Homes of My Ancestors Part Two

     Last week I posted pictures of my Cook line and so this week I want to spotlight my Proctor line.  Once again I want to reiterate just how much these wonderful people have done for me and all of their posterity.  I love them all so very much and am so grateful for the sacrifices they made in my behalf.  I am who I am because of them.  It will be awesome to someday meet them again and express my love and appreciation to them.  Thanks to all my ancestors.

George Kidd and Annie (Ludlow) Proctor

These are the parents that raised my Mother, Ruth Elizabeth.

George Kidd and Annie Proctor

A view of the street Mother lived on.  She is running away with Aunt Rozella's lollipop.

The Proctor Family in Malta, Montana 1926

Grandma Proctor, Ethel, (Max or Woody) Grandpa Proctor

Inez, my Mother Ruth, Rozella

Grandpa Proctor, Mother, Grandma Proctor, Rozella, Ethel and Inez

Home in Tooele, Utah

Grandpa and Grandma instead home in Tooele, Utah on their 50th Wedding Anniversay

Franklin DH, George Kidd Jr and George Kidd Sr Proctor in Eureka, Juab, Utah

Uncle John and Aunt Effie Williams with Annie Caroline Proctor

at the Williams homestead in Lake Shore, Utah.

Mom Share Your Life with Me - December 27

Question:  Do you remember celebrating any special wedding anniversaries of your parents or grandparents?

Answer: Lois, and I went to Tooele, Utah, on a bus from Rigby, Idaho to help celebrate the parents who raised me, George and Annie Proctor-Dad and Mom- 50th wedding anniversary at their home in Tooele, Utah.

Front Row:  Barry Formo, Lois Cook, Bruce Proctor, Ted Whitehouse, Danalyn Whitehouse, Rozella Proctor, LeAnne Formo, Judy Proctor, Sue Proctor

Middle Row:  Patricia Proctor, Dorothy Proctor, George K. Proctor, Annie L. Proctor, Shirley Fay Brough holding Dennie Brough, Jack Brough, Shelby Formo, Inez Whitehouse, Jennie S. Proctor, Elwood Proctor.

Back Row:  Max K. Proctor, Donald K. Proctor, Ethel P. Formo, Walter Formo, Ruth P Cook, Dan Whitehouse.

Ethel Proctor-Life Story Part Six

My Book of Memories

by Ethel P. Formo

1910-1978

     We were all getting antsy for spring when we had a wonderful surprise.  Dad’s youngest brother, Niva Bodez came home from World War I.  We were all so thrilled to see a soldier in his full uniform; we could hardly wait to see him.  What we didn’t know was that he was bringing a new bride with him. What a thrill to see him lift her out of the “Lizzy” and pack her bodily over the sty on the fence and into the house before setting her down.  Oh what dreams that gave us young uns.  What a hero, what a man.  Aunt Shortie (Charolette Gustaveson) was  a beautiful lady and so happy and full of laughter.  We all loved her right away.

     During the spring Dad bought a Ford car.  It was before they had enclosed sedans as today.  One day Dad insisted Mom learn to drive.  She did not want to but he insisted.  They went for a ride down by the old place where we had lived.  Mom drove back.  She was doing just beautifully—until she went to turn into the gate.  The dog ran out to greet them, she got panicky and crashed into the gate, ripping it off the hinges.  She muct have hit the accelerator instead of the brakes for she ended up way out by the barn.  Never again did I see her behind the wheel of the car.  She would hitch up one of the horses and take the surrey.  Dad did not insist anymore.

Max, Ruth, Ethel and Rozella Proctor

     Dad sold the farm and since the people were anxious to get onto it before planting time, we had to move.  Some people told us we could move into their farmhouse until we could find something more suitable.  I don’t remember very much about that place except it had lots and lots of trees around it.  There was a long lane from the main road to the house lined with trees where we used to herd the cows and play while doing it.

     We lived much closer to the Buchanans with whom we became dear long lasting friends.  They had a beautiful big farm and we spent lots of time exchanging work, fun, and meals.

