Mixed Feelings

Today I was going to put together a post that had photos of me from when I was a pup up to recent days.

That was my plan, it being my birthday today.

But this morning when I went out to the flagpole and lowered the flag to half staff, I have not thought about much else, besides the day the towers fell.

Among the many who died, 343 of my brothers were killed at the World Trade Center.

It just makes my heart heavy remembering the awful sights and sounds of that day.

No funny photo post today, it's a day to remember other things.

Summer of the Potato Bugs

A couple of years ago we reclaimed the ground under the wood pile in the backyard, and started planting a garden. It's a small 30 x 40 patch of ground that in my pre-teenage years was the location of our raspberry patch. We spent several weeks removing the old wood, we cut down some trees, and now we have a pretty nice garden spot.

Over the years, dad used different parts of the backyard for our garden. In the picture, my mom and brothers/sisters are shown when the garden was further back, right in front of the corrals.  Then the garden spot was moved to the area in front of the chicken coop, where it was when I was old enough to help. Even though I enjoyed the results of the work, it seemed a daunting task to weed and take care of everything we had planted.

One of my clearest gardening memories comes from the year I was assigned to keep the potatoes free of “potato bugs”. I've since learned that Colorado Potato Beetle is the official name of this pest. These beetles were quite the problem in those days, doing their best to eat the plants. We’ve grown a few rows of potatoes in the backyard since reclaiming the space, but luckily we haven’t seen those same beetles on our potatoes.

My dad indicated that I could be a big help that year by keeping the beetles off the potatoes. He gave me a quart-size oil can, one of the cardboard ones with metal ends. The contents of the can had been used for the last oil change in the family car or for his truck, with just a little bit left inside.  My job was to routinely scour the potato plants to pick off any of the offending beetles, and drop them into the oil can through the little hole that had been made by the oil spout.

To encourage my potato guarding efforts he proposed a compensation plan. The “bounty” was a penny for every beetle that I had picked off the potatoes and dropped into the oil can. The greater reward to the family would be less beetle-eaten potato plants and a better crop.

I accepted the challenge, and along with my other gardening duties, I took to the potato patch often, to make sure I had every beetle possible in my oil can. Weeding was always a chore, watering was a bit more enjoyable, but picking the beetles off the potatoes was the best of all.

I’d like to think that we had the best harvest of potatoes ever, because of my diligence at keeping the plant-eating beetles in check. I don’t know if it was better than any other year’s crop or not, but I do remember what happened when we opened the oil can to count out the beetles.

Sitting on the back porch, my dad cut the metal top off of the cardboard side and began tallying up my work. After considerable effort to keep the bit of oil that was the beetle’s final resting place inside the can, we reached one hundred. Somewhere near that point I was offered a deal. My dad looked at the remaining beetles in the can, and said, I will give you $2.50 total. I don’t think he was trying to pay less than what was due - it was just a chance to keep the oily mess to a minimum.

I declined the offer. I wanted to see how many beetles there really were in the can. Dad continued counting, and finally came up with around 500 of the little oil-soaked beetles. I was as impressed as he was. I knew I had a lot of beetles in the can, but didn’t think there were that many.

I don’t remember what I did with the nearly 500 pennies that were my reward for a summer of beetle collecting, but recalling a memory like that from the gardens of my youth is priceless.

Rivalry, Renewed

When I was just a boy, I remember my dad taking me to watch my brother play at Romney Stadium, USU. I don't remember the year for sure, but I would guess it was 1980 or 1981, or thereabouts.

It was a beautiful fall day, about like this one I bet, and the big game had been the talk of the town for the last week. It was that year's renewal of the gridiron rivalry between Logan and Sky View, and I was going to watch the game! I was excited.

As we were walking towards the stadium, I distinctly remember two kids a fair piece off the sidewalk, in the grass, squaring up for a fight. I am pretty sure the combatants were from the opposing high schools, and I often wonder if they thought they were going to settle the matter of supremacy once and for all, with their fists.

I was quite amazed by this spectacle. I looked over my shoulder again and again to see what was happening as we continued up the walkway to the stadium. As is often with my memory, I focused in on that particular part of the event, and other than knowing where I was and why I was there, I don't remember anything about the game - beyond those two boys psyching up for the battle.

I started high school the same year that Mountain Crest went into operation. It may have been a sign of the times - 3 schools instead of 2 - or for some other reason, but the Logan vs. Sky View rivalry seems to have lost it's consuming traditions. I just had a short conversation about this with my brother, the one I had gone to watch that day long ago. He feels the same way I do about it, too.

He recalls the way it was back then. It was the county kids against the city kids. It was a big deal. There were activities like school against school burger eating contests at the A&W in Logan; big pep rallies; the usual pranks - a fever pitch leading up to the match on the field.

During my high school days there were some great valley football seasons too, especially the year just after I graduated and Sky View lost a close State Championship game at Romney Stadium, to the Mustangs of Hyrum. These yearly matches are still great games, but it just doesn't seem as consuming as it was in the "old days".

