Margie Ward Shirley - Autobiography

Parents, Siblings and Home. I was born to Eberhardt Welton Ward and Wilhemina Catherine Smith, on September 14, 1921. This was a second marriage for my mother. She had one daughter by her first marriage. It was the first marriage for my father. My older sister's name was Rayola.

Dad had gone on a mission to Denver, Colorado earlier and mother had Rayola, then she and her first husband divorced. She met Dad through her sister, Aunt Mable, who was teaching school, who was living in Riverside.

Dad was born on a Washakie Indian Reservation. My Grandfather was in charge of Indian affairs and was also a Bishop on the reservation. That is where my dad spent his childhood. They moved from there to the little town of Riverside, Utah.

Siblings. Rayola was my oldest sister. I had two brothers and one sister older than I. Verl and the one sister, Mary, had died when they were very small. Verl died from diphtheria and because the disease was so contagious that they could not have a funeral for him, so they had to put him in a little casket and just go bury him. Mary was only nine months old when she died of whooping cough. Mother didn't talk much about Mary. I had two brothers younger, Smith and Paul. Welton was the oldest boy with Rayola as a half-sister. (Scott's Notes: Mom said that people often told her mother that Margie was a replacement for Mary. Her mother would say, "No, she is not." The effect of being abandoned by a husband, losing little Mary, and not even having a chance to have a funeral for Verl must have been devastating. Mom said that Grandma would often walk down the road and out to the cemetery alone.)

Home. Life in the house during the depression days, food and work were scarce, but mother was resourceful. She would do sewing for other people. We had a cow and used to make butter and sell it wherever we could get any income is where we got it. We never went hungry, but we had some skinny meals. I always thought it would be great to have a tuna fish sandwich to take with me to school but mostly I had jelly sandwiches or else a hard fried egg sandwich wrapped in newspaper. We didn't have waxed paper. I would open my little lunch wrapped in newspaper and there was some of the print on my sandwich. So I digested the news.

My mom would pull me aside whenever we had chicken or whatever we had and would say, "now you just take one piece and leave the rest for the little boys." They were always called the "little boys." They came first. She would always tell me to be the peacemaker and not make a fuss. "Take one and leave the rest for the little boys," but she did the best she could. She had a hard row to hoe.

We had no indoor plumbing. My dad had a tobacco problem and he would go out and sit in the outside john and smoke, but he would never smoke in front of us kids. You could smell the fumes coming out of the john. We bathed in one of the old round tin tubs on Saturday night. Water was heated and because I was a girl I got to bathe first before the dirty boys. We had to get chairs and blankets over them to have any privacy. We bathed once a week, and we needed it, believe me.

Parent's Occupations. Dad was a plain laborer. He had no education to have a career. We had a neighbor who was in charge of the road crew in Box Elder County, and whenever he could he would give Dad a job as a day-laborer.

Mother was a beautiful seamstress. She could make something out of practically nothing, because of necessity. That was how she made her living after divorcing her first husband until she was married to Dad.

Parent's Marriage. When Mother was first married, both of them were very young. He went to California and was going to send for her, but never got around to it. He got work, but forgot to send for her. His name was Hokanson.

Dad was a great scriptorian. He served as ward clerk for many years and was a great penman. He also had a good singing voice. For a time Mother was ward organist and Dad led the singing for a few years. They put him in the bishopric for a short period but the tobacco thing got him released from that before very long.

Family Ties. I was not very close to any of my brothers and sisters. I think it was because they were boys and didn't give a hoot about me, I don't know. I was never close to any of them in the way that I would confide in them, or be buddies or anything like that. I was kind of a loner.

School Life. I started school in Riverside, a little two-room schoolhouse with all eight grades in it. One of my earliest teachers was Edith Olson. She was a really good teacher. Then they consolidated our school with the Garland School where I attended from the fifth to eighth grades. Then I attended Bear River High, where I graduated in 1939.

Reading and English were my favorite subjects, along with some math. I don't know if I was good at those subjects, it was just that I liked them. I hated history and I hated geography.

We lived on a corner, and across the street from us lived my cousin Amanda Ward. Across the street from her lived another friend, Nola Jensen. We were all the same age and in the same class. They were the ones I mostly palled around with. At times, Nola would cozy up to Nola and tend to leave me out. Sometimes I tagged along with them, and sometimes they would sneak around without me.

Time for Play. In the winter we used to walk about a mile east of our house down to the river bottoms and ice skate on what was called Fanny's Pond. We also used to go for hikes up on the foothills about another mile or mile and a half west of our place. We would hike up to the maple trees where the freeway is now.

Working. In high school, in the summers, I did housework for a lady. I worked from Mondays through Saturdays, from 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., and made $3.50 a week.

Dating. One of my biggest concerns was having a date to go to the school functions. I was not really very popular, so I was concerned about it. Most of the time I didn't like who asked me out. I was too fussy. I used to hear that I was too "picky."

Hobbies. I liked to read a lot. I was also in 4-H clubs learning about cooking. I used to participate in a lot of plays in Mutual and was in three or four of them.

Courtship and Marriage. I was working at Utah General Depot during WWII and I lived in an apartment right next door. I was doing bookkeeping-type work and payrolls. Ross' sister, Sarah, lived in an apartment next door to my apartment, and she also worked in the same office where I worked. Ross came home on furlough before being shipped out. Sarah arranged a blind date. That's how we first met.

We had two or three dates, maybe two or three and then he was shipped overseas. We wrote back and forth while he was overseas. Seriously, I didn't think much would come of it. When he came back we got together.

Knowing your dad, there wasn't a whole lot of romance involved in asking me to marry him. While he was overseas, he went to Japan and brought back some Japanese silk and gave it to me, and Mother made my wedding dress. I was quite surprised when he popped the question. My mother was quite happy. She thought I was going to be an old maid because I was about 25 years old. On the other hand, I was not worried about being an old maid. I didn't give a hoot.

We didn't have a reception. We left right after the ceremony and went to Salt Lake the first night, then on down to San Francisco where Sarah and Howard Lund were living. We honeymooned in and around San Francisco.

I'm not sure what attracted me to Ross other than he was a nice guy and was fun to be with. He was an all-around nice person. Unlike the books and movies there were not magic bells and whistles. It seemed like what I ought to do, so I did.

At that particular time in WWII, it was particularly hard to get temple garments. There was a real shortage of material to make them out of, both during the war and after. We didn't know whether we were going to be able to go to the temple and be married because of lack of garments. We scrounged around and were able to get some underwear so we could go to the temple. Grandma Shirley said she would help round up some garments if we needed help, but I was able to get some down where I lived. There was a limited amount they had on sale, along with a lot of other stuff that was scarce at the time, which was just about everything.