     One day when we came home from church our big dog refused to let any of us out of the car.  He was all white and frothy around the mouth and snarled every time anyone attempted to get down.  He never seemed to want to attack any of us but Dad gave us strict orders not to move just in case.  He said the dog was mad or had been poisoned.  He thought it was rabid.

     We had a very long screened in porch.  Dad drove up very close to the door then gave a sudden leap through the door and slammed it shut after him.  While he attracted the dog’s attention through the screen, Mom drove the surrey around the house to the other door and we all made it safely into the house.   Dad came in and put on a heavy coat, some hip boots and leather gauntlet gloves which all farmers seemed to have and went back out onto the porch.  He had a rope with a loop in it and as he opened the porch door to let the dog in, he quickly slipped it over the dog’s head and pulled hard.  The dog collapsed on the floor.  Dad worked fast and soon had the dog’s legs tied together and fastened them to the legs of a big table we had out there.  I guess he had told Mom to have some eggs and grease ready, for as soon as he had the dog secured he eased upon the neck rope and called to her to bring the stuff out “but be careful not to get too close.”  Dad started pouring the raw eggs and grease into the dog’s throat.  We watched through the window and about up-swallowed our toe nails just as the dog seemed too weak to do anything but just lay there with a groan and a heave every so often.  It was terrifying to watch, but also fascinating.  Many many years later the lesson proved very helpful.  The door was locked leading onto the porch from within the house as well as the screen.  We were not allowed on that side of the house for over a week.  By that time the dog seemed well on the road to recovery but Dad was squeamish about it so he had it taken to the vet to have it checked out then put to sleep.  Why hadn’t he killed it to begin with?  Most people did not have guns in those days and besides it had to be kept alive until it could be check out for rabies.

     We never knew whether it had bitten something else or someone but thank God it evidently had not!  While we lived on this farm, it was the one and only time I ever saw Dad use physical force on any of his offspring.  Elwood had been given a job to do but instead of doing it he just ignored it.  Dad was a man of slow temper.  After about three times of telling Elwood to get the job done, he decided a bit of force was necessary.  Elwood saw him coming and made a dash for the fence.  Dad caught up just as Elwood was crawling under.  Up came his foot and he booted Elwood in the behind hard enough to send him sprawling, ripping the shirt off his back as it caught on the fence.  That gave Dad chance for another boot.  Elwood could hardly walk for several days but never again do I remember him shirking a job he was told to do.  Elwood had left home at the age of 14 to go out into the world to hunt a job.  Mom was broken hearted and cried so very much.

Ethel Proctor-Life Story Part Three

My Book of Memories

by Ethel P. Formo

1910-1978

     During the summer months, Uncle Will’s bees gave us quite a lot of trouble.  At first we were both afraid and fascinated by them.  Uncle Will would put on a heavy jacket and a very wide brimmed hat.  Then he would drape himself with soft white netting.  The net would extend out and down over the brim of the hat and under his chin where he would close it by pulling a draw string.  That way he could see what he was doing and avoid being stung about the face and head.  A high collar on the jacket protected his neck.  He wore fine fitting leather gaunt-like gloves that reached above the elbows and rubber boots about his knees and feet.

