June 26, 1978--Bishop Folsum of the P.V.2 Ward has assigned

 each of us to spend 4 hours this month writing our life History.

    I was born on my Mother & Father's Wedding Anniversary, March

 6, 1908 in Ogden, Utah.  I was born at home, a little house on

 Blaine Avenue.  My brother, Briant & two sisters, Verna and

 Zella were born in Canada and I was the only child that was born

 in the U.S. and the only one that had a doctor--the others had a

 mid-wife assist them into this world.

    When I was ready to be born, the doctor was notified and he

 came over to the house.  Because he was very busy, he gave

 Mother some medicine to slow the pains & he went on to another

 patient.  When he came back, the pains had completely left & the

 doctor after examining Mother could see that I should come, so

 he tried to get things started again.  Apparently Mother responded

faster than he anticipated & I came too fast, causing

 Mother to hemorrage profusely, in fact I was used as a plug,

 this caused danger both to Mother & to me.  Dr. Richards worked

 as hard & fast as he could, eventually getting the bleeding to

 slow down and then I was worked on and I started to cry &

 breathe normally.  Mother was very sick for a long time, she

 told me her mother took care of her.  Grandma would put food in

 her mouth & tell her to chew and swallow, & Mother said she'd do

 as she was told--this was the thing that saved her life.  Of

 course Dad was beside himself & he told me that that night after

 I was born, he told the doctor that if either one of us died, it

 would be the last patient the doctor would ever have, he would

 sue him for everything he had.  The doctor realized he was in

 the wrong and did everything he could to make amends.  He stayed

 all night & all the next day, never leaving Mother's side till

 he was sure she was out of danger.  He did do all he could but

 Mother had many complications following my birth.  Phlebitus set

 in and she always suffered with varicose veins and sore legs.

  At first she was in a wheel chair, then crutches, finally she

 was able to walk with help.  And of course Mother wasn't able to

 have any more children.

    I had a sister, named Zella, that died when she was about

 eight months old from a telescoped bowel.  This was very hard on

 Mother and Dad.  So when I was born, I was really welcomed.  Our

 home was a very loving home and nothing was too good for us

 kids.  Dad sold candy on the road, but he was always home for

 Sundays and holidays--including circuses.  Dad taught us to love

 life and have fun.  Whenever he could take us, we'd go with him

 on his trips.  Summers were one long camping trip after another.

  Dad loved to fish & we'd pitch our tent by a lovely stream and

 after the bed was made, Dad would catch us some fish before we

 could get enough wood & start a fire with which to cook.

 Writing is very hard for me--here it is May 13 1979--Mother's

 Day.  Many things have happened since I wrote the first few

 pages, but since I told about my birth, I think I should write a

 few things I remember about my Mother.

    We were very close, perhaps because I was the youngest.  As a

 little girl, I remember Mother being very solicitous over me--

apparently I wasn't too healthy, having many sore throats, bad

 colds and pneumonia.  My sister Verna told me I was sick a lot

 when I was little.  I didn't realize this, but I do remember my

 little bed, a junior bed in Mother's room & Mother tucking me in

 and putting my lips together so I wouldn't breathe thru my

 mouth.

    Mother was a quiet person, I don't remember her ever shouting--she

ruled us by expecting us to do things because it was

 right.  She was a good housekeeper, but I wasn't conscious of

 her cleaning--she did things very quietly and seemingly effortlessly.

 There was never a mess in our home.  Mother always

 looked neat and clean, she had beautiful long black hair.  It

 was long enuf for her to sit on it.  I remember she wore her

 hair in a complicated "bun" at the back of her head.  She slept

 with her hair up and her hair never looked mussed in the morning,

but after she dressed, the first thing she did was comb her

 hair, taking all of the hair pins out, brushing it & then rolling

it up to be neat and beautiful.  I remember as a child

 watching her and wondering how she did it.

    Mother was a wonderful cook, everything always tasted so

 good, but especially it always looked so pretty,--but I never

 felt she worked very hard, altho if we had company she seemed

 quite concerned about what to serve.  She kept things completely

 under control.  I don't know how she did it.  Dad was such a one

 to invite people to dinner without any notice to Mother, but she

 always had a lovely table with good food.  We always had home

 made bread, there was a "yeast start" on the top of the stove.

  If she ever ran out I was sent to Aunt Nora's, or Mrs. McCauleys

 to get a new "start".  This would be kept "alive" by adding potato

water to the yeast.  Bread was mixed in the evening & would

 rise during the night, covered well on a chair by the big coal

 stove.  In the morning, Mother would punch the dough down and

 we'd have fried "scones" for breakfast & were they good!

    Mother carefully taught us to eat properly, how to hold our

 fork, how to cut our meat & the direction the spoon should go

 when eating "mush" or soup.  We were expected to try everything

 and not put more on our dish than we could eat.  If we wanted

 more food, we could ask for a second helping, but we weren't allowed

to pile food on our plate.  I remember Mother referring to

 a certain person as a "glutton" and I thought that was about as

 bad as one could be.

    Mother was a very proper person, I never remember her calling

 any of our neighbors by their first name.  It was always Mrs.

 McCawley, Mrs. Jensen, Mrs. Steele, Mrs. Dahlstrom, Mrs. Clara

 Brunt and Mrs. Fanny Brunt.  She had many friends and many phone

 calls just to visit.  I believe Mrs. Jensen called every day and

 we'd take turns having Sunday dinners together.  I remember

 after they moved from Idaho Falls to Provo, Mother was invited

 as a guest to the Alice Louise Reynolds Club & then asked if she

 would like to join it.  She refused because she told me it was

 disgusting how those grown women called each other by their

 first names and acted like a bunch of girls.  She felt they had

 all lost their dignity.  Mother worked in many of the Church organizations

but especially I remember her being Stake Relief Soc

 Secretary.  Our Stake in Idaho Falls was tremendous and the

 women would make their monthly visits by horse & buggy miles &

 miles.  The records were carefully watched from each word and

 when the annual report was due it was quite a time at our home.

