G is for Generations

                We must have stopped for gas in Central Point on our way home from Salt Lake last Christmas.  I remember stopping in a used book store.  I found a keepsake journal called “The Grandparent Book”.  Amy Brouse Rosenthal had created a book with a giant upper case “G” on both front and back covers.  

The purpose is for a grandparent to journalize his/her life and allow the grandchild to make comparisons of their life to the grand.  None of the pages were marked.  It was in excellent condition and inexpensive.  Thus we purchased it and I planned to fill it out.

          The book is designed for one grandparent or the other.  And as all the grandkids have biological ties to Roland, I thought he should be the one to fill out the pages.  I decided we should give it to our only grandson who will turn one on Friday.  He and Roland practically share a birthday as his is the day before.  Roland and Robbie are 65 years apart. 

          Not all the pictures we used match the page description.  I was quite limited on my options of photos to choose from.  But I was able to use photos of Roland and Tony (Robbie’s dad) when Tony was still in diapers and so that might be fun for Robbie to appreciate as he gets older.  I will mail the book out today and send it priority so that it will get there for his birthday – not that he will fully appreciate it now.  But mom and dad might, and even his oldest sister, Ester. 

          I hope this book will become a great treasure and he will get to know another grandpa.

Lessons of Our Lives

          Roland was watching a documentary the other day about the brain and its functions.  The first series was about the hippocampus and explained how sometimes our memories are distorted.  In other words, we sometimes remember details but do not relate them accurately, or else we are accurate but the memories are not our personal memories but rather someone else’s.  Examples that were used came from those who were affected by September 11, 2001 so much that they felt they had been there when the towers were struck and crumbled.  Sometimes our memories are fabricated.

          I notice the “fabrication” each time Roland relates experiences about our marriage or when he relates memories of the boys.  He always tells it a bit differently until after a while it doesn’t sound like there's much truth to it. But then again, I probably do that too - especially as I get older.  I notice that I don't remember all the details as vividly as I did at one time.

          Earlier last month, Roland bore his testimony in church and tried to relate the experience we had shared with the boys during a family home evening found at the end of this post.  He told about how each boy had been given twenty dollars and what the results were and made a comparison to their lives today.  While the analogy of his fabricated story seemed impressive, there were some inaccuracies – even from the way he tried to compare it to the scriptures found in Matthew 25 (he had retold that inaccurately as well) which is all the more reason each of us need to write things down.

           

          I know if I don’t have the opportunity of writing my thoughts down when they occur, I forget the details.  Believe it or not, I did not complete my original thoughts on Bandon but still managed to get out five posts.  But I know they weren’t as accurate as they would have been if I could have recorded it as it was happening.  Even Corey has been guilty of this (see here) – commenting that his head was full of ideas and he wanted to write future posts for so many subjects including my daughter’s baptism.  I looked forward to reading his thoughts, but alas, they never got posted as the details had been removed from his hippocampus.

          The point is: what we perceive as facts change over time.  Roland had the boys with our youngest making lots of money, our oldest doing okay but only breaking even, however he had our middle son spot on as he drank “his talent” – hid it within himself.  He compared it to the success that our youngest seems to be doing financially, our oldest living with his in-laws (his late wife’s parents) with his girlfriend and daughter – never having settled on just one job.  And then our middle son who has been on probation from his job and is currently on welfare.

          My oldest son seems to be living a soap opera kind of life – which I have touched on a little bit. Our youngest just moved to New York and has moved into an existing home.  I thought it an interesting analogy as Roland related their “talent usage” compared to real life.

Let’s Go Bowling

          Though Roland did want to take care of some projects around the house and yard, he didn’t wish to spend his entire vacation laboring.  He wanted to spend money going to shows, seeing sights, or something else that would qualify as a vacation. Last week on Monday evening he decided that we should go bowling for family home evening.  We decided to go to Nickle Bowl – but along with half to most of the businesses in Myrtle Creek, Nickle Bowl is closed on Mondays.  Thus we went up to Roseburg.