After the honeymoon I soon discovered that hunting and fishing came first and I kind of took a back seat to those two. Other than that there was no problem. I figured he deserved to go hunting and fishing. He made a good living so I felt I shouldn't object to that. Of course, when you have to take a back seat it rankles you a bit.

Dad was always pretty easy to get along with. He doesn't complain about any money that I spend, and he doesn't complain about the meals. I was not the world's best cook but he didn't ever complain. Maybe once or twice, but not very often did he ever complain about anything I ever did.

Dad was 34 and I was 25 when we got married. Dad was used to taking care of his own finances. For the longest time he didn't even have my name on the checking account. I had to keep nagging at him to get it changed so I could write checks. He didn't have anything against it, he just never thought about it. I wrote out the checks for the bills, did the shopping for groceries, etc. I was the bookkeeper.

In-laws. I got along with the Shirley's fine, but there was kind of a coolness for awhile. Ross was the last member of his family to get married, and the rest had been around and together for umteen years and so they were a little "clique'y" and I was the outsider. Grandma Shirley used to get provoked at me. She'd call and want me to go to Relief Society and if I'd say no, then she'd say, "Well, why not?" She could be a little sharp with me. But, we got along generally pretty good. I used to take her shopping to the store. And things weren't all bad. We had a few run-ins because, of course, Grandma had her favorite daughters-in-law. She had known Mary and Ethelyn and Clara for much longer. I just wasn't one of the group. Rod's wife was also there, which made a bunch of Shirleys in the Salem Ward.

We were married in May, and Rod's wife died in December of the same year. She was more my age and we got along great. She died giving birth to Nile. It was sad to see Rod with so many little kids, but her mom was there and helped with the children, and we helped when we could.

There wasn't any interaction at all between the Shirley and Ward sides of the family. My folks were clear down there and we were up here. There was no inter-mixing or anything like that. There didn't seem to be anything that stands out in my mind as being different between the two families.

Advice on Marriage. Avoid it at all cost. No, not really. I think talking, talk things out, discuss things. The only thing about your dad is that he just goes ahead and does. One time, when we were first married, he bought a gun and never said a word about it to me. Then Blair Calaway told me about it. He had bought a gun and hid it and never told me a thing about it. I've been mad about that for fifty years. I dislike people doing things behind my back. I think people should be out in the open with what they are doing. Hiding stuff: That doesn't go over too good. At least it doesn't go over with me, maybe someone with another disposition it would be alright. It upsets me when things are done behind my back.

You also have to have a lot of patience. Look for the good points. Forget about the bad points. Everybody is going to have something you don't like. Try not to look at that, but look at the good points.

I think the only time I got up enough gumption to say no was when we thought about moving out to Moses Lake, Washington. I'm not sure if that was the time or not, but there was only about once I really put my foot down. I think there was another time when he wanted to buy a motorized hang-glider. I said absolutely not. I got quite wrathy about that. It might have been alright, but I just didn't feel good about it. I hope your dad is too old to be going out hang-gliding. (Scott's Notes: Dad and I were very excited about hang-gliders. I was married at the time. We went over to the airport to look at one. Mom was not happy. The project never happened.)

Dad had purchased 200 acres out in Moses Lake, which was just sage brush. We made some trips out there and stayed with the Calaways to clear sage brush and what have you. We were supposedly going to move out there. I don't know how come it worked out so we didn't, but thank goodness we didn't. I don't think any of you kids would be doing what you are now if we had made that move. I'm glad we didn't go. It was a good thing not to do.

Spouses for the Kids. I think some people hate to give their kids up. You wonder if so-and-so is going to be alright and make a fine enough wife or a fine enough husband and I've had some misgivings, but my goodness, I've certainly had to eat them. I think the thing was I didn't know some of the girls as well as I could have done to know what lovely people they are. I think that is the reason I could have had some doubts, but I didn't have very many, nothing serious, just wondering, gee whiz, I wonder if this is going to work out, and it has. I wouldn't trade any of my daughters-in-law or son-in-law for anyone in the world. When Ard comes and tells us how he likes to visit and be with us, you can't very well dispute that, now can you?

When my kids were just little, my mother old me one time, "Now, you're welcome to come down and visit, but you can't bring the kids and stay overnight." I thought, "Ohhh...kay, by golly, my kids are always going to be welcome, and my grandkids are going to be welcome, and I'm going to make them feel welcome to the best of my ability." And they will be welcome. I'm just happy to have them come. I'm tickled to death that they feel like they like to come, so I try to make things pleasant for them so they'll feel like they like to come and visit. I've heard several of the grandkids talk about the little Sunday visits we have and it tickles me to hear them say they like those. That really makes me feel good. I hope they'll always feel that way.

I don't have any other thoughts on marriage, other than I don't think I'll go into it again. Hopefully! I hope re-marriage is not an option at my age.

Religion. I was blessed by my father on November 6, 1921. My dad was ward clerk at the time and made out the certificate himself. The bishop signed it, then he signed it as Ward Clerk.

I was baptized on my birthday, September 14, 1929 by my dad. We went up to Udy Hot Springs where everybody swam. Nobody else was in the pool and so I was baptized and was indignant because I couldn't stay and swim after my baptism. That afternoon we had a birthday party. Udy Hot Springs was up by Plymouth, by the freeway.

Church. There was a basement in our church house and there was a long, dark hallway with classrooms on either side with no lights. I can still remember going down that long dark hallway with no lights on and that was pretty scary.

The old church house in Riverside had a balcony and we'd go to mutual and there was a program about 9:00 p.m. that was very popular on the radio. All we wanted to do was go home and listen to that. So, when it got to be about the time for us to "skizzy" home and hear our program, we'd get up and leave the class, which was held up in the balcony. I'm not very proud of that, but that is what we did. The program was something about "The Shadow, The Shadow Knows," or something like that.

One time a few friends and I decided to sit up in the balcony rather than sit down in the congregation for Sacrament Meeting. After opening exercises the bishop asked if we would come down so that they didn't have to pass the sacrament up in the balcony. I was very embarrassed.

Sunday School was at ten in the morning. Sacrament Meeting was at about seven in the evening. Sometimes, when Dad couldn't go, I'd have to go and take the minutes of what went on in the meeting.

Each of the ladies in the ward had to take their turn taking care of the sacrament. That meant she would bring home the sacrament trays and we would have to wash them. It was my job to dry them. They were small glass cups. We didn't have plastic in those days. They were about the same size as the ones we have now. Then we would take them back to the next meeting.

Callings. When I was in high school I was the organist for a few years in Sunday School, on an old pump organ. I took music lessons and all we had was that pump organ. I was highly indignant, but I took enough lessons that I knew how to play, at the insistence of my mother. Welton played the sax, but none of the other kids played instruments. Mother played the organ in church and Dad was a good singer and lead the singing.