     I often wondered how he protected himself from his belt to his knees. I never found out.  He would go out and gather the honey combs and place them in a big vat to drain in a special building built just for that purpose.  He would replace the frames in the hives while the bees hummed and dived in protest in huge swarms, but it never seemed to bother him.  I guess he had become immune to their stings----only he never seemed to get stung.  One day Uncle Will wasn’t feeling very good and the bees had to be taken care of so Dad volunteered.  Aunt Amelia saw to it that he was dressed like Uncle Will but he got stung twice.  Was he ever sick!  We nearly lost him.  Never again would Uncle Will let Dad near the honey house.  And Dad would always go out front and up the road to their house instead of taking the short cut.  Of course the bees would fly many miles hunting for flower nectar to make their honey, but the chances of being stung out in a barren road were much less.  Rozella and Max and I were scared stiff when the stings made Dad so sick but small minds soon grow brave again.  Before long we were slipping through the fence again at the end of the gardens and our short legs would sail us past the bee hives and over to play with Lee and Rebe.  I swear those two never got stung---so why should we?  The oftener we tried it the braver we got.  Then one day---Disaster  We had stopped to pick some raspberries and Max’s little red nose was the target.  He let out a scream that brought everyone running.  Of course the first thing to do was try to get the stinger out.  No way would he hold still for that, so on went the traditional mud pack.  The only thing that will ease the burning sensation and draw out the stinger.  He was a sorry looking sight.  Thank goodness he was not as allergic as Dad but his nose swelled up so big it made both eyes turn black.  What a grotesque figure for about ten days.  I don’t think Max ever traveled that path again as long as we lived there. 

     Sometimes Uncle Will would let us help in the honey house.  We had to press the honey out of the wax combs into various sized hot buckets to be sealed immediately.  Of course we were only allowed in there if we had scrubbed our hands and faces and tied a white towel around our heads.  Then Uncle Will would tie a huge white apron around our neck that would reach to the floor.  It was such a thrill to see that pure clear sweet honey we could eat.  We really could anyway, but it always tasted best right from the honey house.  And ohh---to chew that sweet bee’s wax with honey still in it was a delight beyond words.

     Eventually we became accustomed to the bees and I think when that intense fear of the bees left us they seemed to quiet down.  At any rate we learned to catch them inside the hollyhock blossom and you could expect a sharp sting.  Of course, we would grab for the mud when that happened and never, never would we complain.  We wouldn’t dare.

     We loved to scatter the straw around to pile it up to make rooms for a play house.  We were always being warned of the danger of the straw stack collapsing in on us and being smothered to death.  But the warning was soon forgotten. With Mom working out in the fields so much, I’m sure she and Dad prayed constantly for our welfare while they were away.  Their prayers just had to be answered for we seemed to get away with it every day.

     Fall weather came.  Oh what a busy time.  The pumpkins and squash had to be picked and stored in the straw stack.  The carrots and cabbage had to be dug then buried in a pit Dad had dug.  The outside cabbage leaves had to be wrapped around the inner head to keep it crisp and clean.  No way could one be buried if the outer leaves had come loose.  Then they were turned upside down so the roots were above the ground thus giving  something to hold and pull up on.  The carrots were topped and piled up and covered with straw.  Oh—how fresh and crisp they kept all winter long.

      It was time to cut and stack the hay.  There were no bales in those days.  It had to be pile high in stacks.  The derrick forks had to be pulled up by hooking one end over the top of a very tall frame that could be moved from stack to stack area.  While Elwood and Dad leveled off the hay as it was pulled to the top and dumped, we kids had to ride the horses forward to raise the loaded fork, then be able to back them up to lower the empty fork.  We had two beautiful big mares named Maude and Pet.  They had a reputation all over the country.  They were big and willing and together could pull a load that even questioned the ability of a couple of elephants.  They were very much in demand to help people get unstuck in the fields.  Sometimes Dad wondered if he had two horses of his own or if he should quit farming and just hire out his team.

     Max would straddle Pet and I would handle Maude.  Our legs stuck straight out from their backs they were so wide.  We loved to ride and didn’t mind the long hours it took to make a hay stack.  Pet and Maude seemed to know us and were very gentle and careful.  One day Max fell off and old Pet just stood there never making a move, until he had been rescued but she was a quiver all over and her eyes were big and frightened.

     It was my first year at school and I loved it.  But it had its drawbacks.  One day we were coming through the fields.  There were about ten of us.  My sister Rosella was the tom-boy of the family.  No one had better dare her to do anything or it would get done.  She loved to climb trees and rob the bird nests.  Or she would climb up in the rafters of the barn hunting for bats.  All the boys liked her.  If I was ever choosing up sides for a game she was always the first one chosen.  But even at that age not everything is acceptable.