          The last few times we’ve gone, I have always chosen a lighter ball.  My wrist doesn’t appreciate the extra weight of a bowling ball.  Also, the holes seem more spread out on the heavier balls and I have tiny hands. Whenever we bowl either Jenna and I will make the request to have bumpers as it will prevent us from getting from 10 – 20 gutter balls. 

Bowling always reminds me of other times I have spent at various bowling alleys. When my own family had gone bowling, I remember how Kayla would somehow put a spin on her ball and appear to be coaching it.  She would move her arm from one gutter to the other to guide the ball to move from one side to the other.  It somehow worked!  It was as though she were acting as a voodoo doll for her ball.  Even when she turned around, the ball would appear to do the same thing.  It was like an unbelievable magic.

          I don’t recall whether it had been Corey or Kayla, but one of them let the ball go before the pinsetter had finished – not that either one of them threw hard enough to damage it.  Or else the pinsetter would hit a wiggling pin and knock it down causing it to knock down other pins. For the most part, I have happy memories. 

When Roland and I were first dating, I remember Tony having set up ten pop bottles at the end of the hall.  I don’t recall what kind of ball he used to knock the bottles down.  I smiled at his desire to bowl. 

          PE was always a requirement as part of the high school curriculum.  There was always a choice offered for different physical activity classes.  For example, I had signed up for modern dance.  Corey took a class that introduced sports such as bowling and golf.  I don’t recall what the name of the class was as written in the catalog.  Mom and Corey always referred to it as “wimpy gym”.

January 2005

          When I was serving my mission in Woodbridge, there was one preparation day that my companion decided to go bowling.  We were horrible.  One member asked us how horrible.  I said that the best we did was 254 (or whatever it was) and she said that was great.  I said, “Not when you consider we played two games and I just totaled up all four scores together”

          We had the choice of bowling per game or bowling for an hour.  We saved three dollars by bowling for an hour and were able to get in two games each.  We made jokes about the lane itself #13 that had problems returning balls over 14 pounds.  Roland traded his 15 for a 13 which still got stuck, but Jenna’s did not get stuck and she had a 14.  I had a 10.  The final scores were:

Jenna: 91 and 102, 

Roland:  102 and 114

and my 80 and 85

          We got something to eat before returning back to Myrtle Creek.  Construction blocking where we needed to get on the freeway.  Rather than continue south, Roland went back north to get on before taking the ramp back south.

On the Right Path

          When we lived in Kearns, there was a family in the ward that made up for a third of the primary.  I honestly don’t remember which of us moved out of the ward first, but I do know they have moved around many times – both within and out of the country.  I would guess that they’ve accounted for at least half to a third of their wards or branches (both geographical boundaries within the church – a branch is smaller in membership than a ward) in almost every place they live.  

She has a blog which I have read every once in a while as she only posts once in a while. 

          Right now they are living in New York.  I would have not known that if my daughter-in-law, Carrie, hadn’t told me.  She and Randy had gone out to look for houses.  While there, they went to the ward in the area where they plan on living.  I’m happy to learn that they now have ties to someone who is strong in the gospel.   I am excited for them.  I hope they grow and create strong memories for themselves.

Dash #5 EMES & 40 school lunch

            I don’t remember the elementary school having a particular smell.  I remember the option of two ways to walk there on foot.  Seems like it may have been faster to walk up our street and over on third east and down than the safer way which we usually went – over 240 to 260 and came in behind the school. The playgrounds were behind the school.  

a really ROUGH map of my neighborhood

            Our desks had openings in the front.  They were wide enough to hold two plastic trays.  We called them tote trays.  It is where we put all of our school supplies.  We carried the trays each time we moved for math, reading, science, etc. according to whatever our learning level was.  If someone was absent, the desk could still hold my tray as well as that of the absent student.

            Before peanut allergies was a common thing I remember peas tasting like they’d been cooked in peanut butter.  I kid you not!  To this day I believe the peas at East Midvale Elementary School cafeteria were cooked in peanut butter or maybe a heavy peanut oil that tasted like peanut butter.  Now, I love peanut butter but I HATE peas and cooking them in peanut butter did not improve the taste.  I may hate peas more as a result.