I also taught Sunday School when I was in high school. After we were married I was a counselor in the primary. I was called to work on the primary stake board. Then I was coordinator of the Jr. Sunday School. Then I was called to be the Stake Coordinator of the Jr. Sunday School. I did not like the Stake jobs. I had what you might call an inferiority complex or whatever you call that and I felt very uncomfortable on the Stake Board jobs. I'm not a leader, I'm a follower. I was glad when I was released from that. I was organist in the Relief Society for awhile and a secretary also.

We spent all our married lives in the Salem Ward, then after the flood we moved to the Wilford Ward by St. Anthony. Then they divided the Wilford Ward and we became the Second Ward, and I was issued the very first temple recommend out of the Wilford jSecond Ward.

My favorite job in the church was teaching the little kids in Primary and Jr. Sunday School. I was called to teach in Young Women's, but I enjoyed teaching the little kids much more.

Temple. The first time I went to the temple was to get married. We were asked to be the witness couple that day and we didn't know what we were doing. At that time there was a long stairway leading up. We were the only couple there that particular day. They called us up first. We started up and I had a long wedding dress on and hadn't held it up in front, so I walked up the front of my dress and got all tangled up. I remember looking back at all those faces looking up at what we were doing. I was so embarrassed.

Not too much of the Temple ceremony sunk in that day. It was all so new and strange and what have you. We were all nervous and everything. Les had told Dad to remember everything and he was nervous because he couldn't remember it all. Brother Christiansen performed the ceremony. He gave us a real nice talking-to before we were married.

I was called to work as an ordainance worker on August 17, 1983, and worked until July 26, 1996. I liked that. For awhile, Dad and I had the lead parts. I thought that was great and got quite teary about it but it was quite an enjoyable experience.

Missions. Sending sons on missions was something else. I was glad that they were worthy to go. But you hate to see your kids climbing on planes, flying off to a foreign country. Of course we had to shed a few tears. For a long time I didn't go to church because I didn't want to sing, "Till We Meet Again." It would just get me where I live, so I didn't try to sing that for a long time. I don't think I ever doubted that they would be all right. Neal and Dale went to Brazil and Scott went to Guatemala. It wasn't like they were close to home. I never worried while they were gone. I probably should have done but I just felt that they would be taken care of and be all right. But I was glad when they got back home.

Patriarchal Blessing. My Patriarchal Blessing was important to me. They blessed me that every organ of my body would work the way it should. I feel that I have really been blessed in that respect because I really have enjoyed good health. That is one of the main things that stuck out in my mind about my Patriarchal Blessing.

Testimony. In thinking about how or when I got my testimony, it's something I've never really thought about. I've just always known that the church was true, and I can't remember when I didn't. It's just something I've had instilled in me all my life. I really don't think my testimony has ever been tested. It has just been something that I figured was, and is. I don't think I've ever had any occassion to doubt anything at all.

Teton Dam Memories - By Dale Shirley

My memory of the Teton Dam collapse begins on that Saturday Morning. Mom and Dad had come to Salt Lake since we were planning on giving Chris a name and a blessing in church on Sunday. They had arrived on Friday night and stayed that night. (Scott's Notes: The picture at the left shows the water as it is hitting Dad's house at top center of photo. In the center of the photo is a house that has been circled. That is Ron Kinghorn's house. It hit Grandpa Shirley's house, Grandpa Kinghorn's house, and my apartment at almost the same instant.)

It was customary at that time for me to work half days on Saturday so I left early and went to the house we were working on and set up the tools and went to work. I turned on the radio as usual and it just so happened that an employee of the station that I was listening to had left early that morning for a vacation in Yellowstone Park. When he got to the Rexburg area, word was out that the dam was breaking up so he posponed his vacation and was calling in real time information on the events to the radio station. I immediately rolled up the tools and went back home to tell Mom and Dad what I had heard. We listened to the radio for a while and kept surfing the TV stations until one of them finally got some people up there and got some pictures on the TV.

It was interesting to read Neal's account of that morning. From my end of the conversation, I don't remember Dad saying anything about getting his Colt Python. What I remember is Dad telling him to forget everything and just get his butt out of there. In Nephi"s account I noticed also that he failed to mention that the chest freezer that he loaded in the back of the truck had just been filled up with beef that had just been butchered. I once asked him how he got a loaded freezer in the back of his truck by himself and all he said was "Well... the adrenalin was flowing."

Another interesting event was a call that we got from Jan in the hospital in Idaho Falls. She had just had a baby and was unable to get a hold of Scott and was wondering if we had heard anything from him. A while later Scott called and said that he was okay. We told him that Jan had called but he said that he was unable to get a phone connection to the hospital. We then called the hospital and got through and told Jan that we had heard from him. I thought it was quite interesting that both of them could get connections out of state but could not call each other.

Sunday morning we went out early to get a paper and the front page showed an aerial photograph taken of the flood waters going through Sugar. We could see Dad's house in the photograph about a hundred yards from the edge of the water so we were sure that the house had been hit. We decided to forgo keeping the Sabbath Day and set out to get supplies and load up the trucks with stuff that we thought we might need in Idaho. When it came time for church, we dressed up and went to the church. j At the appropriate time, we filed up to the front and gave Chris a name and a blessing. Then, instead of returning to our seats, we all filed out and went home. I've often wondered what the other members of the ward thought, but knowing me it was probably nothing out of the norm.

We went home and changed clothes and farmed out the kids. I can't remember who had them but Janene and I and Chuck Lush, a neighbor of mine, and Brent Ekins, an old missionary companion, and Ard and Jan and Mom and Dad took off for Idaho in a convoy packing everhthing we thought we might need. We drove to the Port of Entry near Pocatello where we were informed that the road was closed to Rexburg and we wouldn't be allowed through. We went back to McKammon and went up through Lava Hot Springs and on up to Driggs. We then took the road above the dam and reservoir to Ashton and then down the other side to St. Anthony and Nephi's house. We arrived very late at night and there was nothing to see because it was so dark. We bedded down in sleeping bags in the family room. I don't know about anybody else, but I didn't get much sleep, but it wasn't because of the accommodations.

When it started to get light I got up and that was when I began to wonder what we had gotten ourselves into. The first thing I saw in the early morning light was the railroad tracks standing on end just down the road. When everybody else was up and ready, we got in the trucks and started on the way to Dad's house. As we got near the tracks, it was amazing to see them raised up on end for a while, then turned completely over for a while. Then the ties had been stripped off the rails and floated away, leaving these bands of rails running at random out through the fields. Where they crossed the road, somebody had unbolted the rails and taken a few sections out so we could get through on the road. We went on down the road to Hawkes' corner where we turned west. I noticed a house there that had been torn in half. I noticed that the plywood on the roof had been pulled off the trusses like bricks. Being in construction, I made a mental note on the importance of making sure the panels are nailed according to specs when I install them.