But tonight, it's the old Logan vs. Sky View rivalry renewed again. The burger eating contests are gone, maybe the fever pitch has largely gone too. I don't imagine the days leading up to the game have generated quite the same interest that they did in times past. It's still an exciting event for me because I remember the stories about the way it was. On top of that, Sky View will inaugurate their new field tonight, the first game ever on the new artificial turf, playing one of their oldest opponents.

I know that Logan leads the series, and I know that both teams have very talented players, but tonight I'm going to pick Sky View - because I'm an alumnus, and because it's a home game for them. Other than that, I will just be glad to be there watching two good teams face off, and enjoy the outcome whatever it may be - but a little bit more if my pick is correct.

Times Change, But Some Things Stay The Same

January, 1929:  Fire was no stranger to the community, but an early morning fire in the Ward Meeting House was the last straw.   It was time to get serious about fire protection, in Newton, UT.

My father's sister recalls a knock at the door in the early morning hours, as her dad was summoned to join the others battling the flames.  She bundled in a blanket and sat at the big picture window in the front room of their home, with a clear view of the scene.

The meeting house was destroyed by the blaze.  It was devastating to the small community - the loss of a building so intertwined with the lives of the citizens, a building that would take many years to replace.

Out of the ashes, the desire to do something more was rekindled.  Faced with the recent loss, and prompted by one of the members of the community, the Town Council approved the purchase of a small hose cart with a few hundred feet of hose.  Also approved was the purchase and installation of fire hydrants on the Town’s water system and a siren to help notify the community in event of a fire.

Now that equipment was available, it was necessary to organize the citizens.  Carl Jorgensen had been key in the discussions about fire protection in Newton, and he was given permission to select a few of the townsfolk and to form a “Fire Squad”.

Using the hose cart and the hydrants, when the call of a fire was sounded the Fire Squad would respond and begin firefighting operations while the motorized fire engine of the Logan/Cache Fire Department was making the long trip to Newton.

In 1940 the Town purchased a wagon to hold additional hose, a wooden ground ladder and other firefighting tools.   Along with the new equipment, the designation was changed from “Fire Squad” to the Newton Volunteer Fire Department.

Newton's Hose Wagon, restored and ready for the 2008 Town Celebration Parade.  Photo: Ray & Julie Wickham.

When a call would come, Chief Jorgensen or another firefighter would respond to the fire by means of motorized vehicle with the wagon in tow, and the department would work to control the fire in advance of the Logan/Cache engine arriving from Logan.  Afterwards, it was common to see Carl and his wife in their yard cleaning and reloading the hose onto the wagon.

In the early 1960’s Newton received a motorized fire engine from Cache County, to aid in fire suppression efforts.  To house the engine, an old railroad building was purchased and was moved from Cache Junction into Newton.   This became the official fire station for Newton and the building is still standing but is now privately owned.

Newton Fire Department photo, app 1963.  L-R: Chief Jorgensen, Max Christiansen, Rod Fabricius, Vaughn Rigby, Claude Peterson, Garth Benson, Norris Anderson, Darrell Goodsell.  Photo: AC Greg Jorgensen

The Cache County Fire District was formed in 1965, and Newton’s zone for fire protection grew to include Cache Junction and the other un-incorporated areas around the town.  Chief Jorgensen retired from the department during this time of change.  Carl had served the Town as head of department for 36 years, he was 83 years old.

Darrell Goodsell became the Fire Chief after Carl’s retirement.  Chief Goodsell served for many years as a firefighter for Newton, as well as holding a career position with Thiokol Fire Department, where he would retire as a Crew Chief.

Newton Fire Department, 1974.  L-R: Jerry Jenkins, Reed Jenkins, Chief Goodsell, Norval Jones, Rod Fabricius, Norris Anderson.  Photo:  CCFD Chief (ret) Lyman Hansen

During Darrell’s tenure, the station moved from the railroad building on Main Street, to the school house converted to a Town Hall.  Additional vehicles would be stationed in Newton – water tenders and a brush truck – to further the ability to fight the variety of fires the department would respond to.  During this time radio activated pager technology came to Cache County, and a new fire engine to Newton in 1985.

Newton Fire Department Apparatus, 1986.  Photo: CCFD Chief (ret) Lyman Hansen

Chief Goodsell had retired before I joined the department, but I remember a few fires where he was on hand to help where needed.  It was a sad occasion but also an honor for our department to be part of his funeral services after his passing earlier this year.

Reed Jenkins was selected as Chief after Darrell retired, and is our current Fire Chief.  I joined the department in 1991; a tender had just been built by members of the department, to replace an aging, older truck.  A few years later we would place in service another custom built tender; upgrade our brush truck; and add other equipment as needed.  Just this year we received another new structure engine from the Fire District, to better protect the Town and area around Newton.

Newton Fire Department, 2002.

Newton's 2008 Kenworth/Pierce Contender Pumper.

In a few months, it will be the 80th anniversary of the fire in Newton’s Meeting Hall that resulted in the creation of the fire squad.  In April of 2009 we will mark our 69th year as a volunteer fire department.  Many things have changed as to the vehicles we use and how fires are fought, but constant is the dedication of those who have and do serve.