      One day we were coming home from school, Rozella and Serge Marshall, a neighbor boy seemed to think Rozella was an angel on legs, were walking ahead of us.  All of a sudden Serge put his arm around her neck and we heard screech.  She had swung her lunch bucket and hit him just above the eye then took off on a run.  Serge wouldn’t tell us what happened but he scurried home.  We were finishing supper, when here comes Mrs. Marshall and Serge.  He was dragging back but Mrs. Marshall was mad.  It had taken her until then to find out what had happened.  He kept saying it was his fault and not to blame Rozella.  She had come over to find out what Rozella had to do with Serge having a whale of a black eye and a lump the size of a chicken egg just above that eye.

Rozella

     Rozella said, “I hit him with my lunch bucket.  He don’t need to think he can kiss me!!”  Her eyes were blazing.  Mrs. Marshall was very apologetic and after accepting a piece of cake and a cup of tea, headed home but left Serge to play for awhile.  We were all playing again as though nothing had happened.  Isn’t it great kids don’t seem to hold grudges once they’ve made their point?

    One day we were playing out by the haystack.  My brother Elwood, my cousin Eugene Hone and a neighbor friend their own age had been whispering together quite a while teasing us little ones beyond words.  Finally they took me aside and asked me to go in and tell Mom that Rozella had fallen off the haystack and was dead.  No way would I go for that.  Finally they started bribing me with pretty robin and sparrow eggs.  They added a few marbles, still my answer was no.  Gene and Owen left but were soon back.  They added a couple of pencils---one had not even been used---a very tiny cupie doll, beads, two pennies and bright piece of cloth to make a dress or blanket for my rag doll.  There was a whole shoebox full of goodies!  I couldn’t resist such treasures.  I went slowly up to the door and hesitated.  They urged me on.  I went in.  Mom was cooking supper.  She asked where the others were and asked me to call them to eat.

     “I can’t,” says I.  “Rozella fell off the haystack and is dead.”

     Mom dropped the spoon, grabbed hold of a chair and almost fell.  That scared me and I started to cry as she went running out the door.  I could hear the other laughing---then all was silent.  Mom came back into the house and her face was white.  She never said a word, just looked at me. I buried my head and sobbed.  She gathered me in her arms and stroked my head.  “Why, oh why don’t she spank me?” I thought.  But I think what she was doing would hurt me more than any spanking she could give me.  I’m sure she was right for it haunted me all my life that I could have been so cruel to such a wonderful person.  A spanking can be so easily forgotten.  I think we accept it as payment for a misdemeanor.  I felt like crying every time I looked at either Mom or Dad for a long time.  I’m sure she must have told Dad all about it but would not let him spank me either.

George Kidd and Annie Ludlow Proctor

     We lived about 2 ½ miles from school if we cut through the fields.  It was 5 miles around by the road.  Since there were no buses and everyone was so busy in the fields, we had to walk to school.  But we didn’t mind.  We’d often rob the chicken coup on the way out and trade the fresh eggs in at the little country store near school for a pencil or a bit of candy, or whatever the “store man” felt like giving us.  I was afraid to take more than two at a time.  So I usually ended up with an all-day sucker or a pencil.

     But it was more fun just exchanging parts of our lunches with the other kids.  Mom would let us mix cocoa with thick cream to make a thick paste and spread it on our good home backed bread.  We were very popular lunch exchangers. In fact Mom finally had to put a stop to it because we were making more sandwiches than she knew we should eat.  We got pieces of chicken, cake, cookies, other kinds of sandwiches or whatever—even for our good cocoa sandwiches.

Ethel Proctor-Life Story Part Two

My Book of Memories

by Ethel P. Formo

1910-1978

     We had driven in the surrey, some seven or eight miles to Sunday School.  Of course we stayed to Sacrament meeting too.  Since it was a farming community and the farms were quite far apart, everyone brought something to eat between Sunday School and meeting.  It was served pot luck style in the Relief Society Room.  Of course, the Relief Society room was the biggest of the school rooms where there were tables and benches instead of regular school desks.  Since the church served as a school house or the school house was our church, I never knew just what place we were in.  There were swings made of heavy ropes with a board at the bottom to sit on out in the yard. 

