When I read this little history, it took me right back.  I don’t remember what a ‘rat’ was for the hair.  I do remember we had the barber cut our hair about shoulder length.   We, the gang, would put our hair up in pin curls at night.  Sleeping wasn’t always great.  We felt we should ‘modernize’ a little Greek girl.  She had beautiful, long black hair.  We pooled our money together and talked her into going to the barber.  We went with her.  It was so hard for her to see all that beautiful hair fall as the barber cut.  She told us when she went home that night her parents were furious with her.  She did look cute with her hair cut short.  We taught her how to pincurl it.  We sure had our nerve!  I remember us encouraging a girl to stand up straight and be proud of her height.  She had grown fast in middle school and was beginning to slump to keep from looking so tall.  I believe we were generally kind to other girls around us. I remember one night when we slept over at someone’s home we decided to cut our bangs short and bleach them blond.  We were all for the ‘shock value.’  These memories help me to be more patient with young, foolish kids. It was about then I started to do my mother’s hair.  She looked much younger when I styled it.  We also wore ‘Snoods.’  We would tuck the back of our hair in the Snood, leaving the front part for curls and bangs.  We learned all this from the movies. I would study the stars’ makeup.  I didn’t wear much makeup.  When I had an allergy outbreak, my cheeks would be red, and I would have to tone them down with a little powder.  When I didn’t have outbreaks, I would look so pale everyone would ask if I didn’t feel good, so I would have to add a little rouge.  I remember I didn’t like to go to Mutual because there were only two girls in my class, and they never spoke to me.  The boys in my neighborhood, Bobby Mower and Kent Christensen, would come to my house and make me go with them.  I’m sure that didn’t go over well with the two girls.  They didn’t realize these good- looking, older boys considered me like a little sister.  When Kent would take me home, he would look in my face and say, ”You aren’t wearing make up are?  Don’t you dare!”  They were one and two years older than me and wanted to keep me pure.  I don’t think I appreciated their concern. I can see that I was a normal, immature girl.  I remember the drama and the crushes we had.  June Cloward and I would stand on the corner of Center and 7^th East talking after school for hours.  Time was never an issue until we broke up.  Then she would run south to her home, and I would run north to my home, and knew I was going to get a lecture for not coming right home after school.  It seemed we never learned!  One night, I walked into the house expecting a lecture.  The family was all in the kitchen and didn’t even notice me!  I couldn’t believe my good luck!  That stands out because of all the times I did get that lecture. Still remembering the young girl that I was, I can see myself standing at the kitchen sink, looking out of the window, through the neighbors’ yard and beyond to the sidewalk.  I was watching some girls who were older than myself, standing and talking.  I watched them for a while, and then I realized they weren’t laughing.  I thought to myself, “I hope I never get so old I don’t laugh.”  And then comes to my memory myself standing on that same sidewalk with a friend at my side and two girls we were facing.  The one girl must have said something to me that raised my ire.  I slapped her face.  She slapped mine right back.  I was so surprised!  After that incident, I made a vow to myself never to let my temper get the best of me.  I believe I was still somewhat passionate about certain things after that, but a little more cautious. Summer We and the neighborhood kids would pick fruit for the local fruit farmers in the area, mostly in Orem, before the fruit trees and bushes were removed to make room for new housing developments.  At one time, Utah County, which includes Provo, was called the "Garden County."  We would gather on a certain corner to be picked up and transported to the orchards or the berry patches.  I remember gathering apples and cherries; but once when I went to a peach orchard, my allergies became so bad that I couldn't see.  Obviously, I couldn't pick peaches.  One of my experiences in picking fruit was in a raspberry patch.  You had to wear long sleeves or you would get scratches on your arms as you walked down the rows.  I hated that.  I also hated the water you had to drink that came from a water pipe in the field.  It had such a metal flavor I couldn't drink it.  We didn't have bottled water at that time.  We would work hard all day; and when we were brought back into town, money in our pockets, we would walk all the way to the park, which was just off Fifth West, and go swimming.  That felt wonderful!  But we had spent all our money at the pool and still had to walk back home in the heat of the summer.  Oh well, we were young. In the summer between 7^th and 8^th grades, we went up to Brockbank’s cabin at Wildwood.  We would stay about a week.  We hiked and played in the river.  That summer, while playing in the river, June got hung up in an eddy and couldn’t get out.  She had a bad heart.  Everyone was panicking while trying to get to her.  In the meantime, I was having the same experience, only down river.  The third time I went down I thought, “I am going to drown.”  At that very moment someone noticed me.  I was saved!!  That was the most frightening experience of my life! We were taken back to the cabin while someone got hold of a doctor who was staying in Wildwood.  I was put on a couch with no blankets under me but many put on top.  I was shaking violently.  I’m sure I was in shock.  I couldn’t even talk.  I learned from that experience, you always put blankets under a person as well as over.  June was unable to do any ironing or vacuuming after that because of her   heart.  I’m sure she didn’t miss those activities.  We were all suddenly homesick and parents were called.  We left beautiful Wildwood. On Saturdays we would ride our bikes all over the county.  We would go down to the lake and out to Orem, which mostly consisted of orchards and a few houses at that time.  One Saturday, when riding up the hill from the lake, I got a flat in my tire.  We usually carried a patch to put on a tire when it got a leak.  I wasn’t prepared and had to push my bike up the hill and through downtown Provo.  It had started to rain.  In those days, when you ‘went downtown,’ you dressed up.  Women wore gloves and sometimes hats.  That day we looked like drowned rats and were so embarrassed to have to walk through downtown to get home.  I’m sure this generation can’t imagine that. One adventurous night, the boys in the neighborhood decided to go up on BYU campus.  The road on the south side of the campus was open then.  It was rather steep.  I remember I was riding with Bobby on the bar of his bike, and we went down that hill fast!!  I was so scared, but it was so exhilarating. We were active girls having typical adventures for that day.  We would turn cartwheels on the lawns that went down the middle of Center Street, dividing the two lanes.  That divider went all the way from First East clear up to the State Hospital.  Uncle Mark was so happy when they took out that beautiful lawn and made it into four lanes.  He was the driver in the family.  We had felt it represented a rather small college town, and I always thought it was beautiful.  When Mother worked at the State Hospital and I would visit her place of work, I would look out of the big, second story windows that faced west down Center Street and admire that beautiful street. Back to School One day, one of my friends and I decided to play hooky from afternoon school.  We climbed up in our loft in the clubhouse.  We could see the school’s field through a little window.  We laid there the whole afternoon and watched different classes go onto the field for their gym periods.  It was so boring!!  That was the first and last time I played hooky! During the last part of our eighth grade, we prepared for the ninth grade by voting in the new mayor and commissioners.   Someone must have talked me into running for a commissioner.  Several in our gang also ran.  I was not really confident that I would make it, so the last dance of the year, when the winners were to be announced, was the most exciting dance I had ever been to.  When the winners were announced and I had won Girl’s Commissioner, I was in a daze!  We all had to walk up onto the stage and say something.  I’m sure those who know me now know that little speech wasn’t very clear.  I’m not sure what I said, but I think I used bad grammar, and I couldn’t get off that stage fast enough.  So much for glory!   The “boys” at Farrer Junior High.  Only two boys I can remember were Jack Kelley, second from left, and LaMar Brown, kneeling in front. My Mother. Jackie, Bobby and me.  I’m standing on the right. Back of picture with the names of the eight grade graduates.