Over the years many have served as firefighter in Newton.  Attending station training, attending classes offered by the county, responding to fires.  Their service is appreciated.  It’s a brotherhood of concern for the community that is common in the fire service. I am grateful for the example of those who serve now and those who served before.

Tubing Photos

In the previous post I mentioned that the kids went down by themselves.  They did after 1 trip down to get them comfortable with the river.  This photo is from the first trip down while my son was riding with me.  This is also during the time when I was getting acclimated to the cold temperature of the water, and the grimace on our faces is directly related to that.

In this photo my daughter is on her own tube, tied to mine with a bit of a rope.  It was much better this way.  While on her own she was never far enough away to make her feel scared.  My boy was tied to a cousin who is his same age, they had a great time.

Family Reunion

We spent last Friday to Saturday at my wife's-side family reunion in Ogden Canyon.

It's a really nice spot, on the way from Huntsville to Causey, Monte Cristo and points East. Her family has been camping there for a long time, over 30 years I think.

The camping part of it is not a bit of fun for me, for various reasons.  The fun part is visiting with family members; maybe go swimming/fishing in Causey; take a drive towards Monte; eat good food, and tubing down the river.

Back a few years ago we would attend the entire reunion, 3 nights and 4 days of relaxation mixed in with the above mentioned recreational activities.  The last few years we have only been able to arrange for 1 or 2 nights of the reunion, but we still get our fill of fun.

This year was possibly the most enjoyable for me.  Our children are old enough that they can float the river on their own tubes, and that makes it much easier.

Friday last week we went down 4 times, and it was great.  Everyone had a lot of fun in the water.  It takes about 40 minutes or so to float the stretch from the campground we stay in down to the pickup spot.  We break the law and ride un-restrained in the back of trucks to our camp, then get back in and go again.  I will post some photos of this years tubing, as soon as I can.

The first time down was earlier in the morning and it was cold.  I wasn't expecting it to be that cold and was surprised when my legs went numb.  Before the first trip was done I was used to the temperature and all was well.

Except for a break for lunch and waiting at the pick up spot for a ride back to the starting point, we were in the water, and if we'd had more time before supper we would have gone again.

After having such a fun time on the water, I can't wait 'til next year.

AWOL

I don't imagine I have many dedicated readers, especially after a long, long, long time without a post.

I have been upset over something and didn't feel like I could talk that much about it.  I obsess about such problems, so I didn't focus much time on other interesting things to write about either.

The issue at hand is still an issue, but it's not monopolizing as much of my thought process as it did a few weeks ago. In fact, right this moment, I am wondering why I was so constantly bugged by it in the first place.  I could have managed all the needed contacts and work on this problem and still had time to think about more enjoyable things, but I just didn't ease up.

So, I think I need to do a better job compartmentalizing my frustrations and enjoy things more.  We have a camping trip coming up and a trip to SLC the week after that.  Now those are some real important things to worry about.

They don't make them like they used to

I live in the middle of Newton, on Main Street. Right next to us is a hay field. A hay field on Main Street? It’s not that uncommon for rural Cache Valley. There are several areas inside the town limits where hay or grain is raised every year. They are becoming fewer as the years pass because of children growing up and wanting to build and live in Newton. The family owned ground inside the town limits is the logical place to plant those homes, but some interior fields still exist.

The gentleman who lives next to us is a relic. He's 94 or 95 years old this year (an estimate, but pretty close) and still gets out and takes care of his hay fields that surround his home. He's a very private person. He has a sister who is in a care facility in Logan and I don't know of any other family living.

I remember a day a long time back when one of our cows got its head under the corral fence. He alerted my mother to the problem - dad was at work - and my mother didn't feel she was up to the task. She asked him for help and he came back with a saw and cut out a section of the fence to free the cow’s head.

Last year we were fixing the corral in an area that borders his property and had some conversations with him. He offered me some grass hay from around his barns, and we helped him cut down part of a tree.

I know that he likes to watch baseball, and back in the day when a thriving competition existed between all of the small communities (carried on today by the Blue Sox and other local teams), I believe he was involved on the teams Newton sponsored.

On his property is the finest replica of an old farm barn that I have seen in Cache County. I know of others in other communities, but because it's in such good shape for its age, and because it was in the background watching over the childhood memories of my backyard, it is my favorite.

 

In a way, it's a representation of the man who owns it - strong and silent, surviving through the ages, holding years and years of memories inside. Since I was a youngster I had wondered what was inside, but never had the courage to ask to look inside it.

That changed last year, when we were helping him with his tree and he agreed to show me the barn. Mostly it wasn't anything spectacular, just the kinds of things you would expect in an old farm barn. There were some ancient tractors inside, but that wasn't news because I have seen them year after year when he cuts and rakes the hay around his home and barns.

The one treasure that I didn't know about was an old 1916 Hudson farm truck that he reports still runs, and he occasionally starts it up to make sure of that.

Another spring has come and almost gone, and it's hay cutting time all around the valley, including the lot just next to us in Newton. Every day and into the night there are tractors criss-crossing Newton to the fields that surround us. It's a parade of all makes and models of farm equipment.

I watch these tractors and trucks driving by all day, but seldom is there a time when I stop and watch one of these farm implements at work. What is really special is the day that my neighbor brings out his hay cutting tractor.