            We had a cafeteria separate from the gym.  I don’t remember if there was a folding door that separated the cafeteria from the gym.  Maybe.  It would have made for more room for assemblies and programs.  The school offered many programs for parents to come and watch their students perform.  It felt like my parents had a lot more opportunities to watch programs than do the parents who have students in schools today.

            We had an old custodian by the name of Mr. Beckstead.  He wore green coveralls.  At least that is how I remember it.  Our lunch trays had compartments, I think two or three squares and a circle, and each compartment was for a different food item. When we were through eating lunch we had to take our lunch trays up to the garbage, but if the monitor was not satisfied with our eating habits, he/she would send us back to the lunch table to finish whatever we hadn’t touched.  Many of my peers would stuff unwanted food into the milk carton because the monitors never checked the cartons.

            When we were in the  5^th and 6^th grade we could help serve food.  In sixth grade, if a student’s grades were good enough and had the desire or were picked, they could work as a safety patrol monitor.  I remember students guiding other students across the street.  300 East is far too busy for a child to fulfill that duty.  It is done by an adult.  I don’t think as many schools offer safety patrol anymore.

Dash #498 Power Outages

            Share an experience that you have had with when the power went out

            For the most part power outages provide positive memories for me.  I know that might sound strange, but except for one time that I can recall, the experiences have been great.  I don’t even remember all of the details about the unpleasant power outage.  In my mind, it took place during the course of several hours, but in reality, it may have only been minutes.  I would guess that I was seven. 

            Mike’s parents were out of town, and my parents had agreed to watch him – I'm guessing for the weekend.  Mike and I were the same age and my brother Patrick was two years younger.  Mom said that she and dad had gone over to a neighbor’s house for an activity.  I don’t know if they were on a different powerline or if their power had gone out and mom and dad had returned.  Or if we were in bed when they returned.  I only remember the devastation.

            We had been left with a baby sitter.  I think we had already gone to bed when the thunderstorm started.  I think it must have woken us up as it was very loud.  We didn’t have power.  I remember following the sitter around as she had the source of light – I don’t know if she used a flashlight or candle.  Patrick cried the entire time.  Mike was very brave and I tried to be brave too that I might impress him – but the thunder was really loud and I did cry – but not as loud or as long as Patrick.  That is my most horrible memory.

            When the power went out every other time I can remember, mom and dad were home.  Dad would light candles or the lantern that we had for camping.  We would play games around the table.  Power outages meant spending time with family and feeling safe.

            One time when I was in high school I had gone to an early morning devotional.  The scheduled speaker was George Durrant.  I don’t recall if the power had gone out before he was introduced or if just after he approached the stand but I do think it went out before he started speaking.  I remember two specific things he said in reference to the power having gone out.  One was it was a shame because nobody would be able to see how handsome he was.  He also made a joke about needing some Israel-Lights.

            At school, many kids roamed the halls waiting for the announcement to let us go as there was no power.  I suppose the classrooms that had windows could have had discussions in the dark, but none of the inside classrooms had windows.  In fact, there was carpet on all of the walls.  Whose brilliant idea was that?

School was finally dismissed after a couple of hours. The power was restored just as soon as they said it.  Man, you should have seen how quickly the parking lot cleared.  Great day.  I think it was Valentine’s Day. Power outages meant missing school.

The power went off quite often when we were living in Kearns.  Most of the time it was annoying but nothing devastating.  The longest it had ever gone out was the Christmas when Jenna was four.  Now that was an awesome Christmas.  No electronics.  Jenna enjoyed shining the flashlight. 

Our power had returned a few hours before Bill’s and Kayla’s did.  They lived two or three streets over and we had invited them to come and stay the night so that they could keep warm.  They were packing up their belongings to head over when their power returned.  Sadly there were some living in Kearns who were without power for up to three weeks.  Power outages meant family support.

