Winter pictures of Auntie West’s home when we were adults Auntie West was always so good to us.  One day she gave a beautiful, light, purple hanky to Jean and told her, “This hanky is for show, not for blow.”  If she gave me one, I don’t remember. The shady, east side of the property, crossing a ditch on the back of a little humped bridge, was a wonderful, big swing.  Two or four people could sit in it, facing each other; and pushing with your feet on the floor of the swing, you could fly back and forth, back and forth.  I loved this swing so much I told my Uncle Mark about it, and when I had children, he made us a smaller version of that beautiful swing, which my children loved. We loved roller-skating on Auntie West’s sidewalks.  Putting our skates onto our shoes and turning the key to tighten them was exciting.  We had all of this wonderful, crackless cement to fly back and forth on.  When roller-skating on these wide, beautiful sidewalks, it was always a dream.  I do hope Auntie West knows what a special gift she gave to two children.  We were able to leave the rocky sidewalks and dirt streets for a short while to visit heaven! At night, as we would walk home from a movie, the sidewalk in front of Auntie West’s was very dark.  Big trees lined the outside of the sidewalk.  We would walk as fast as we dared, knowing that all along that sidewalk were toads—big toads, little toads—that came out at night.  They were all very squishy if we stepped on one, and we usually did.   Two blocks south of our home (it seemed much farther as a child) was “the lane.”  Mother would let us go down the lane if we promised we would not get into the canal at the bottom of the lane.  Of course, Jean would get in, along with other kids.  I kind of slid down once on the mud, towards the water in the canal, and panicked.  I scrambled up as fast as I could crawl.  I was afraid of the water but I loved the lane.  Mother would make homemade chili sauce sandwiches, wrapped (amazingly fast) in waxed paper when we would go to the lane.  We would also get a jam sandwich in our little sacks.  Off we would go.  As soon as we turned into the lane (heading north), we would come to several big trees with their branches spreading out, welcoming and encouraging us to climb them.  We were in no hurry and could spend hours climbing and playing the afternoon away. Beyond the lane, the dirt road leads around the hill and turns north to the cemetery.  (Continuing on that road would take you to Dad’s farm and the farm where my Anderson grandparents first lived.)  Mother was a Cub Scout leader in primary at one time.  To help the young scouts earn badges, one of the projects she did was to walk them (and me) to the top of the cemetery, where there was open land, and teach them how to make a fire.  After the fire was made, we all roasted wieners.  I was really happy to be there with all those boys and my mother.  I was so happy, I kept eating hot dogs until I was sick.  I couldn’t eat hot dogs for years after that. The hills east of town bring back memories of Easter and boiled, colored eggs.  After we climbed the hill and had eaten our lunch and all the eggs we wanted, we would roll (sort of throw) the leftover eggs down the hill, watching them bounce over rocks and finally splatter.  A waste, but great fun!  I was always a little cautious when climbing the hill because I knew there could be rattlesnakes under any rock.  They were quite prevalent there. The hills of home on the road to the cemetery Old Salina Cemetery I woke up this morning, remembering a very special day I had with my dad. I was always curious as to what was on the other side of our hills.  I was sure there were much bigger hills behind them, but it was just a hope of mine.  One summer day, early morning and still dark, my dad woke me up.   We were going east up the mountain, where I had never been.  We got into a truck with other men.  I was sleepy and slept until my dad said, “We’re here, wake up!”  We got out of the truck and walked over to, what seemed to me, a big cabin.  We walked in.  There were other men around and a big table where breakfast was being served.  Daddy fixed me a plate of food: eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes (I had never had fried potatoes and I loved them), all smelling wonderful.  I was hungry, excited and nervous.  I stayed close to Daddy.  After breakfast I followed Daddy outside.  The night was gone, and into my vision appeared big corrals with animals in them and a man standing on a high, wooden platform near the corrals.  He was auctioning off horses, cows and sheep.  I was spellbound when I heard the auctioneer.  I had never heard anything like it!  Daddy told me I could walk around while he talked with other men.  He was probably buying animals.  I loved the feel and smell of the fresh, mountain air.  I was in love with the mountains and wished I had stayed awake as we were traveling to see just where we were.  It was such a special day in my life, almost like a dream, and to this day, I still don’t know where we were! There was another lane in Salina.  I discovered it when one of my friends asked me if I would come to her house after school to play. This girl was beautiful and blond and I loved her name, Marie.  Maybe she had lovely things to play with at her home.  