A larger photo would be better, but I hope you can get a feel for the history at work in this little field next to our house. I have watched him use this same tractor and hay knife setup since I was knee high, and still love to pause and watch when he cuts his hay once or twice a summer.

If you take a look at the area where a steering wheel would be - and notice that it doesn't have a steering wheel, then you'll get a sense of the age of this little tractor. What it does have is a set of reins. They attach to levers on the sides of the frame and operate the steering mechanism. A museum piece in operation, I love it!

Lately I have been wishing that I had taken the time to find out about things that my dad and grandparents could have told me about their lives. Except for the few things that we have recorded or remember, those stories are gone from this earth. I hope I can avoid that mistake by taking time to learn and record the memories of friends and family that are still with us.

Government Sanctioned Torture

I am sick.  My lungs are full of crud, I have aches and pains, and I wish I was in a Nyquil induced coma right now.

I began to get sick Thursday, sore throat.  I started using over the counter remedies because Saturday I was scheduled to be at the Logan High track for a session of government sponsored torture, otherwise known as the wildland red-card pack test.

This is the physical fitness test required to be completed each year in order to have your red-card certification renewed.  What is red-card certification, you ask?  It's what an insane person seeks in order to be allowed to fight fires on federal lands, as a member of a Forest Service hot shot crew, or a BLM crew, or a wildland engine crew, or a local department who offers resources, etc.

Here in Cache County we use it as a means of identifying personnel who can respond to wildland fires on government owned land, to work with Federal and State fire suppression personnel on those fires.

To complete the test you must carry a 45 pound pack around for three miles and complete the distance in less than 45 minutes.  Let me just say this: If you think the pack test is strenuous, actually spending a shift (12+ hours sometimes) on a mountain digging fire line, cutting down trees, etc., makes the pack test look like a walk in the park ....  So, the government sanctioned torture doesn't end with the pack test, the pack test is where the torture begins!

I am happy to say that I didn't give in to the torture attempt, I didn't let them win!  I made it with ample time to spare, but torture it was nonetheless, mainly because of that darn cold I mentioned above.

A person who exercises regularly, or prepares by starting to exercise a few weeks to a few months before taking the test can handle the test without difficulty.  I had been preparing and exceeded my goal by a little bit, I just wish I could have tried the test on a weekend when I wasn't starting to get sick, as will be related in the next paragraphs ...

I felt better that morning, not suffering as much from the cold symptoms I had dealt with the day before.  After the test I went home and finished a full day of fire department and personal work projects, then settled in for the night.

After I had sat down for about 1/2 hour, I was hit with the realization that I was sliding backwards into a pit of suffering - also known as the common cold.

From that point on I pretty much became a vegetable on the couch unless I absolutely had to move.

Now it is Monday and being the loyal employee that I am (ehe), I got up and made it to work at my usual time, and pray that the cold remedies will help me get through the day.

I hate colds.

All said and done, I don't mind the pack test that much.  I didn't get sore from the exertion, just suffered afterwards this time because of the cold I was starting with.

I do enjoy the initial attack of a wildland fire - where the bombers are coming in, dropping retardant all around you; firefighters are coming from several stations to setup operations, etc. - that's quite a rush.

The extended work of a wildland fire is monotonous and strenuous.  I don't like that as much, but it's part of the job and since I will be wildland red-card re-certified I better get used to the fact that I will likely end up in the hills with a shovel or other tool, before this summer is done.

A Memorial Day Conversation

Background:  My family and my wife's family are cemetery visitors.  We have been and always will be, I think.  Personally, I can't imagine doing anything else on Memorial Day besides visiting graves of loved ones.

For the last several years, and due to the fact that there are so many cemeteries for us to visit, we break it up.

If we are going to visit the graves of my mother's family, we usually try to do that on the Saturday before, but it's usually not a mass visit - turns out to be one or two of us is all.

Sunday is the day to visit my wife's relatives resting places.  We meet at the Garland Cemetery where my wife's sister is buried.  Then we travel to East Garland to decorate the graves of her father's grandpa and grandma.

After that, we travel to Bear River City where my wife's mother's dad and a brother are  buried.

Then on to Honeyville where my wife's dad's biological father and his mother are buried, as well as his adopted father.

The last stop of the day is in Brigham City where my wife's mother's grandparents are buried.

This year we gathered at the home of a sister after the Box Elder Cemetery visits were done and had supper there.  It was a great day.

Each year on the official holiday, my brothers and sisters gather in Newton to visit our dad's grave as well as his parent's and grandparent's graves.

My dad's mother came from a polygamist family, the patriarch of which was William F. Rigby.  He had 7 wives and households full of children and grandchildren.  Check the link for a small bio of his life.

A large part of his family is buried in the Newton, Utah Cemetery, and we can spend a lot of time walking from plot to plot remembering where each person fits into the overall picture.

I know we don't do a lot of recreational things on Memorial Day, but as I look back over the last several years I notice that Memorial weekend is right up there in my list of favorite times of the year.