We held Church in the dark one week.  Just one meeting.  We met in the cultural hall as it provided the most source of light.  We all kept our coats on as it was cold.  I think there was only just one speaker. Power Outages provide concern.

We played games with our neighbor from across the street the first December we were living in Oregon.  We had a gas stove but she had only electricity to keep her warm. Roland had also gone out to get a generator which we shared with the neighbor’s next door.  We both used the power from the generator to keep our food cold in our fridges.  And Roland has used the generator to power up his computer for work. Power outages lead to new resources and inventions.

I started some assignments with the generator this week.  Roland got his computer running but was unable to retrieve the information he needed for work.  He made meals for us on a propane stove he had set up out back.   He boiled water and I did dishes. It was like camping.   We also played a lot of games.  Power outages lead to opportunities.  

Roland took great care of us.  He suffered the most as Jenna and I do better with cold weather than he does.  He was focused on us instead of the TV.  Jenna and I enjoyed his presence.

After four days and the fourth promise of power (as it had already turned on but back off again three times before), we were finally up and running.  Roland unhooked all the chords from the generator.  I helped him wind the chords and put them away.  He was very tired and certainly deserved the rest.  As soon as the TV went on Jenna said she wished the power would go out again.

Conspiracy Spending

            GAAP stands for generally accepted accounting principles .  At least once each year businesses who have stock investors have to go through an audit.  GAAP sets guidelines for business owners to keep accurate records so there is no question about how revenues are made, how money is spent and if there is a profit.  As there have been a number of business owners or other workers who have been found to be dishonest (such as these examples) GAAP has seemingly created so many conditions over the years that the audit can be rather time consuming.  This set of guidelines is set to protect the investor as well as the consumer.

           Stockholders can feel more secure with their investments as long as GAAP continues with guidelines, but paying taxes is not the same as investing stock.  Sometimes the government - or some aspects of it rather - can seem to be just as corrupt as some businesses who have failed due to dishonest records.  So who looks out for the taxpayers' money? GASB requires governments to use full-accrual accounting that tax payers may have the opportunity to understand about the governments capital investments and holding as the government should be watched just as much as the for profit business.

                GASB guidelines assist not only with the financial reporting but the fiscal policies as well. In a nutshell, GASB is to the government like GAAP is to the world of business.  Guidelines and regulations for GASB are there for the benefit of the taxpayers as GAAP is there for the benefit of the stockholder.  For the last three weeks I have had to write assignments about GASB.  In my last report I commented on three specific public roads and the amount spent on each project. According to my understanding, the government has to break down that cost to an exactness:  The amount spent on each crew member hired, not only the cost of building material itself, but the cost spent on supplies to insure the safety of the workers, cost of traffic lights (if applied), paint, concrete, tar, and so forth - even the costs of for the temporary method of traffic flow set up until the major road had been fixed.

                I have been wanting to rewatch "Capricorn I" for some time and finally took that opportunity yesterday morning.  I realize not everybody has been or will be a big fan of the movie, but I still enjoy it.  Elliot Gould plays Robert Caulfield, a reporter who has a friend who works at NASA.  When his friend disappears just after making a comment about the mission to mars, Caulfield starts to investigate.  Meanwhile,  Kelloway, played by Hal Holbrook, tells three astronauts (played by James Brolin, Sam Waterson, and O.J. Simpson) that there is a problem with a product and that the government has so much funding on the line they can't afford anything to go wrong.  Thus the three astronauts are driven to a warehouse where they are told to "perform" their mission on a set to save face basically.  When the astronauts realize that they the charade can't last forever, they realize they have to escape the warehouse as their only means of survival.  Their destination is for finding a reporter and camera crew. Made in 1977.  I thought it was a good movie.