     We all had to take turns and sometimes we never did get a turn. But there were other things to do and always someone to gather us all together to sing or recite poetry or whatever anyone could do.  We also had to take turns at the toilets.  They were set back in the farthest corners of the play ground.  To the west was the ladies because it was the closet to the door.  When a little one had to go it was usually a race for the Moms to get there on time.  So, of course, the one on the other side of the grounds was for the gents.  Of course to a four year old it was kind of mystifying to hear an older girl say, “Why can’t we go in the other one.  Tommy’s mom takes him in ours, and he’s a boy.”  Of course our little legs kept dancing while waiting our turn.  Sometimes we’d hear a voice from inside say, “Go around to the back if nobody’s looking.  Just don’t wet your pants or you’ll get whopped.”  Well, since someone said we could, it must be all right.

     On the way home from church that day I got awfully sick to my stomach.  I up-swallowed so many times I couldn’t bring anything more up.  Mom held me all day and all night feeding me sips of warm tea.  In the morning they asked Dr. Davis to come out.  He said Mom was as a good nurse and besides some nasty medicine, he gave her to give to me he said I couldn’t have anything but soda crackers and tea until I felt real good.  He said I had stomach trouble, whatever that meant.  It was okay at first but soon those crackers just didn’t taste good anymore.  I wanted some butter on them.  The doctor said I could not have any butter so I refused to eat.  Just drank my tea and got so very thin.  Finally the doctor said I could have a little jelly but still no butter on the crackers.  Soon my appetite picked up and I got well enough to eat with the rest of the family.

     While we lived on this farm we had some neighbors about a quarter of a mile away.  They had a beautiful white house with six steps leading up to a big wooden porch-awning on it.  Mrs. Jensen was quite a tall stiff-backed type of person that scared most people.  She was very unfriendly and critical of everyone. 

     Whenever Mom baked an extra big batch of cookies or bread or something else nice she would send us down to Mrs. Whitney’s with some and at first also the Jensen’s.  She was never got thanked for it from the Jensens.  In fact, the third or fourth time Rozella and I took a pan of hot rolls over for their supper, (there was Mr. and Mrs. Jensen, and their son and daughter), Mrs. Jensen met us at the door and sent us away.  She said there was “no one sick so please stop bringing food over there.”  Our hearts were broken and we were in tears when we got home.  Mom never said a word but the tears rolled.  We had often had company and men would often refer to someone as “High Pockets.”  It never meant anything to me until years later when I understood who they had been talking about,--Mrs. Jensen, no less.

     The daughter (I can’t recall her first name so I’ll call her Dora) was two years older than Rozella and they got along pretty good whenever they were allowed to play together but I was the little snip and couldn’t play with them without getting a slap or something from Dora.  Then Rozella would take my part and fight her back.  I would always cry, not because I had been hurt, but because Rozella had.  She was such a dear sister.  The only time I ever saw Dora actually cry was the day we moved up to our new home.

     Dad had bought a farm next to Uncle Will’s and Aunt Amelia’s [Hone].  Aunt Amelia was an older sister of my mothers.  They lived in a big yellow brick house with lots of lawns and trees all around it.  Aunt Amelia was a hard worker and her place was covered with flowers.  Tall spindly golden rod in the corners and along the fence.  Blue and purple morning glories beneath the golden rod.  Hollyhocks of every color and so tall they seemed to reach the sky.  There were cosmos, sweet Williams, buttercups, marigolds and sweet alyssums.  Of course Uncle Will didn’t mind, for he raised bees and sold honey in the fall.  He was famous for his clear pure sweet honey.  To the west of their house was their raspberry patch.  Both red and black berries the size of walnuts almost.    Then her vegetable garden separated only by a fence from where Mom’s garden would be.  They both had big gardens so they would have plenty of bottled vegetables for their families to eat during the winter months.

