it happen, and saw the struggle of the squirrel

Through its last breaths.

When we drive past that same location now,

He looks for the squirrel,

It's still there, but now the whole body is squished,

Not just the head...

There is a lot of traffic.

By: Niel Frank

My Poetry: Melancholy poems

I don't remember when I wrote this, but it must have been some time ago

 

When is Love

 

When do you love me?

How do you love me?

With what do you love me?

Where do you love me?

Why do you love me?

I feel alone,

Like a stork standing on a pier pole,

One leg in the air, the other on the pole.

The storm hits, and there I stand,

Alone,

As the waves roar and lap against the pole.


What is Inside?

What is inside?

Is it just blood, and guts and goo?

Am I but gristle and sinew?

What's inside?

 

What is inside?

Is there besides tissues and bone?

Is there more than emptiness and stone?

What's inside?

What's inside my head?

Cranium, and folds of brain,

Rocklike skull, blood in veins?

What's inside my head?

At times I feel like I'm hollow,

Like there should be no tomorrow.

At times I feel empty,

Like there should be more to me.

Am I different than others?

Or are we sisters and brothers?

They too feel pain and loss?

That life is a double cross?

Damn I'm glad those times don't last long

Summer Science Camp: 1971

I'm pretty sure it was between my 8th and 9th grade years that my dad signed me up for Summer science camp.  A couple teachers from South Cache directed it.  One of them was Ed Jensen, who taught math.  It was a field program, where they took us to different locations in the environment every week.  One of the first trips we went up Wellsville Mountains, following a t.v. transmitter route.  We got on the hillside and looked at the plant life.  We saw a sego lilly, which had been important to the early pioneers for food and is now the state flower of Utah.  We went that way again, following the highway through Sardine Pass, and stopping almost opposite where Sherwood Hills is located, and climbed on a hill know as Coral Mountain.  We looked all over the mountain for fossils of horned coral.  I actually found one and brought it home with me. 

We made a trip up to Porcupine Dam.  I remember this trip as Dave Jensen, who was a Pony Baseball pitcher, threw a rock off the dam underhand, a lot farther then I could ever think of throwing. 
The biggest trip of the summer was to Minnetonka Cave over by Bear Lake.  That trip was an all day one and we had to take a sack lunch.  Minnetonka cave is very cool, even in the summer and it has lots of stairs and is a pretty good climb.  It is also very pretty inside the cave. 

Another trip was to Tony Grove, and this trip marks the time when I was lost in the wilderness.  We hiked from the parking lot to a lake a bit more than a mile away.  We used the buddy system.  I can't remember who was my buddy.  Going to was pretty well marked.  It was coming back that we had a problem.  Somehow we missed a turn,  My buddy and I continued following a creek when we should have crossed.  We continued walking to the East for some distance before we realized we had gone he wrong way.  By then every one else had passed, and we couldn't find the trail.  We continued following the way we were going, knowing we would come out eventually.  We had to wade through a couple of creeks.  We did cut across so we didn't have to walk all the way to the highway, but found the road going into Tony Grove.  This saved us time, because going cross country is slow going.  We weren't on the road long, when the bus pulled up, as they had been looking for us.  I guess we were pretty lucky, because people have gotten lost in the same area for days.