                I am so grateful I had already turned in my final assignment as I know my mind would have taken me in a totally different direction and gotten myself in deeper than where I needed to be.  "Capricorn I" is NOT based on a true story . . . but then again (see here) . . . it gives you something to think about.  How far would the government or government sponsored programs be willing to go to keep the public from knowing the truth?  I thought about Deep Throat (here) and Watergate (here), agent orange (here) and wondered if people really disappear when trying to uncover scandals such as these.  Surely those are not going to show up on the accounting journals:

                10,000 to knock off Elliot Whitter,

another 8,00 to hire Alva Leacock to pretend she has been living in Whitter's apartment for a full year,      70 dollars for forged magazine subscriptions and other mail,

               6,000 to tap into Robert Caulfield's breaks,

another 2,000 to for hiring a team that find planted drugs in Caulfield's apartment. 

                2 mil for the helicopters sent to chase the three astronauts, on and on and on . . .

of course the funds would never get recorded in that manner. 

I am done with accounting!  Five or six classes left.  Should be smooth sailing from here on out.  I start two more classes tomorrow.

Side Note:           I don't remember the first time I saw "Capricorn I" but I have some fun 
                    memories                  - both which involve my brother Patrick.

                1)            I was with my mom and Patrick was sitting with a group of friends a few rows back.  The film stopped in the middle of the movie, and it was announced that it would be a few minutes before the projector would be running.  I made a bold move up to the front of the theatre and announced that it was Patrick's birthday and asked those in attendance to sing "Happy Birthday" to him.

                2)            Patrick recorded the movie from a local TV station.  Parts of the movie had been cut out to make room for the sponsor's ads - unfortunately Hal Holbrook's speech had been one of the scenes that had been cut.  Everytime Patrick had friends over who were not familiar with the movie, he would pause where the scene had been cut out and explain what was going on - kind of important to the movie.

                My favorite part of the movie is the end - to watch the expressions of those in attendance to honor the three astronauts - Brenda Vacarro and Hal Holbrook especially as they have the best expressions.  For the full episode of Capricorn 1 see here.

               

"You Ate My Road Kill" - another trigger

                I saw a boy with a "Fly Guy" book and smiled as I thought about Jenna's desire to read the book back in 2007 or 2008 (Tedd Arnold has written the "Fly Guy" series since 2005 here.

          When Jenna and I read books together, we would take turns doing the voices of different characters.  I think it was a bird that had made accusations against "fly guy" specifically saying, "You Ate My Road Kill".  Jenna thought that was the most hilarious thing.  She would have me say it for many years. 

          "Do the voice, mommy," she requested.

          I would screech in a high pitched voice, "You Ate My Road Kill". 

          She would laugh and laugh and request that I do it again.

          From that point I realized that if she was having a down day (which is rare) I could say to her (in the screechy voice, of course)  "You Ate My Road Kill" and it would change her mood.

 

          Funny how little things can trigger sweet memories.

          I read her this post and she laughed again.  That screechy voice still works.

Salt and Pepper Shakers

       Roland and I decided that we needed to replace our disappearing salt and pepper shakers for something that would be easier to fill and easier to spot.  I think the ones we ended up with will get lost in the shuffle as the ones we have currently, but they will be easier to fill.

       I was reminded of how many sets of salt and pepper shakers my brother and I had given to my mom over the years.  So many times her birthday would fall during our family vacation - or shortly thereafter.  Patrick and I would pick out gifts from the souvenir shop of wherever we happened to be.  I don't recall all the sets we gave her except for ones that were shaped like feet.  I don't recall ever having used them.  Mom said she did not need the constant reminder of how out of shape she felt.

Medication: Often Trading One Problem for Another

               It's been a year since Jeanie passed - not that I dwell on dates when people died.  Her mom does.  She's always posting the birthdays and death dates of those who have passed on.  Some days are better for her than others.  I think some days may be worse for her than they were for Jeanie.  I can't say for certain since most of the correspondence I've had with them has been through facebook.  I didn't even have that with Jeanie those times that she not only unfriended me but blocked me as well.  Apparently, it was the medication disrupting her otherwise rational mind.  It not only shattered her own emotions, but I had allowed myself to become upset as well.  I may never know the entire scheme of things; I did learn so much more about her at her funeral than I had ever known about her before.