We drove to the road that turned south to Dad's house and drove to Harding's house where the road was washed out. The river bridge was packed with debris both on the bridge and under it, so the water had been forced out of the channel and was now running around both ends of the bridge. We used whatever we could find to construct a make shift bridge from the bank to the north abutment of the bridge. We packed up everything we could carry and crossed the bridge to the abutment. We then had to clear our way across the bridge and then construct another makeshift bridge from the south abutment to the south bank. As we were getting off the bridge, Mom stepped into the mud and it pulled off her shoe. We hunted around in the mud but never found it.

The hike from there to Mom and Dad's house was really strange. It was sunny and calm and was what you might think was a a beautiful day, and yet everything else was almost surreal. Some of the utility poles had been pushed crooked. Fence lines were draped with debris or missing entirely. Farm equipment and parts of buildings had been scattered at random everytwhere. All of the old familiar landmarks had either been altered or destroyed. j Overhead was a constant stream of helicopters each with the carcass of a dead farm animal hanging by a cable underneath it. I had never thought about it, but the rotting carcass of a dead animal in standing water could very quickly create a big problem, so I was glad somebody thought about it and got right on the problem.

As we got past Browning's house and Dad's house came into view, my spirits were lifted because the house was still there and apparently intact. I first went into the shed with Neph and Dad. As we began to look around we began to feel pretty good that things were still there, even though they were caked with mud. Apparently, the boat had floated inside the shed with the trailer still strapped on the bottom and then settled back down on the ground still upright when the water receded. I then went to the house and saw the message Scott had left in the mud. He had broken a window to get in the house only to find the door wasn't locked and we gave him a hard time about it for a long time after the flood.

Our spirits were also lifted as we looked around the house. About three feet of water got into the house, but a lot of stuff had been moved upstairs after we kids moved out, so a log of stuff was spared. We began pulling up the carpet and washing it out in the water 6that was still covering the front lawn. We even found the cat hiding in the garage. The dog was never found but somehow the old cat, even thought it was freaked out, managed to survive. It took quite a while before it calmed down and would allow anybody to pick it up.

After working for several hours, I became curious about an object I could see in the water about twenty feet west of the front of the garage. It was humped out of the water and I had looked at it several times and thought it looked like the bottom of a cast iron sink. Having worked under a few sinks, that is what I thought it was. It was so difficult to walk around that I hadn't investigated it before. There was about six inches of fine silt on the ground covered by about a foot of water so it took a lot of effort to pull each foot out of the mud to walk anywhere. In light of losing her shoe, we just didn't go anywhere we didn't really need to go. Finally I decided that if it was a sink there would be a hole in ;the bottom and there clearly wasn't so I went over to investigate. As I approached it, I could see some shoes under the water on the far side and I thought, "Boy, if that is a coincidence, it isn't very funny." Another step or two and I realized that I could see the color of flesh under the water on the near side and that is when I realized that it was a body. He was wearing a pair of coveralls and thee gray color was what reminded me of the bottom of a sink. We had all tried that morning to be optimistic and keep Mom and Dad encouraged but that discovery completely deflated me. It had never occurred to me that we might find a body there. (Scott's Notes: The picture at left is me taken from the bathroom hallway looking through Mom and Dad's bedroom into the kitchen).

Knowing how sensitive Mom is, we decided not to upset the women so we approached Dad privately and told him what we had found. He went out and turned the body over to see if he recognized the guy but he didn't. A passerby who saw us out there came over and said he was sure it was somebody that he knew but it turned out it wasn't who he thought it was. The body had been face down in the water and was swollen and hard to recognize. It was then that I realized just how helpless we were. There were no phone lines to call anybody and we had just built a bridge and hiked in to get there and now what are we going to do with a body? We decided to keep quiet and keep working and so we did.

Earlier we had taken a break and made some sandwiches out of stuff we found in the house. We sat in chairs in the water on the front lawn and ate. Quite by coincidence we are all sitting facing the body but nobody knew at the time that it was there.

We worked for a while longer. In addition to the choppers carrying out the dead animals, there were choppers owned by the sheriff patrolling the area. The next time one came close to the house, Dad went out and flagged it down. Mom was embarrassed and asked us what on earth he was doing but we kept our mouths shut. They checked out the body and that let the cat out of the bag to the rest of the group. As you might have guessed, Mom's eyes filled with tears even though she didn't even know the guy. They told us that the chopper was too small to take the guy so they would call in some help and they took off.

A few hours later, an Army four wheel drive ambulance came bouncing and sloshing through the mud and debris and arrived at the house. They took a body bag out and rolled the guy into it, but due to the silt and water it was way too heavy and difficult to carry out. A few of us were pressed into service and we took a hold of the handles on the body bag and struggled through the mud over to the road where the ambulance was. On the way a helicopter overhead zoomed in and I looked up to see a guy in it taking pictures just as fast as he could click the shutter. I wondered what kind of morbid guy he was. It turned out that it was a press chopper chartered by United Press International. One of the pictures was picked up and printed on the front page of the newspaper in Orem. My in-laws recognized the house even though they had only been to the house once for our wedding reception, and the picture was taken from the air, so I really don't know how they recognized the house. It is the same picture that Scott has on the blog. It is the only time in my life that I have ever made the front page of the newspaper.

One of the first things we noticed when we arrived in the morning was that the old house trailer parked in the yard was missing. It was pretty much to be expected that a house trailer would be an easy victim to a flood. One would expect that the water would roll the trailer over until it fell apart and scatter the remains downstream. That afternoon, I think it was Neal that got Dad's binoculars and spotted the trailer about half a mile away from the upstairs window. The water had picked it up and carried it upright until the wheels caught on something so the water set it back down still intact. Neal and Dad later went over and got it and towed it back home. It is interesting that some of Mom and Dad's food storage had been kept in the trailer. A few bags of grain had gotten wet but a lot of stuff was still okay. It sort of makes you wonder if it was being watched over, doesn't it? (Note from Scott: The above picture shows Dad retrieving the lost trailer. Between the tractor and the trailer is our house in the distance).

We worked the rest of the day and then hiked back out and went back to Neal's house. I know I slept very well that night. We all had to get back to work so we went back to Salt Lake and that was pretty much the end of my Teton Dam Experience. I felt bad that I couldn't stay and help. A lot of people from Salt Lake went up on excursions to help but I could always say that I was there first.

Most of the rest of the stuff I heard about the event was second-hand information. I had heard that trucks owned by the company that built the dam had rocks thrown at them as they went on their way up to the dam site. There are two stories involving Dad. I once heard him talk about being assigned to do patrol at night to help prevent the looters from coming in. He remarked about how quiet it was at night. Every field mouse and other creatures of the night had been washed away and whenever he even heard a twig snap it gave him a start. I also heard a story about someone giving Dad a hard time using the old "Why did God allow this to happen to a bunch of Mormons?" argument. Dad's response was a simple, "God didn't build the Teton Dam."

