My last hurrah at Wymount Village. We drove up to Brigham City after he was offered the job and looked at the apartment we would be living in.  Afterwards, as we drove around the town, we looked at each other.  I said, “I just don’t feel good about moving here.”  He responded with, “I don’t either.”  There was nothing outwardly wrong with the job, etc.  It was just a feeling. Monroe Clark, head of the Counseling Center, proposed to Scott that he stay at BYU, and while working in the Testing Department, he could work on getting his masters degree.  That seemed the right thing to do. Our First Car While we were still living in Wymount Village, Scott came home early one evening.  He wanted me to meet a young man.  We walked outside to the road.  He introduced me to a young man who was the brother of one of Scott’s missionary companions.  He was also standing by a black car.  He wanted to sell it.  Scott asked me what I thought of buying the car.  I was thrilled.  My answer was a resounding YES!  We were finally going to be mobile. Scott had me type his master’s thesis, which was a lot of typing, and I was trying to make it perfect.  We both knew that with the quality of the typewriter and my limitations, I couldn’t do it perfectly.  Scott needed to pay someone to do the finished product.  I was very, very relieved.  She took the one I had written and made the final draft of his thesis perfect. Scott had worked hard and was already working in the Testing Department of the Counseling Center.  We were ready to leave Wymount Village and go out into the world.  Well, not that far.  We moved back into my mother’s home where we had started out as a couple.  We were now going back as parents of three children. It is very hard to just leave Wymount and all the experiences that I had there.  These were the days of my first babies and of finding friends with the same goals and of many other ‘firsts’.  I still dream about my children when they were little.  I want to hold them again and maybe do things a little differently.   367 West 1100 North—Again The first memory I have after going back to this home was getting ready for Scott’s graduation.  He was getting his Master of Arts degree.  The date was August 21, 1953. Scott’s mother had come up from Richfield for the occasion.  I remember how crazy it was getting all the kids ready so we could make it on time.  Scott’s mom was so sweet, but so slow!  We said, “Everyone get in the car, it’s time to go!”  She said, “Oh, I just have to comb my hair.”  As she slowly walked toward the bathroom, my mouth dropped open.  Funny the things you remember. The graduation was held at the old Joseph Smith Building.  It was in good shape then.  I sat on the aisle; and as the graduates marched down, I saw some of my friends I had known in high school.  There they were, graduating with their master’s degree, and I was sitting there with three children.  I was not sorry I had my sweet ones; but ever after, I have been conscious of the fact that I didn’t graduate from college. After getting his master’s degree in August of 1953, and before BYU started in the fall and his responsibilities at the Counseling Department began again, Scott had a much needed and greatly appreciated break from the pressure of school and writing his thesis.  He got a job laying a pipeline (not sure what kind) along the mountainside coming down Provo Canyon and continuing south along the ridgeline at least as far as Spanish Fork.  He loved being outdoors, the physicality of the work, and the association with his fellow laborers.  He would come home and share the jokes and the banter with me that he enjoyed so much.  During this time, we relished our freedom.  It feels like we went to drive-in movies every night, taking advantage of the $1 per car admission. We brought our own treats from home: homemade popcorn and peach jars containing ice water.  This is a tradition that continued every summer throughout our first eight children’s childhood.  However, in our more ‘affluent’ years, we picked up Necco candies along the way, and each child was given a third of a roll to enjoy during the two drive-in movies.    Once again, the layout of the house was terrible.  Walking into the living room, you were faced with two doors—one leading straight into the kitchen, and the other into the bathroom.  Ugh.  Scott knew how to solve the problem; he closed off the door leading into the kitchen, making a little cubbyhole between the living room and the kitchen where the door had been.  The cubbyhole was used to set the phone on.  The bathroom door was closed off, and another door was opened around the corner of the hall and opened into the utility room.  Scott didn’t like where the other door was located, so he closed that one off and put in another door that balanced the living room.  That door looked into the hall where you could walk to the left into the kitchen or walk to the right and around the corner to the bathroom door, which now entered from the utility room.  There was also a back door that led out of the utility room into the yard. I was much happier after the adjustments were made with the doors. Through out our life, there were many, many occasions when I would want a change in our home or yard. I would tell Scott my desires and he would respond, “It can’t be done.”  Then after a night of thinking about it, he would get up the next morning asking for a paper and pencil. I would race to find one as a thrill went through my body, knowing he had worked it out and it actually could be done. And then he’d do it. We had three little children in a two-bedroom house.  There were bunk beds in the smallest bedroom, and we purchased a used youth bed that fit snugly across from the bunks.  We managed and didn’t feel too put out. I was pregnant again! I remember Mother saying, “Are you sure you are happy about this?”  I was so excited! We lived in the home for about one year. Scott was getting $3,100 a year at BYU.  We owed Dr. Thomas for two tonsillectomies and a baby.  Dr. Thomas had taken Scott aside and told him not to worry about any billing that might come from his office; Scott was to take his time in paying.  We were so grateful to him but we needed to get our bills paid.