Amelia Ludlow

     A friend, John Gollaher, had come from Utah to find work and since he was a carpenter, Dad had let him build our house.  It was simple but very compact and pretty.  We had three bedrooms, a front room and a big roomy kitchen.  A nice big porch spanned more than half the front of the house with four steps leading up to it.  It was painted a beautiful shiny white with green trim.  I was so proud to live there.

     But Mom and Dad had worked so hard getting everything moved from Mr. Aurbaugh’s except the last essential things.  Dad had the wagon loaded and we had said our goodbye to Mr. Aurbaugh.  Uncle Will would drive the team and wagon while Dad would bring the surrey with the family in it.  As we turned out of the gate and started down the road, it seemed like we were leaving everything behind.  I was frantic.  Dad had let us kids sit in the back and as the team stepped up its pace, I jumped.  I wasn’t quite five yet and it was a long drop but I couldn’t leave all those wonderful times behind!  I hit the soft dirt at the side of the road and rolled.  It didn’t hurt much and I was too scared to scream so I just laid there.  I knew if something wasn’t hurt I’d get a scolding.  Mom and Dad never spanked us.  All it took was a look or a word, and I’d rather have a beating any day.  I supposed, anyway, I’d never remembered getting a spanking except on my birthday to know what one was like.  But that sad look on Mom’s face could break my heart worse than anyone knows.  No spanking could have hurt as bad as how I had hurt my Mom.  I don’t remember even reaching the new house until next morning.  Nothing seemed broken nor even hurt so I woke up to a brand new experience.  I can’t even remember Mom nor Dad scolding me.  Just a glad happy smile that I wasn’t hurt.  Maybe they didn’t know I had jumped but instead thought I had fallen out when the horses stepped up their pace.

     My brother, Max who was twenty-two months younger than I, was getting big enough so we could have great fun together.  It was great fun chasing the chickens around the yard until Dad put a stop to that.  He said we scared the hens so bad they couldn’t lay their eggs.  We had a big red rooster though, that would take our prodding just so long, then he would turn on us. Sometimes it was hard to make Mom and Dad believe it was the rooster who was responsible for the long red scratches on our arms, legs and once in a while on our faces. 

     Mom was Dad’s only help.  She would see that we were fed and dressed then Elwood (Woody, we called him) would have to tend us and herd the cows down the lane while Mom helped Dad with the plowing and seeding.  Unbeknownst to Mom, Elwood taught Rozella and me how to build the fire and start the meals.  I think he was about five years older than Rozella and we adored our big brother.  Of course, we often had small burns but we didn’t dare tell Mom how we got them.  Woody often got scolded for not keeping us away from the hot stove.

Elwood (Woody) Proctor

     I was nearing six years old and had my chores appointed for me.  To keep us out of mischief we had to weed the garden everyday---each of us had so many rows to do.  Then we had to pump the well and bring fresh water into the house in time for supper.  While Mom got supper and Dad put the horses up for the night and milked the cows we had to pack wood and kindling in.  Elwood had to bring in the coal for it was too heavy for us to pack.  When supper was over, we had to take turns helping with the dishes.  We were tired and ready for early bed.  Either Mom or Dad would come tuck us into bed, making sure we said our prayers.  Then there would be a lullaby or two to put us to sleep.  

     One day, Elwood had had trouble bringing the cows home so Rozella and I peeled the potatoes and carrots while Max packed in some kindling.  I can’t remember how it happened but just before Mom got in, I had burned my hand badly, and was in tears. We had tried to build the fire and I had gotten that hot lifter over the back of my hand.  I packed that scar for forty years or more.  We were given orders never to touch the stove again unless a grownup was with us.  Rozella loved to try to cook and I felt good if I could help----if she just didn’t make me help---so we would go ahead despite the orders and pretend to Mom and Dad that Elwood had done it.  Several times our meal was too small and Mom would have to find something to fill in.  There were times we cooked way too much but no matter what, we always had to clean our plates.  Both Mom and Dad had been taught that food was precious and would often comment, “It’s better to bust belly than waste food.”  Yet none of us was ever over weight until we were married and had families of our own.  