          Biff had tried to explain it to Roland who either misunderstood Biff or perhaps Biff hadn't explained it well enough or really hadn't understood it himself.  By the time it got to me,  there were things lost in translation or miscommunications and until the day of her funeral, I did not know, wasn't aware, hadn't understood that Jeanie had been molested as a child. 

          One of her brothers had announced it over the pulpit.  It was shocking and seemed out of place for a speaker to make that the topic of discourse at a funeral - and yet I understood his emotions and the pain of the entire family.  Jeanie had been traumatized.  It left some thick emotional scars that still have not healed.  It was both disturbing and extraordinary at the same time - not the topic itself but for the love and concern that the speaker not only had for his sister but several generations of children and adults who have also been traumatized by one they should have been able to trust.  A person who should have been there to protect her and care for her.  It was sickening and so much of what he said had a profound ring.  I wondered if their other sister had been molested as well.

          Jenna had chosen to assist in the nursery, which I was truly grateful for as the subject was uncomfortable to me - I knew it would be for her as well.  And yet his talk was truly from the heart.  It was still disconcerting to learn what had happened and his plea to talk about it.  

          I knew Jeanie had been seeing a psychiatrist.  I knew it was for some kind of abuse - though I had thought it had been inflicted on by her ex-husband.  He was never even mentioned. I didn't realize it had stemmed all the way back to when she was five.  A time of innocence that she had attempted to live out again.  How difficult it must have been for the family when she would ask why her parents looked so old.  And where were her siblings?  And who was the stranger named Biff?  And where did the baby come from?  Of course, if she thought she was only five, she wasn't going to believe that Biff was her husband or that she had given birth to the baby girl.  Two of her sibs had already passed on before her and the other two were living in other states.

          We had a few family get-togethers when we would see Jeanie. Twice I remember her feeling flushed and excusing herself.  Two other times I remembered when she genuinely seemed happy. That is who she really was.  Happy.  Full of life.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to know that person.   She would cancel appointments with us.  Sometimes Biff would show up by himself.  He wasn't allowed to take Ally her first year.  Jeanie was quite possessive of Ally.  She would get verbally abusive towards Biff and her mom.  That was the person I saw.  The one that was sick.  The one that had become violent through medication.  I think when she realized who she had become, it wasn't worth taking the medication.  And so she chose to suffer as silently as she could and tried hard not to upset the rest of the family.

          I was included in that "rest of the family" and did not understand what demons she'd been dealing with. I was aware that there had been demon's in Biff's life but did not know to what extent.  I admire Biff so much for putting up with it.  He knew that the outbreaks were not her fault.  He stayed with her and blamed himself for not being there to catch her when she fell.  It wasn't his fault.  It wasn't medicine's fault.  We don't know if it was her death that caused the fall or if she died when she landed or on the way down.  The autopsy revealed that there were seven clots in her lung. 

          Some days her mom is accepting and knows that Jeanie is better off in another world where she doesn't have to take medicine to overcome emotional or physical pain.  She is free.  And she is with a brother and their sister.  But there is still a hole.  A void.  A longing.  An emptiness.

          Biff moved on with his life.  He moved in with Claire and they are raising Ally together, although Jeanie's mom would still like to be involved.  She remains in touch with Roland's sister who is a retired nurse and has been in contact and has had a better handle of the situation than either Roland or I.  Jeanie may not have unfriended or blocked Roland's sister.  They stayed in touch. 

          Our youngest son recently texted a family photo or all three boys and their families.  They are with Roland's sister and her husband and two youngest children.  Even after Biff's outbursts with behavior at times and seemingly lack of gratitude,  I was taken aback to hear that it was Jeanie's parents that were providing room and board for Roland's sister and family as my own boys were unable to make room for them.  (Randy lives in the largest space of the three - our old house in WV - which is teeny) I'm happy to hear that they are well liked and that bridges may be mended.  

        For family home evening the other night, we wrote letters to each of the boys.  I finished my thoughts yesterday and mailed the letters along with Jenna's most recent photo from school.  I am so happy to see all of my boys together again.  Jenna's been a little sad that she is not sharing their lives in person.  I guess we all are.  If only we could get all of them to come to Oregon. 