So, enough background, let's get into the specific conversation:

Oh, one last note:  My wife's family has a lot of graves to visit and they like to leave a flower on each one so they have gotten into the habit of using artificial flowers - the kind you would buy and then use in a larger arrangement - instead of buying the mums that proliferate at the stores each May, just to save money.

At the Garland Cemetery on Sunday just past, as we were beginning the trip across Box Elder County, my father-in-law said, "When we get to heaven, our relatives will be upset with us because all we have used is fake flowers on their graves".  A moment later he continued, "Well, they'll be upset with all of you when you get up there because I won't be there, I'm going somewhere else".

At this point, my 11 year old son, ever compassionate, ever helpful, said, "OH!  I know where YOU'RE going ......."

Of Farming and Other Things: Part 2

Continued From

Having been employed by a friend's family to help with chores at his family's dairy since I was old enough to do such things, I was asked if I wanted to join their Dairy 4-H group as well.

I was excited to do that, because that meant I got to "adopt" one of the calves each spring and prepare it for the cattle shows over the summer.   I had seen my next oldest brother show calves and heard about the other things the group did, I was glad to be part of it.

The time came to select the calves we would show.  The dairy's registered name was Bridgerland Holsteins, or something like that.  If I remember correctly the calf I would show was "Bridgerland Rocky something or other" ....

I had been around cows and horses since I was young.  It was no surprise to me that animals don't always like to be interact with people, especially if a halter or rope is involved.  It was a surprise, however, at how similar putting a halter on a calf can be, compared to say, water skiing.  That is, if you can stay on your feet for any period of time after said halter is attached to the calf.

On this much anticipated day, we herded the group of calves into a corner of the corral and went to work attaching halters to the ones selected for showing.

It wasn't too terribly difficult to walk up slowly and get the halter on, but once it was on, leading the animal anywhere was another matter.  A calf that doesn't want to be led will generally pull back, or bolt, or otherwise express it's anxiety.

This is where the similarity to water skiing comes in.  If you were agile enough to stay on your feet you could enjoy quite a ride, manure rooster tails included.  What usually happened is the calf would soon head off for the fence and use it to try brush you off the end of the rope.  It was a rather successful ploy.

After a while the calves would tire of this game, and we could start to acclimate them to human contact.  Each day that we worked with the calves it was pretty much the same story, with some improvement in the tame-ness that was displayed by the animals.

Before long we would be able to walk in and put the halter on our calves without a rodeo. Once that was accomplished we were able to leave the corral to a nearby field or dirt patch to teach advanced leading skills such as stopping in the perfect stance, which is a required element in the show ring.

Of course there would be the occasional time when one of the calves would sense freedom and make a break for it, leaving the fellow at the end of the rope little choice but to hold on until the road rash became too severe or some other obstacle suddenly prevented him from maintaining a grip on the rope.  After the aching stopped, retrieval of the escapee became an entirely new drama.

It was finally time to take our prodigies to the first show of the season, Black and White Days in Richmond.  This particular year, my friend and I would go up to the show grounds earlier than the rest of the group and spend the night in the stalls with the first load of animals.

This was the real fun of being in 4-H!  Skipping school for a couple of days, and getting to stay out with the calves, what a treat!  My friend and I were deposited at the show barn with a few calves and some equipment, and we settled in.  A bit later another 4-H group from another part of the valley came in with a few animals and left a couple of kids with their animals for the night.

I shudder at the thought of it all, I mean, I couldn't of been more than 13 years old.  I don't know how our parents let us do this all by ourselves.  But we made the most of it.  Before long we had hatched some plan to play a joke on the kids from the other 4-H group, and we implemented that plan.  I don't think it was anything malicious, just some 4-H humor of some sort.  The problem was, the other kids were a few years older than us ....

Well, we were severely chased around the cow stalls until my friend - who they believed to be the instigator of the prank - was captured and hauled kicking and screaming to the indoor arena where he was deposited into a very large barrel of wood chips, and left there.  I was lucky enough to be spared the same fate, but I had my share of wood chips covering me by the time I had rescued my friend from the barrel.

After laughing over the fun we had just had we decided to go to the bathroom of the indoor arena and brush off as many wood ships as we could.  While doing that we heard some motorcycles pull into the arena and a moment later into the bathroom came two of the scariest fellows I had seen up to that point of my life.

They must have known that there was restroom access in the arena, I guess, and had no other intention than to use the facilities and leave.  But for a couple of 12 year olds basically alone in the wilds of Richmond, Utah, we were quite taken back and we quickly went back to where our calves were tied.  Okay, our exit from the bathroom/arena was probably way more dramatic than that ....

Somehow we were able to get some rest that night, even with one eye open watching for further prank-revenge attempts - or unfamiliar visitors.

Of Farming and Other Things: Part 1

I grew up in a Mecca of agriculture.  If you lived in that community and were not involved in farming of some sort it was because you moved in or had decided not to continue what your father or grandfather began.

I'll spend some time on the history of my dad's side as it relates to this topic, here:  My paternal grandfather came from Denmark when he was very young and my paternal grandmother came from a prominent Northwest Cache County LDS polygamist family.

My grandfather ended up in this community working for farmers; my grandmother's family helped settle that part of Cache County and were farmers of that region from the get-go.