How could I resist?  The lane to her house was south and west of downtown.  We played as we walked along, and when we came to her lane, I remember high trees lining the dirt road.  I don’t remember other houses along the way.  When we got to her home, which was located back off the road, it seemed the path to the house was on an incline.  As we started to walk up to her house, she called to her mom.  There was no answer.  Instead, her brothers appeared and started pushing her around and making her cry.  I was so frightened.  I had a sometimes scary, older sister, but I had never been where there were older brothers who were mean.  I told Marie I had to go.  I ran all the way back, through the lane, through the downtown and to the safety of my own home.  I have tried to find that lane since then, but it appears there are now houses and streets that have filled in that area.  No big trees are left for me to help me find my way.  I did have an opportunity to visit with my friend, Marie, at our 40th school reunion.  She is still beautiful. Jean, two friends, me and LaVern Miller, Aunt Josephina’s daughter.  Taken in  Murray, Utah Aunt Josephine lived at 381 East, 4800 South in Murray, Utah.   Dad, Mother, Jean and I would ride the bus to Murray to visit Aunt Josephine, Uncle Will and their children, Merle and her sister LaVern, who had had brain damage at birth.  Her mental capabilities were around six or seven years old.  Although LaVern was about seven years older than I was, she was just perfect for me as a playmate.  We would play out in the barnyard, especially in the barn, where we would find little baby mice.  Oh, how helpless they seemed.  Motherly instincts were aroused as we made little beds for them.  Tucking them in, we put them on the back porch, where they would be safe from prowling cats.  The next morning, we scurried to the porch to play with our little ones.  Much to our horror, they were all dead! Aunt Josephina’s house in Murray, Utah Jean reminded me that there was a milk house located behind the main house.  Uncle Will had a large barnyard with milk cows.  I’m sure that was where they stored their milk.  Hard to believe this was located in Murray. Aunt Josephine’s home was large and elegant in my eyes.  There was a big dining table, a china closet and other lovely furniture in the living room, but the desk was what really interested me; on it sat a typewriter.  I had never seen a typewriter before, except in the Montgomery Ward Catalog.  I was easily tempted, and I pushed some of the keys.  Of course they hung up, and I thought I had broken it!  I have a vague memory of someone, probably Merle, noticing me and laughing.  She told me it wasn’t broken and showed me how to work it.  I had fallen in love with a machine! Merle Miller Thueson, Aunt Josephina’s daughter One evening, we were all sitting around that beautiful dining room table, having a wonderful meal.  Aunt Josephine was a very good cook.  The phone rang.  Merle excused herself to answer it.  She came back to the table and said she had a date!  I was shocked!  I thought that it was really embarrassing to state that she had a date, and so casually, at the table!  I sat there not knowing if I should leave the table or not.  My face felt like it was burning, I was so embarrassed.  I observed the others at the table; they all seemed very calm.  Was something wrong with me? In my memory, Aunt Josephine’s house had a wide porch that ran around two sides of the house.  LaVern and I would play games and run around that wide porch.  We would entertain ourselves for hours. The bus ride from Aunt Josephine’s home in Murray to Salina took us at least three hours.  As we neared our little town, I could smell that wonderful smell of home.  It really didn’t connect with me for years that it was the smell of corrals, cows and horses.  I love that smell even today. A side note:  I would like to mention here how I felt about the way women dressed in Salina when they were home.  Long beige, cotton stockings were worn.  Sometimes the stockings were gathered under the knee and made into a knot so they didn’t have to be pulled all the way up and fastened on with garters.  Most women wore aprons all day.  Their hair was rather plain, pulled back or with a semblance of curls.  I thought they all looked drab and tired.  I vowed I would never look like that when I grew up!  After I was married, I made sure I got up in time to get dressed and put on my face before 9:00 every morning!  If I worked hard in the yard and came in looking terrible, I could easily just get into my indoor-plumbing shower and quickly clean up.  I have so many conveniences that the women of my mother’s day didn’t have: automatic washing machines, bathrooms, electric clothes irons, dryers and better material for clothes.  I can wear pants when working.  Many, many more improvements have been made, and I am so grateful for them!  Truly, I am grateful I was born during the time that I was. This concludes my memories of our town, Salina, and my few family trips.  As I got older, I felt that I was a very lucky little girl to have been raised in a small town, had the wonderful parents I had and memories to share with my sister, Jean.  I enjoyed the freedom to play, laugh, cry and grow up a bit.