Strange Brew - 1968-70

Late in 1968, Monte Schofield, Brooke Passey, Brent Nielsen, David Davenport and I started a rock band called Strange Brew. We took our name from the title of the song made popular by the group Cream. These are the chronicles according to the best of my memory.

I was not having fun in school. I was trying to be an athlete like my father and older brothers. A friend of mine had told me "Girls will not like you if you don't play basketball or football." I was good enough to make the team, but never got off the bench. Dad got off work one time to come watch me play basketball. With 30 seconds left in the game and our team well ahead, I was sent in the game. The ball was thrown to me, I threw it back, the game was over. Dad congratulated me on a game well-played. Reflecting on the situation, I asked myself, "Why don't you do what you are good at?" My course was set. I went home, called the coach on the phone and quit the team. I needed to be in a band. Now all I had to do was find one.

Monte Schofield and I had been very close all the way from first grade. We both played trumpet in the school band and had sung several times in a folk group with Shane Kunz and Robb Lawson (Robb and I had the same birthday, I was one hour older, the only thing I ever beat him in). Monte and I recruited various people in earlier bands. Jeff Rydalch played organ for a while and Kevin Miyasaki played drums, but for some reason they did not continue. We needed a bass guitar player. We talked to Brent Nielsen and he said he was game. He also said his dad would let us use the upstairs dance studio across from the high school (many of the neighbors complained about our practices). We needed an organ player. Monte recruited David Davenport. I wanted to play guitar, but we needed a drummer, so I got a set of drums and we let the games begin.

Our competition was stiff. It seemed everyone had a garage band in the late sixties. Kelly and Joe Keele, known as The Shadow People were our main competition at Sugar. The group known as The Affection Collection were from Idaho Falls. They had actually made a record Apple Blossom Time which was played on the radio. Whenever they were in town, we were out of luck.

The local chapter of the Lion's Club sponsored a yearly Battle of the Bands, which was great. The idea was to enter your band in a local city competition, such as Rexburg, Sugar, Teton, St. Anthony, etc.), and win first place. Then you qualified for regionals held at Rexburg. Then on to State. What a great chance to extend our 15 minutes of fame another thirty seconds or so.

We learned a lot from the first go-around, namely that we actually needed to practice to be successful (what a concept!). We also needed uniforms. So, we bought bright yellow, striped and flared, bell-bottom pants (move over Brady Bunch), matching shirts and neckerchiefs. I never knew who was in charge of costume design, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Our senior year we went up against the Shadow People in Sugar and lost. We practiced like crazy for the competition in Driggs. Only one band showed up to compete against us. It was a group from the college who thought they could easily beat us. They were wrong. We went away with all the prizes, as well as some individual trophies. Now, on to regionals.

We spent hours and hours getting ready for the Rexburg regional competition. The gym of Madison High School was packed with bands in each corner. We had drawn one of the last in the order of performance. When I saw the judges hand in their score cards before we were through playing I knew we were in trouble. The Shadow People emerged victorious from the shadows (pun intended). Even though Kelly Keele and I were both drummers for rival bands, we were very close friends and remained so for years. We even played a drum duet for the marching Digger Darlings in a competition at Ricks College.

We had many great experiences playing for dances. I recall one dance at Sugar when Mom and Dad came to listen. I'm sure it was not their type of music, but they sat quietly and pretended to enjoy the noise. The upstairs bedroom I slept in was often congested with drums, amplifiers and microphones. Uncle Rod told Dad he would not put up with that five minutes! Dad said, "Listen, as long as they are here, I know where they are and what they are doing. I would rather have Scott and all his friends right here in my home." That was a philosophy I tried to maintain with my own children.

I had the kind of relationship with Dad that was based on trust. I would tell him when I was going to be home and he would trust me. I never let him down, so the trust ran deep. I asked him if I could take his '68 Ford Torino to West Yellowstone to play for a dance we had booked. I told him we would be home around three in the morning. He said OK. We were packing up after the dance at about 12:30 a.m. when a group of local high schoolers approached me and said they wanted to invite us to a party. They said they wanted us to go "hot-potting" with them. I said I did not know what that was. They said they sneaked into the park to party in the hot pots along the river. I naively said we had not brought any suits with us. They burst into laughter. It dawned on me that our lack of attire would not be a problem. We had just finished the rock and roll, so all that remained was the drugs (plenty of alcohol) and the sex. It was the first time any of us had ever been invited to such an event. I suppose most teenagers would have jumped at the opportunity (Fantasy Island was a popular TV show at the time). The thought came to my mind, "If you do, there will be no mission." I knew I could never face Mom and Dad, and besides that, I knew Neal and Dale would beat the tar out of me. I said the only thing I could think about: "I promised my Dad I would have the car home by three."

The high school kids all laughed, then they realized I was serious. They walked away in disbelief. We packed up our things and drove back to Sugar City. We had been invited to an orgy and turned it down. It was a defining moment in my life. If I had gone, I would most likely never have served a mission, married in the temple, or qualified for the blessings I have received. I would have broken my mother's heart, disappointed my father, and been killed by my older brothers. Gladly, it was a positive experience, and yes, we were in attendance at priesthood meeting the following Sunday morning.

The band members were very loyal. I had participated in Declamation, which was a literary competition held at the high school. I had won the right to go to state and present a series of poems I had written. I told Miss Carey (we often called her "Miss Scary") that we had a dance in Montana that night and I would not be going to state. She was not happy with me. But, the show must go on.

We really were a "strange brew" of teenage kids, living in a time when we could go into a bar in Montana, where we were too young to even be in there, but negotiate a deal with the owners to provide the entertainment. We usually got $125 a night, which was pretty good. The best part was when we had back-to-back performance on Friday and Saturday night.

We had a close call in Deer Lodge, Montana, when we started to set up and the local union representative asked to see our union cards. We did not have one. This middle-aged woman gave us the run-around and threatened to shut down the show before it ever started. When we told her to take a hike she said her son-in-law was the sheriff. We were out of our league, being bullied by more seasoned adults. We ended up paying $50 or so for the privilege of playing, and the promise we would never come back. After the show, someone threw a brick at Brent Nielsen's car. We turned around and chased them long enough to get a license number. We spent most of the night filling out police reports at the local station. We were definitely not in Kansas, and a lot further from Sugar City.