There are stories in grandma's family history about living in the area now known as the "Long Divide" (the NW Cache to NE Box Elder thoroughfare), and how they had to deal with bears and lions and other predators, to prevent losses to the sheep and cattle.

My grandfather met my grandmother and the rest is history, so to speak.  With my grandmother's significant number of siblings - and she being a she - most of the farm ground the family owned went to the boys of the family. 

My grandfather loved farming and helped my grandmother's family on their land as often as he could.   With grandma's family land all tied up, he looked to other occupations for income.  He worked with the railroad for many years, as well as starting a chicken and egg producing family business to sell the products.

My grandmother was a teacher in NW Cache County schools to augment the family income - leaving an awful lot of the work in the chicken project to my dad and his two sisters.

My dad served in Korea during the war; once back home he completed an LDS mission to his dad's homeland of Denmark; then met my mother and the rest is almost history. 

Dad wanted to farm, but lacked the ground to call his own, so he helped relatives as often as he could.  My mother grew up in Smithfield, UT, also a daughter of a farming family.  She was no stranger to the work required to farm, but she did not retain any rights to the land her dad farmed.

To provide for the family dad finished his education degree at USU; taught school in Garland Utah for awhile; decided that was not his life's dream so he operated the service station in our town for several years; he sold insurance somewhere in there as well, finally he worked at Cache Valley Cheese in the shipping department.

He loved his horses, he loved to have a cow or two around to feed out and then use for beef in the freezer.  He started a family food project in the backyard (a BIG garden).  We raised chickens and turkeys just as he had when he was young.  We had a supply of eggs which we ate as well as sold to others; we would process the turkeys in the late fall and sell them for holiday dinners.

The three of us boys (2 sisters, but they didn't work for farms) were involved in agriculture from when we were young.  Taking care of our garden and animals, milking cows for various dairy farms in town, moving irrigation pipe, and all the other summer farm work.  We had an almost endless supply of income opportunities within the small 2 mile radius of our town.

Later on my dad returned to his farming roots a bit when he started a side business to provide an opportunity for the middle son and myself to have summer work and more income for the family.  We were custom hay haulers.

Dad bought a New Holland bale wagon (back when bales were hauled by hand and were small and manageable), and we went to work.  We would contract with a farmer to haul their hay/straw bales from the field to the barn for a price per bale as well as mileage in cases where there were long transit times.

A year or so later we added a piece of equipment lovingly called a "stack retriever".  I was the main operator of this device, and jokingly I still wonder why anyone - after having placed a stack of hay somewhere would care at all to have it "retrieved".  Nonetheless it was a nice addition to the business, allowing us to save wear and tear on the bale wagon by using this vehicle to haul hay long distances.

The implementation of large bales and other circumstances terminated the usefulness of the operation, but it served it's purpose for our family while in operation.

What a life it was for a boy growing up in the outback of Cache Valley, to have a summer income working for farmers or working for my dad's contract hay hauling business.  We learned a lot and we know how to work and get things done and we had fun.  Who wouldn't enjoy perks like an afternoon swimming trip to the irrigation pond?

Now you have the basis for the next part of the story, which will include a description (as best as I can remember) of an event that happened in Richmond, Utah while I was in Dairy 4-H, at the famous Black and White Day's which is currently under way this week.

Continued Here

Highlights of the last several days

1.  I love to watch Ghost Hunters on Wednesday nights, and last Wednesday's programs were quite spooky.  I mean, watching (crazy) people walking around all night in an old abandoned building that is reported to be haunted, and then watch the analysis and see video footage of what appears to be paranormal activity - that's enough to make me check twice in the closet, under the bed, etc.

2. Last Friday night I didn't go home right after work because I had a meeting in North Logan at 7:00.  Chief's Association (Cache Valley Fire Chiefs) is always a good meeting, but it was on Friday night and I was glad to finally get home.

3. I rooted for the Jazz, vicariously.  As mentioned above, I was at a meeting during the Friday game, and we were with family and on the road during the Sunday game.  Tonight I'll be at fire training and will miss most of the first half, but I get so keyed up when the Jazz play because I want them to win, so it's probably best.  Go Jazz, steal away a game in LA!   I'll also miss Ghost Hunters - boo, hiss (pun intended).

4. Saturday we did some work around the house and yard, took my mom to Logan for a pre-Mother's Day lunch.

4. Sunday we went to Orem for a family get together (wife's side) to wish a nephew well as he leaves soon for a mission.  That was fun.  On the way back we stopped at a grandma's house to visit for Mother's Day.  A long day in the car, but it was nice.

5. Monday night I took out the new fire engine for a little drive around town (first time I've driven it), then waited at the station to meet the Fire District officer who was taking it to Salt Lake to get the radio installed.

6. Last night I fixed my brother's tiller and delivered it back to him.  My kids wanted to go over with me, and on the way home we went over and looked at the 2 way radio just installed in the new fire engine.  I am surprised a bit that my kids were interested in seeing the new engine and finding out how to operate it.

Of course there are the every day monotonous tasks of feeding the cows, cleaning up the house, etc.