Picnics in the Freeway and Swimming Downtown

            After we had moved my mom into assisted living, we gutted out her house and set aside things for ourselves and the rest for a massive yard sale.  Corey had returned from Las Vegas to claime what was his and took a lot of what had once been hers.  He said he wanted all the photos.  There were many that I wanted to scan so that I could have digital copies, but I really didn't have the room for all of the hard photographs.  Corey and Joh had more room than any of my mother's other children.

            It was in September of this year that Corey and Joh came to Oregon for a brief visit.  Unfortunately, when they returned home to their house in Las Vegas, they learned that several parts of the house had received water damage due to a flood caused by a broken pipe.  They have since undergone renovation and have been forced to make decisions about weeding out certain belongings.  Through this trial, Corey has decided that he too will scan all of the photographs as hanging onto the physical photographs is no longer a priority.

            As he has been scanning, he has also been sharing various photos.  I don't know seeing them has stirred up a lot of memories for me, or if it's the subject of my classes introducing land development and building costs and so forth, or if it's a combination of both.  I certainly have done a huge amount of time traveling remembering how things were before evolution took over . . . 

            Someone had given my Uncle George the book "Salt Lake City, Then and Now"  

by Kirk Huffaker, David Watts (Photographer), Catherine Fegan-Kim (Photographer)

I want that book.  There are several pages that compare yesterdays landscape to today's

instagram.com/slctotheworld   04-18-2014

  salt lake traveler

some depict the same familiarity in both photos

Leah Hogsten | The Salt Lake Tribune A view of Main and South 

Temple, looking north, is seen on May 27, 2014, and again in 1950.

while others locations show different buildings

Trent Nelson | The Salt Lake Tribune Looking north east on

Main Street, just south of 100 South, in Salt Lake City, Tuesday

June 3, 2014 and the same view seen sometime in the 1860s.

I made these two pages for Jenna

before we moved to Oregon.  Of course, I do not remember all the landscape that existed before the evolution

https://www.deseretnews.com/article/865610856/The-ghosts-under-our

-feet-88-modernhistorical-photos-show-Salt-Lake-then-and-now.html

but I do have my own memories of certain things that perhaps others may share as well . . . or maybe not.

When I was younger, my mom had signed me up for swim lessons.  My brother, Patrick and I would carpool with the boys across the street.  I don't know how often our lessons were, but the drive was far.  Really far.  It boggles my mind to think how far the Deseret Gym was located from our house.

            The Deseret Gym is no longer there nor are any of the buildings on that entire block (see here) for all buildings were demolished and land preserved until it became the conference center

https://www.hydrotechusa.com/projects/lds-conference-center

notice the building takes up the entire block

    

            It would not be totally accurate for me to say that I used to take swim lessons at the conference center, but I did take swim lessons where the conference center is located.

            Yesterday's lunch triggered another memory about exploring and picnicking in a field that was dug up years later and has become a part of what is known as I215

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_80_in_Utah

https://www.fhwa.dot.gov/ipd/project_profiles/ut_i15_corridor.apxs

            Patrick and I had gone with his friend to see the "tree house" he said was there.  We had all packed a lunch and took our little jaunt into the fields just outside of the neighborhood.  The tree house was no more than a single board nailed to one, maybe two branches of a tree.  We all climbed up and sat on the board and ate our lunch.

            Our friend had brought a tuna fish sandwich that had been plastered in mustard.  Gross!  I don't know why I even remember that.

            We used to hold block parties at the dead-end section of mom's old neighborhood.  The entire neighborhood would gather together for food, games,  and of course, one another's company.  I don't know how often or if they still hold them.  The last neighborhood party I remember being in said location was the year that Roland and I were married.

            Well, that's it for this post.  Have to get back to class.  Take an assessment.  Turn in an assignment.  I'm not procrastinating really.  I'm taking a break after having spent so much time trying to figure the text myself.  The lecture is on Wednesdays with a disorganized but nice instructor that I've had before.  Fortunately, I have only one class this mod.