We were playing for a street dance in West Yellowstone. The parking lot was marked off with a wooden snow fence. The local high school had hired us for the gig. A skinny kid about three inches shorter than I introduced himself as the bouncer. I thought, OK, right. We had been playing for about 45 minutes when two huge cowboys, each over 6'4" came staggering in to the dance. Their liquid refreshments had already been previously sampled. They started pushing around some of the boys and trying to dance with some of the girls. We were right in the middle of a song when I saw the bouncer come running across the parking lot, jumped up in the air and kicked one of the cowboys right in the butt. Just like it had been planned, all the girls moved to the outside of the dance area by the fence and every boy in the place jumped on the two cowboys. It reminded me of the National Geographic movies where arm ants take apart giant beetles and haul them away.

We did the only thing we could think of: We kept playing. Bodies were flying everywhere. A kid came rolling across the parking lot and hit into my bass drum. He got up, shook his head, and then ran out and jumped into the pile of inhumanity, punching whatever or whomever was handy. Still, we kept playing. It was like watching a movie. Then the cops came. They started digging into the pile of people, pulling out teenagers and tossing them aside, trying to find the mother lode at the bottom. They emerged with two battered cowboys, still lucky to be alive. They informed us the dance was over.

As we were packing our stuff, the bouncer came up to me smiling, "That was great, wasn't it!" He paid us our money and thanked us for a great time. I realized it was not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

It was as time when the places we were playing were dark and lined with "glow-in-the-dark" posters of Jimi Hendrix and the Beatles. Black lights made these posters glow, along with anything else that was white. The cigarette smoke was often thick and we had to get home in time to shower before going to church on Sunday morning. I recall watching people fall drunk on the floor during some of our performances. I remember thinking that we could not do this forever, nor should we. Sometimes it was like a field trip into Hell. Other times it was pure fun. Most every time we came home with our ears ringing. No doubt we did some damage to our hearing (what did you say?). I will always remember traveling together, getting hotels, booking dances, learning new songs, making things up as we went. What a true adventure. We had the chance to find out a lot of positive things about ourselves.

Being in the Strange Brew was clearly the most fun I had in high school. I have often been grateful that I was no good in athletics and that I was not successful in those terms. Now, over 40 years later, many of my athlete buddies have bad knees, hips and other assorted left-over high school reminders of their glory days. I am so lucky to still be rockin' after all these years.

Neal Ross Shirley - by Scott Shirley

The first memory I have of Neal is being carried around by him and being dropped. The next was when Dad had installed a clothes hanger in the hallway by the bathroom. I made a space between the clothes and was climbing and hanging on the metal rod when suddenly it gave way, hit me on the head, and then buried me in shirts and pants. Neal came in, dug me out from under the remains, and chewed me out for being so stupid. They were rather painful beginnings to an otherwise positive relationship.

Janet and I were the victims of a few of Neal and Dale's jokes. One Christmas Eve we boys were sleeping in the "boys bedroom" in the northeast corner of the house. There was a folding accordion door between the living room and the bedroom. We were so excited that sleep was impossible. Neal and Dale peeked out the door and then told me they had seen Santa's boot going out the door. When I tried to see for myself they would not let me. I was certain I had missed the chance of a five-year-old's lifetime.

Neal loved to flex in front of the big mirror in Mom and Dad's bedroom. He would take his shirt off and make the muscles bulge. Dad loved to box with us, so boxing gloves were always handy. Neal would often be working out and then seeing me sitting on the couch would throw the gloves at me and say, "You have one minute to defend yourself." I would throw the gloves at him, then wait for his attack. I would then lie on the couch at kick at him while he punched my feet. It was all in good fun, but I honestly tried my best to take his head off. I never could.

Our house was a quarter mile from Virgin's house, which was to the west. The local "hoods," (a.k.a. teenage punks, fore bearers of future gang bangers) would start at Virgin's house, then drag race the quarter mile to the intersection by our house, then go screaming past in both lanes. We would hear the engines roaring a quarter mile away, then come running out to see who won. On one occasion, after the drag was over, a police car showed up with two of the hoods in tow. They were a year or so older than Neal. They insisted they had not been racing. We all knew they had. The officer looked at Neal and asked him point-blank if the older boys had been racing. Everyone looked at Neal. He looked at the officer directly and said, "Yes, they were." The boys looked like a hot-air balloon going flat. Neal taught me an important lesson that day about telling the truth, no matter what. Had he lied, it would have taught me something entirely different.

Neal took Hawaiian guitar lessons, which got me interested in guitar. It was just expected of us to be able to play a variety of instruments. Neal formed a folk group which would practice at our house. I would hide behind the couch and sing along, which irritated Neal to no end. I would play around with Neal's acoustic guitar and ask him how to do different chords, etc. He would show me something, then let me work on it by myself. He wanted to de-string his 12-string guitar while he was on his mission, but I made a deal with him that if I learned how to play it, then I could use it while he was gone. I passed the test.

When I was in Jr. High, Neal and I started our first band. It was 1966. Neal played guitar and I had a set of drums. We wanted to be different than the Beatles (and believe me, we were), so instead of having long hair we shaved our head and called ourselves The Bald Ones. We entered a battle of the bands in West Yellowstone, which was a disaster, but we learned from the experience. We also did a show in Jackson Hole.

Neal and I have been in a variety of musical groups ever since. We have played folk, rock, country western, and bluegrass. We have performed at senior citizens centers, rest homes, church activities, bars, theaters, the Rexburg Tabernacle, elementary schools (both Madison and Teton Basin), as well as appearing three different times at the Ricks College Guitars Unplugged (Brandon played guitar with us for one of those). We also had a comedy number where I played the accordion, he played the trombone, and I sang Shaduppa You Face in an Italian accent. I have been on stage with Neal so many times that it seems only natural to look over and see him. Neal is a stickler for having the guitars in tune. I am rather unpredictable on stage, but Neal has learned to adapt. Some of my favorite memories are family get-togethers where we all get out the guitars and sing. Dad would often come over, sit in the middle of us, tap his feet and enjoy the songs.

When Neal was dating Cathie, I enjoyed being the obnoxious little brother. When Neal would bring her to the house I would always try to sit between them and watch Neal get mad. On one occasion I was giving Cathie a bad time when the song Chapel of Love came on. I told Cathie, "This song talks about going to the chapel and getting married. Don't listen to it!"

Dad would often come home after work and read the paper. The three of us little boys would get our heads together and make a plan. One would sneak up and flick his paper. He would pretend not to see us. We would flick it again, then pull the paper from him and the wrestling match was on. Neal and Dale would grab his legs and pull him from the couch. I would grab whatever I could and just hang on. We would end up in a big pile on the floor. Dad told me years later that after one such encounter he told Mom that he would have to start wrestling the boys one at a time because they were getting too big to handle and he was getting older.

After Neal's mission he needed money, so I bought his 12-stringer. Whenever we would get together to play I would play his Brazilian guitar and he would play my 12-stringer. Finally I suggested that we trade and he agreed. We have both been happy ever since.