Nothing earth shattering pops to mind as I complete this list, and I don't have anything really spectacular planned for the future either.  (Sigh) I guess my wife is right, I really am a boring person who likes strange things - ghosts, firefighting, etc.

The Woes of the Gardener

It's Spring time in the Wasatch, and we have begun the season of gardening at our household.  It has not been as serene as it could have been, though.

We inherited a tiller from my wife's grandmother.  We used it last year and it was wonderful.  It's old and showed signs of wear, so over the winter I took the handle off and stored it in the garage until my wife could transport it to her dad's shop and have it welded in prep for this year's use.

After that was accomplished, I put the tiller back together and discovered that the cable from the handle to the pulley that engages the tines was not moving through the sheath, and once I engaged the pulley the cable would not release, so it was all tines all the time.

Not a terrible problem, I tilled until something inside the gear box broke, maybe the chain that drives the tines after the pulley is engaged.  Nonetheless, no more all tines all the time, no more tilling.

I eyeballed the design of the frame. It would require lengthy de-construction just to get into the gears that the chain runs on, so I went looking for other options until I can get up the motivation to tear down this old tiller.

I didn't have to search far.  My brother heard my dilemma and rescued me by letting me borrow his tiller Saturday just past.  What a nice machine it is!  2 years old, smooth and neat.  I had the garden patch whipped into shape in no time, ready to plant, then I decided to do just a bit more in some hard packed ground.

Well, I now have two broken down tillers at my place, and am awaiting shipment of the part that broke on my brother's tiller so I can repair it and return it.  I hate borrowing expensive things and I should have realized that something would go wrong, but I still hate it.

Now I just have to focus on the end results that we will get and let it offset the work and trouble we've had with the tiller drama.

Those tomatoes and other things better be really good this year!

I Can't Stop Laughing

A Short time ago a co-worker IM'd me about a story he read on KSL's website.

This is how he set it up:

Hey, Huckabee is writing a "best seller" about his failed presidential bid.

Of course the best seller part of that headline is this co-workers attempt at humor, the story didn't really include that perspective.

I read that on my IM screen and I just started laughing out loud.  I have thought about it for a few minutes, and I guess I just laughed because in my opinion, that would not be a very interesting read.  I know that is my opinion and others might actually buy the book.

Here is the link to KSL's version of the story.

In my reply to this co-worker I said, "I can't stop laughing".  To which he said, "Just hearing about that book makes me want to go to sleep".

Yes, I laughed a bit more at that because I was feeling the same way.

I guess it's a good thing that I don't make decisions about stuff like that, because who knows, it just might become a "best seller".

Manipulation Instead of Satisfaction

On my way to work this morning I listened to a radio station originating from the region's largest city.  It is a 5AM - 7AM talk show format covering the local and national topics of the day.

I'm going to preface the rest of my post by saying I'm nothing more than an occasional spectator in the arena of politics.  I have tried to be a bit more aware of the issues at hand during the current election year - therefore my tuning into the program mentioned above.

But, as mentioned in other posts, I have subjected myself to the all encompassing hobby of being a volunteer firefighter.  With all the things that entails, who on earth has time for serious thoughts about such mundane things as the leadership of the free world?

Back to the radio program:  The host commented about the common "talking points" that an election cycle contains, and how they seem to be re-runs of the campaigns years before.  What's behind it, is the question he posed.  I have recognized the repetition, but because I am so centered in things not political, I never reached a decision of my own.  I will try to explain the hosts opinion on this topic.

He began: A candidate or a party will build a campaign around the issues that the candidate/party feels are important.  The candidate/party will wave the flag of these issues in front of our faces in a manner that entices us to voice our support for or against them, based on our personal views.

The host of the show indicated his perspective as this:   The candidate/party is not even slightly interested in solving the matter in hand, all they are interested in is the ability of using that issue to create a fervor - among those who agree with their position - in order to cause them to open their pocket books and donate to their campaign.

His belief in this theory stems from his perception of the history of the executive and legislative branches of the government - when these branches are aligned by party and supposedly empowered by said alignment - wouldn't we expect them to take action to resolve the things they campaigned about?

Take recent history for example.  We are still hearing that the democratic party will solve the health care debacle, but when the alignment existed in favor of the democratic party, no resolution was achieved.  That is just one example, and to be fair it's happened during the other side's alignment periods as well.

It does appear to me that effecting solutions to their list of problems doesn't really happen even when these alignments exist.  The issues that are always resurrected at campaign stops during each election cycle are not resolved and possibly little or nothing is actually done to solve the problems.

The host continued to say that if they actually solved the problems they campaigned about, then candidates and parties would not have the means to support their next campaign because we would not be inflamed into donating money and other means of support for the candidates who preach cycle after cycle about the very issues they are not really intending to solve.

I may have to consider this point of view further before I totally "buy" into the things the host was saying, but, what if it were true ....? Then, I would have to say that it's a bit embarrassing as a population to allow ourselves to be duped into hitching our wagons of support to their platforms - election after election - only to be left cleaning up after the horses ......

Baby Animal Days

There is local annual event of the same name as the title of this post, that was held in Wellsville at the American West Heritage Center last weekend. This post is not about that event, but it's about our very own baby animal days.