 Every ward report was carefully gone over and neatly labeled &

 checked.  Then everything was compiled into a big report.

  Mother & Dad went over these reports before they were sent to

 the president.  I remember one time we received a very incomplete

report from a ward which read "Snowbound".  When Mother

 had to give a talk in Church, she worried like everything, feeling

so incompetent--but when she started to talk, she always

 sounded like a professional with complete control.

    Mother had quite a gift with words, she could write a whole

 letter in rhyme.  She could tell stories like they were poems.

  I remember her sitting with a little child singing poetry songs

 about the people passing by.  If I ever had a poem to write for

 school, I always knew mine would be about the best, if Mother

 helped me.  She could always think of rhyming words.  She had a

 real keen sense of humour.  She could see and hear such funny

 things that others wouldn't notice.  Many mornings we were awakened

with "Double Up, Little girl, the sun is in the sky".  This

 was from her reader, as a child, when spelling & two letters

 came together they were expected to call it "double"--like look

 would be l, double o-k.  So her reader said, Up, up, little girl

 and she called the two "ups", double.  She and Mrs. McCawley,

 our next door neighbor would laugh till tears came to their eyes

 over things that happened in Relief Society.

    Mother loved to dance and when Uncle Ira, Dad's youngest brother

would do the "cake walk", he always chose Mother for his partner.  Uncle

Ira was like a professional dancer, going to different towns and being paid

for his dancing.  I remember how great they danced!  Mother had to be

rather careful tho because with too much exertion, she'd have asthma.

   Mother was so patient with me, I was always bringing animals or birds

or snakes home.  I remember my cousin, Irene and I had a bird cemetary

down by the willows near the river bank.  We'd find birds that boys

would kill with their flippers, put them in small sample candy boxes on

cotton & bury them, covering the grave with moss and a pretty stone

at the head.  Of course we'd put flowers on the graves and visit them every

day.  One morning we went to our cemetary and the river had raised during

the night, washing all the graves away.  How we both wept.  Mother was so

understanding & we were each given a nickel to buy an ice cream cone when

the ice cream cart came past our home.  Such a joy that was when the man with

the ice cream came by driving his horse sitting in the little cart ringing a bell.

(A little picture of a horse and cart follows.)  We had the decision to make if we

wanted vanilla, chocolate or strawberry.

   One day Dad had been visiting an unoccupied farm.  In one of the buildings he

found a little bird that seemed nearly dead.  Dad found an old shoe box and

brought the bird home to me.  I remember Mother saying, "Ray, why would you

bring a dirty, lousy bird that's nearly dead home to Dorothy--you know it will

die & it'll just make her feel bad."  I was so thrilled with it, I got our bird cage

out of the basement, put bird seed in one of the dishes and water in the other dish

and a clean paper with sand on it on the bottom of the cage.  The bird was too weak

to stand and I was sure Mother was right.  I kept telling myself I'd do the best I

could for it and it might be happy for a while.  The next morning we were all so

surprized to be awakened with the bird singing--it was a song sparrow.  We kept

that bird all winter, Mother loved it as much as the rest of us.  One warm spring day,

the cage was hung on the front porch--the bird seemed to be so nervous, jumping from

one end of the cage to another.  Mother & Dad both thought it might be good to let the

bird go free.  With much sorrow, I opened the door of the cage and soon my bird flew

out.  It went straight across the street to some large Poplar Trees.  It seemed that I

heard that song from my bird all Summer long in those trees.  Mother had such a

sweet love for animals and taught us children to have the same concern and love that

she did.  I never remember a period in my life that we didn't have a beloved dog.  They

were our friends, our playmates and protectors.  We also always had birds, beautiful

singing canaries--it seemed that one of my Saturday jobs was cleaning the cage &

having the bird have its bath.  I think our birds brought a lot of happiness in our home.

One time Dad had been down in Nevada around the Indians.  He came home with a

Mocking Bird in a large willow-made-cage.  We had a special food for it, made up of

meat and pine nuts.  Such a beautiful song it had--when I was in High School & would

come home from a date, that bird would start to sing while I was telling Mother about

my night out.  I could whistle a tune & the bird would start mocking me & then branch

out into all its glorious tones.  How we loved that bird!  When we moved from Idaho

Falls to Provo, the bird was piled on things in the back seat of our big 7 passenger

Hudson car.  The bird loved traveling and sang off and on all the way.  The car was

all open and one would think the wind would take his breath away, but not so--he just

kept singing!  We lived in Provo in a basement apartment at Uncle Roys home while our

home was being built.  None of us was very happy in this apartment, including the bird,

he sang less and less and then not at all.  We felt everything would be better as soon as

we could move.  Then one evening the bird started to sing--the most heavenly we'd ever

heard.  We came so happy to hear him & we knew he was now better--he even ate

better.  But the next morning he was laying on the bottom of his cage--dead.  Mother

& I were very sad, but as Mother said, " didn't we have a wonderful time and experience

with him, we'll never forget the beauty he brought into our lives."

   It wasn't easy for any of us making the move to Provo.  But it was exciting having a

new home and new furniture.  Mother had quite a knack in making things look homey

(Dad's business -Fire Insurance & making loans-was in Provo and surrounding towns.)

and comfortable.  We were close to Bri & Anna, Bri was teaching in the Botany dep't

at B.Y.U.  while Dr. Cottam was on leave of absence.