When I left to go on my mission, Neal and Cathie were living in Utah in their trailer. Mom, Dad and I spent my last night staying with them. Brian had just been born and was so tiny. While I was on my mission in Guatemala I received a letter one night telling me that Neal and Cathie had lost a child due to complications. They told me that they had named their son Jared Scott Shirley. I felt so homesick and sad that I went upstairs to the top of the flat roof on our apartment building to be alone in the dark. There, through the tears, I saw a distant lightning storm and heard the delayed rumble. I felt a feeling of peace and comfort. Storms come and go, but are necessary to leave life-giving waters behind, even if it comes in the form of tears. With a renewed sense of purpose, I went back down to my apartment and went to work. After all, I wanted to be as good a missionary as Neal and Dale had been.

Dale Ward Shirley - by Scott Shirley

Introduction by Dale Shirley: Just a comment or two on the nicknames. "Stretch" was not my first nickname. When we were a lot younger, Nephi called me "littlie" or "little little." The "Stretch" nickname showed up one year at the Treasure Mountain Camp of the Tetons scout camp near Driggs. I had one of my growth spurts and when we went to camp, we were all lined up for flag ceremony and there I was a whole head taller than all the other boys in line. One of the camp staff called me stretch and everybody laughed but we pretty much forgot about it. Then a few years later we were sitting around at school and talking about old times and one of the guys remembered when the councilor at camp called me stretch and everybody laughed and the nickname stuck ever since. It should be noted however that 1) - I am a construction superintendent, 2) - I have been divorced, and 3) - I have raised five teen-agers by myself. I have been called everything you can imagine and a few things your can't imagine, so "Stretch" is one that I feel pretty good about.

Biography: For so much of his life, Dale was known as "Stretch." He was the tallest of the family at 6'3''. He was born a year and one month after Neal, and three years before Janet and I came along. Mom said that because Dad was 34 and Mom was 25 when they got married, they were anxious to get their family here. The four of us were born within a six-year span. We lived just inside the border of the Sugar Ward, but Mom and Dad attended the Salem Ward. No one objected.

My first recollections of Dale involved me trying to follow him everywhere. He watched out for me many times. I remember people lining Dale and I side by side and laughing about how we looked so much alike (except for the fact that I was less than half his size).

Stretch was a builder. He loved to spend hours putting together model skyscrapers from a building set he got for Christmas. The little blocks were inter-locking half-inch blocks, with little doors and windows that actually opened and shut. The floors where checker-board red and white. Stretch would create building about 3 to 4 feet high, following the directions for the most part, but adding his own creations as well. He and Neal also built model cars, which were on constant display across the curtain rod cover above the picture window on the east side of the living room. They also built WWII models of various airplanes (which Janet and I packed with firecrackers and threw from the upstairs window years later - I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at he time).

Stretch took two 55 gallon drums that Dad had in the back and built a wo0den frame around it. He created a raft and launched it in the canal, securing it to the support wire that kept the power pole on the canal bank straight. An outrigger was added with inner-tubes on each side to keep the raft from tipping. Dale often got into the canal and pulled the raft up the road a couple of hundred yards to the check so that Janet and I could ride back down to our house. That is where he and Neal taught Janet and I how to swim.

Stretch was also a mechanic. He and Neal asked Dad if they could take the old baler engine (the "Wisc", short for Wisconsin) and overhaul it. Dad allowed them to do it. When they had questions, they asked people who knew. They spent many hours out in the garage working late into the night with Jim Cutler. I remember the day when they finally got it ready and had to start the engine with a hand crank. Everyone cheered as it roared to life. It never was used to power anything, but it taught the boys 1) how to overhaul an engine, and 2) anything you decide to accomplish can be done. It is also an example of how Dad let us tackle the impossible, helping when necessary, and encouraging us through our many failures. He often mentioned how many times they could not sleep because of the mechanics that were going on outside their bedroom window. Oh, the price of parenthood.

Dale was on his back underneath his '53 Ford when he noticed what he thought was the cat moving from his heels toward his head. Looking closer he could see it was a skunk. The only thing he could do was freeze, turn his head to the side and close his eyes. As the skunk waddled past his head its tail brushed his cheek. Still, he kept his composure until the animal was gone. That is what I call courage under pressure. Years earlier, Neal had gone up the road in his '59 Chevy for a date, only to return quickly to use Dale's car because he had hit a skunk. I remember a few nights waking up to the stiff stench of skunk odor. The dog would eat with the skunks in the back until he thought we were aware of him consorting with the enemy. We all paid the price of that turn-coat.

Stretch and Neal were both athletes. Stretch got his nickname from one of the coaches at Sugar Salem. Stretch played tackle, Neal was a guard. Many times they played both offense and defense. Dale was very calm and collected, but when he played football, he was a force to be reckoned with. One time a guy on the opposing team blind-sided Dale after the play was over. Stretch got up and when the next play went the other way, he took the guy to the ground, and with his face-guard interlocking the offender, informed him in no uncertain terms what would happen for the rest of the game. The guy stayed away from Stretch from then on.

I learned how to work by watching Dale. Everyone had a pipe-moving job. We just naturally expected to make our own money. I earned 5 cents a pipe and a penny bonus if we stayed all year. We always stayed the entire year. Stretch worked for Parkinson's. Many times he would have to move the line from one side of the field to another, so he would load the entire line onto the trailer by himself. He and Neal were always in "training" for one sport or another, which meant they had to watch carefully what they ate and report any violation to the coaches. They never broke training, to my knowledge.

One of the first jobs I had was working with Dale for our cousin, Jim Shirley. He bought loads of used house brick and dumped them in a field just north of the cement plant. I was about ten, Dale about 13. We would go to work chipping off the mortar from the bricks and stacking them on pallets. We were paid one penny per brick (which meant we were not getting rich). I was always trying to catch up to Dale, who always presented the example of "dogged determination." I never once saw him slacking off. I always wanted to be like Dale, and still do today.

Dale and I moved sprinkler pipes together for Ralph Pocock when Dale first got back from his misison. On the way to work I was telling him about a girl in one of my classes that I wanted to ask out on a date, but she was "Miss Manitoba," so she probably wouldn't want to go out with someone like me. Dale looked at me and said, "You are never out-classed until you think you are." I believed everything Dale told me, so I asked Miss Manitoba out on a date. She turned me down (something about washing her hair), but the important thing was that I asked her out. I have remembered not to sell myself short. Oh, Canada!

Neal and Dale both got mission calls to the Brazilian South mission. Neal went shortly before Dale. We were amazed that they would be called to the same mission. They were given the opportunity to work together and served with distinction. They sent home two Amazon parrots, which quickly became part of the family, calling Janet and I to get out of bed each morning. Often when we said the blessing on the food and began the prayer with, "Father in Heaven...," a voice from Mr. Bird would say, "Hello?"