To be continued next week

Autobiography of Rozella Proctor-Part Three

Rozella Proctor

1 June 1909-12 December 1955

Chapter Four

In the Hospital

    When I was on a bed, Papa called a doctor.  The doctor examined me, but could hardly tell what the trouble was.  He came twice that day, then said my back was hurt, and I would have to be operated on.  But he said he would not perform the operation, and if he was papa he would take me to a back specialist.

     All day Monday Mama and my Aunt sewed getting me ready to go to the hospital at Salt Lake City, Utah.

Max, Ruth, Ethel and Rozella

     That night I left.  I had to be taken on a stretcher, so Daddy and the doctor took me in the baggage car.  At eight o’clock on Tuesday we were in Salt Lake City, where an ambulance was waiting to take me to the hospital. 

Rozella and Ruth

     Right after I got there the specialist examined me.  I could not feel a thing from my waist down.  They took an x-ray and found there were two clots of blood on the spinal cord.

Rozella in Yellowstone Park

     A little after one o’clock I was given some ether, and I never knew anymore till I felt the doctor pushing something in my arm that hurt.  Then he asked me if it hurt.  Later I found out they had injected something in my arm to keep me alive.

Grandpa and Grandma Proctor, Ethel, Inez, Rozella and Ruth in Wapello, Idaho

     I was in a private room for about two weeks.  The nurses were very good to me.  The doctors (I had five) were too, although I did not think at the time, the one that took the stitches out of my back was.

     After two weeks, I was moved to a ward and there I had a good time also.

Home in Wapello, Idaho

     Papa just stayed a week then went back, and Mama came.  On the Fourth of July all my folks came down, and although I still had to lie flat on my back I surely had a good time.  Every body was very good to me.

     I was in the hospital a little over two months, although I hated to leave all my new friends, I was very glad to get home.  

Ruth, Ethel, Inez and Rozella

Chapter Five

Later Years

     I did not send my lessons into the teacher that year.  The next year we moved to Bancroft, Idaho, and I sent my lessons in.  Just before school let out we had to move to Blackfoot again.  The teacher said to go to the next grade.  The next year I only sent my lessons in for half a year.  I thought it would be easier for Ethel and also myself if I waited till Ethel caught up with me then we would both have the same teacher.

Max, Rozella, and Ethel

     I have sent my lessons in to the teacher ever since then.  We lived in Aberdeen the last two years, and last Year I graduated from eighth grade.  Ethel couldn’t go to school the last day to get our diplomas as we were leaving Aberdeen, to be on our way to Montana.  So Mrs. Arms, our teacher, said she would send them to us, and sure enough, when we stopped in front of the Fifth Avenue Hotel the day we arrived in Malta, Montana, Daddy went in, and a few minutes came out and handed our diplomas to us.

In back: Grandma, Ethel,

Front:  Inez, Ruth, Rozella, Max and Grandpa

Home in Malta

     On September the eighth 1925 school started in Malta.  I did not start sending my lessons in for about two weeks.  I was rather uncertain whether to start high school or not I didn’t think I could on account of having three teachers, but a last I decided I had better learn while I had a chance.  The school was short on books for awhile, but now I have all of the books except for Algebra, but I am getting along pretty well.

Front: Rozella, Max, Ethel

Back: Inez and Ruth

     I don’t think the schools in Malta are nearly so good as they are in Idaho and Utah, and I surely wish I was back in Idaho.

Rozella

     I have always wanted to be a stenographer, but I could not take typewriting here, and I am rather disappointed.  

Rozella and Max

Rozella, Grandma and Grandpa and Dorothy

Rozella with Grandpa and Grandma

     I am sorry to say that this is all the Aunt Rozella wrote in her Life Story Booklet.  I wish that she would have included more about her life.  She truly was a remarkable lady with a remarkable attitude.  It will be great to meet her some day and see her walk, run and dance.  We miss you, Aunt Rozella but will see you again some day.