Jack always slept on my stomach when he was a baby. And he would sleep soundly. I remember one night after I was recovering from the chemo the first time. It was getting late, and we were all watching TV. Jack leaned up and looked at me. He was ready for me to tell him a story and go to sleep, something that was not easy as he became older and decided he liked watching television too. I would tell Jack stories, and we would listen for the train to whistle in the distance every night.
This is when Anna was small and I could still give her raspberries without her squirming and pushing her clenched fists into my throat. On our last trip to California, Ann and Jack and I picked up Lydia, Tommy and Anna at LAX. They stepped from the elevator, and both Anna and Tommy ran to us.
Anna looked up at me. "Can I pick you up and hold you?" She studied me for a few long moments.
"O.K." She grinned at me as I reached down and picked her up into my arms. She looked at me.
"Can Pop Pop give Anna kisses?" She thought about this for a long time before answering me. "Yeahhhhhhhh," she said.
My memory of Tommy was the last time Lydia and the kids stayed with us when they lived in California. Lydia flew to Salt Lake City, and I picked them up at the luggage claim. As soon as Tommy saw me, he raced to me and jumped into my arms.
And I will always remember spoiling my grandsons with Star Wars toys. Darth Tommy appears in the picture above. On that visit we bought the boys Darth Vader helmets that let them speak with the voice changer. It was fun. I still had not bought Tommy a new light saber, so the soup spoon worked well with the potential of using the force to make nutricous lunch.
And most importantly, my memories of Tommy are having my boys on both sides of me in my easy chair, while we rattle the house with Surround Sound while listening to one of the Star Wars films or Polar Express. Grandma always cussed me when the house shook.
There are many memories of the boys at this age playing in the cabinets. We made sure the cabinets were safe, and the boys enjoyed jumping out and scaring us.
And I could never forget the memories of my Annie and kids. The picture above shows our first house in Malad, the one north of Pioneer Park. Just before we sold the house, Ann and I planted strawberries in the large area by the new fireplace we had installed.
Here is Cles, all ready to leave for the ranch with me and grandpa. That was at a time when dad had the old green and white Ford.
I only remember this picture faintly, but I remember how cute Lydia looked at that age. We never wore orange on Lydia, so this picture is particularly fun.
And here is Kristin's toe picture. I have looked for this for years, and I was not able to find it. This was my favorite picture taken by the school photographer.
And here is my favorite car, my '29 Model A pickup. I wish I could drive it tomorrow, and I wish I could still fit behind the steering wheel. When I was young, I used to shut of the valve supplying gas to the engine. It was out of site in front of the passenger's side of the seat under the dash.
It only worked once while taking a girl for a ride. That's the problem with small towns. Girls talk anyway, but in small towns it is much worse. On a second try, the girl was looking up under the dash for the valve.
The passenger door on my truck was a bit bad. I would have three friends sitting next to me, and we would put the fourth one--the one we didn't like--against the door. I would take a curve on a corner fast, always a part of the road with a large patch of gravel or a vacant lot full of grass and rocks. At the worst part of the turn, we would nudge against the victim. The door would spring open, and we would laugh as he would run five or six stips with waving arms, until he tripped, fell and disappeared in a little cloud of dust. If we really disliked him, we would drive away and leave him on foot.
I hope I never did that to my cousin Randy. I loved him like a brother. I treated him like a brother, but then again, the way I sometimes teased and tormented family members, maybe I dad. But I hope I didn't.
Malad was an interesting town. Mean people with a bizarre sense of humor. The Germans call it Schadenfreude, laughter at someone's expense.
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