Dale and Neal were great examples for a younger brother to follow. I remember avoiding potential problems and temptations with the idea, "My brothers will kill me," and they would have. Neal and Dale frequently went hunting and fishing with Dad, something that never did appeal to me very much. We often ate wild meat, including deer, pheasant and duck.

Dale and Neal set another example in terms of music. Stretch and I learned how to play accordion. Mom also played. Neal and Dale played trombone in the Sugar Salem school band. They also sang in Madrigals (choir group). Dale was Senior Class President. He was also into calculus and trig, competing in Mathlete competitions at the college. His former math teacher, Mr. Romrell, still talks about how smart Dale was.

Dale is a master chef. He loves to cook "Conference Cuisine" for family members. Kids, cousins and assorted family members meet during General Conference at Stretch's house for a meal as well as good family fun. He follows the same tradition Dad had of making his home a place where family and friends want to gather. The love Dale has for his family is obvious in the things he both says and does.

Dale has been one of the most influential people in my life. I couldn't have asked for a better example of all the things I wanted to become. He exemplifies true Christianity. His personal integrity is unquestioned. I asked him once when things were rather grim how he was managing. He said, "I read Section 121 and 122 a lot." He is not a complainer, nor ever has been. He makes the best of every situation. I still want to be like him when I grow up.

Music in the Family

Music has always been a part of the Shirley Family. Amos Moses Virgin, Ross' grandfather, plyed the fiddle. Ross' father played the bass horn in the Salem Silver Band. Dad and Mom both sang in the Salem Ward Choir. Dad was a bass and Mom an alto. I remember sitting by them in the choir during practice after a meeting and enjoying the music. Dad sang in a musical in St. Anthony. Mom loved to play the piano and I loved to hear her play.

If we wanted to play a particular instrument, Dad found a way to make it happen. Neal took guitar lessons in Rexburg and had a black Hawaiian guitar, that I loved to experiment with. Dale and I both took accordian lessons. Mom also played accordion. I still have the little 12-button instrument. Janet and I took piano lessons from Mrs. Mortensen. Neal and Dale both played trombone, so when it came time for me to take summer band, I wanted to be different. I put the names of several instruments in a hat and drew out "trumpet." I think I remember stacking the deck so that would happen. Dad supplied us with trombones and a trumpet. Neal had a folk group that would practice at our house. I would hide behind the couch and sing along, which did not make Neal happy. When Neal and I started a rock and roll band, Dad got me a set of drums. Our upstairs bedroom was where we practiced, so you had to climb over drums and amplifiers in order to get into bed. I was very interested in guitar, so when Neal was about to go on his mission I made a deal with him that if I could play the guitar well enough before he left he would let me play it while he was gone. I passed the test. When I was very young I remember asking Dad if I could get a harmonica. He asked me how I knew I could even play it. I told him I just knew I could. He got me one and I have enjoyed playing it. Some things you just know.

Dale learned how to play guitar as well. We had many family impromptu performances at family get-togethers. We would eat, then get out the guitars and sing the same old songs. Dad would come over and sit close to us so he could hear. His feet would tap along with the rhythm. It was, and still is, very gratifying to me when we still get together and sing and play. I love it when my kids and grandkids join us. I can't imagine life without music. I am so grateful for parents who fostered this love and other ancestors who actively encouraged it.

Janet Shirley Howell - by Scott Shirley

After two baby boys in a row, Mom was looking forward to the possibility of having a daughter. She had picked out the name Ann. When I (Scott) was born, Mom still had hopes for a girl. When Verna Shirley used the name of Ann for their daughter, Mom went with the name of Janet, which I think fits her much better.

Brothers and sisters are the people you will know longer than anyone else during your life, even your parents. Janet was my first friend. In our family there were the "older kids," and the "younger kids." Neal and Dale were one year apart, then three years went by before Janet and I were born two years apart. Janet had to grow up tough, being surrounded by so many boys. When we went on a trip, Janet got to sit in the front between Mom and Dad, while I had to sit between Neal and Dale in the back, making sure not to touch them when we went around corners.

Janet and I spent a lot of time riding our bikes down to Virgin's to play with our cousins. We often swam in the canal and rode on the rafts that Stretch built. We would swim in the cold water and ride tubes down the canal, then lay out on the hot pavement to get warm in the sun, moving for an occassional car to pass. We also rode the horse up and down the canal. The horse was not afraid of water, so we would throw a bridal on and ride up to the canal check and go right on in. Janet would hang onto me as I held the reigns and a handfull of mane as the horse would jump out into the water as it came over the check. We had to make sure we were situated when the horse came up out of the water or we would get washed away.

Janet was involved in Dance at Debbie Owen's dance studio. Mom loved having a daughter. I honestly do not think any of us were loved more than any onyone else. There is an old saying that says, "A son is a son 'til he has him a wife, a Daughter's a daughter the rest of her life." I think that is true. Mom loved doing "girl things" with Janet.

Jan was a "sun worshiper." She and I both had the "Shirley skin" that turned dark brown and seldom burned. I think we got that from Dad. Jan would climb up on the garage roof and sun bathe. Her light blond hair and dark tan gave her the "California girl" look.

Jan has always been an animal lover. Living on a corner in the country meant that city folks would come out and dump off dogs and cats they did not want. Dad would do his best to chase them off, but Janet would sneak out and feed them. Guess who won. I remember dogs by the name of Nuggs, Puppy, Rusty, and cats named Sass and Madam Gnu, who was a Siamese cat that couldn't decide between our house and Irvin Ball's. We had two Amazon parrots Neal and Dale sent home from Brazil, and we had two bear cubs Dad raised behind the house. We also had a Bassett hound named John Boy. He was legitimate, with real papers. We had a parakeet named Clyde, who would stick his head in our mouths and clean our teeth. Jan and I even took a shot at raising a baby owl, named Vandermier.

Janet and I once went "hunting" with Neal's B-B gun at the "swamp" which was just east of our house. I shot a rather colorful songbird. It fell in the water and was wounded. Jan and I felt terrible, so we waded out in the water, rescued the bird, took it home, nursed it back to health and let it go. We didn't do much hunting after that.

To say Jan was a cat-lover would be putting it mildly. Bud is the cat pictured in the plants and on Jan's back. Another was Zane. Staying at Jan and Ard's house was always an adventure wondering what the cats would do next.

"Uncle Ard" was a great addition to our family. I first met him shortly before the Teton Dam disaster. He and Jan have been like an extra set of parents for all of Ross and Marge's grandkids. Jan has come to all the family baby blessings she could and recorded the words in shorthand for us to keep. She remains close to all the grandkids and has done more "mothering" than she will ever know.

She was my first friend, and remains so today. Her loyalty has always been noted by our family. If someone had Jan for a friend, she would stand by them not matter what. How lucky we were to have Janet in our family.