As you may have read from an older post, we have been hosting a few of my brothers yearlings and a soon to be mommy cow.

The soon to be part of that is no more.

I went out to feed Saturday morning and saw that the calf had arrived. The kids were so excited, they'd been waiting for this for a long time.

I'll attach a couple of photos:

Over the winter we've had those other cows with us, and the kids have been real good to come out and help feed them, with occasional lapses of interest setting in.

Now they are extremely anxious to spend time out in the backyard where they can see the new calf, they even come up with reasons to be out there.

Baby animal days are in full swing, and we didn't have to travel across the valley and pay entrance fees, either.

Why A Flashover Kills

I read recently on Firehouse.com that a firefighter in Missouri was caught in a flashover while working at a house fire and was burned quite severely.

A flashover is the near simultaneous ignition of all combustible material in an enclosed area.

Flashover occurs when the majority of surfaces in a space are heated to the point (known as fire point) at which they give off flammable gases that are hot enough to sustain combustion. Flashover normally occurs at 500 °C (930 °F) for ordinary household combustibles.

You might be thinking, well, firefighters wear that protective clothing that should help them be okay in a flashover .....

In part that is true.  We wear that protective clothing when we enter burning buildings so we are protected from the heat the fire is generating.  But, it's not good enough to protect us from the temperature that exists when a flashover occurs.

Through my years of firefighting I have been taught and now teach to the firefighters on our department, that our protective clothing will keep us safe for about 2 seconds at a temperature nearing 1100 degrees F.  The temperature of failure may actually be a bit higher or lower, but it's still in that range of really-stinking-hot, regardless.

In my career, I've been at several house fires where the temperature was reaching the really-stinking-hot stages.  At one in particular, we searched the ground floor of a home - looking for the fire - but all we found was smoke and a tiny spot of visible flame around a wood stove chimney where it had started the ceiling on fire as it passed through the ceiling on it's way to the roof.

The fire was burning freely in the second story, so we advanced our hose up the stairs to attempt an attack on the fire.  As we advanced the hose up the stairs the temperatures increased significantly and at the top of the stairs it was so hot that I was feeling it quite well through my protective clothing.  We backed down the stairs and went to work ventilating the upper story of the home so we could release some of that heat.

We lost that house because of the advanced fire conditions in the second story and into the attic.  No one was hurt and a bunch of the owner's belongings were saved.  You win some, you loose some.

Firefighters train in how to deal with flashover in specially designed burn rooms.  It's an amazing thing so see the snaking flames travel the length of the burn room above your head, and feel the intense heat just above you, then learn a technique that could give you a few more seconds - maybe just enough time - to escape that intense heat.

Several years ago I was in Paradise, Utah at a live fire training exercise where a home was used for training burns, and then burned to the ground.  After the training and during the destruction burn, I was able to snap a photo through an open window of what it looks like when a flashover occurs as described above, nearly every combustible thing begins burning at once:

Fire is deadly, it kills firefighters in their protective clothing just as easily as it does civilians - given the right temperatures and conditions.  The one big thing going for the firefighter is the breathing air carried on his/her back as they enter the smoke filled building.  The public generally doesn't have that tool, and therefore smoke kills more people in a fire than flames.

Rapid notification is the key to success in getting you and your family out of a burning structure, as well as giving firefighters a chance to respond before the fire has such a strong hold in the structure that it wins the battle.

Somehow, thankfully, the firefighter from Missouri was able to escape the heat and make it out alive.  Hopefully the treatment for his severe burns will be successful and he will suffer as little as possible.

Let's all be careful out there, and remember to keep your smoke detectors working properly!

It was a dark and quiet night, until ....

*****Another flash-from-the-past entry:

When I was 12 years old I moved on to the official Boy Scout Troop in my small town. There were a lot of boys my age and we had known each other all through school and church activities, and we generally had a lot of fun.

To make it even better, we had some really good leaders. We joked and played a lot, but we also got a lot of merit badges and other advancements done as well.

Now that I'm much older than 12, it's really neat to live in the same town as these two scout leaders and still get to see them at church, at the post office, the store, etc., and keep that friendship going after all these years.

Okay, enough background, on to the story.

The bunch of us scouts had the brilliant idea that we should toilet paper the house of one of our leaders. Each of us - as discreetly as possible - gathered up the necessary item from our homes and on the appointed night we met at the appointed time and began our work.

At the time of the event, our leader was living in a single wide at the rear of the property while he was self-building a stick built home closer to the road. This worked to our advantage because there was a lot of area that was hidden from view of the trailer and we accomplished some good papering.

Soon enough we had a decision to make - should we move closer to the trailer and decorate it as well, or just call it good? 12 year old discretion won out and we decided to continue.

Another scout and myself ended up on the little porch of the trailer, winding toilet paper around the railing, etc.

At some point, being up on the steps of the trailer or by some other means, our night-time fun was discovered by our scout leader, but we did not realize it until a short time later.

As mentioned, my position was on the front porch/step of the trailer, winding the railing. I recall looking up momentarily and seeing something cylindrical sliding out of a small window right next to the porch area that I was standing on.

Marveling at what I was seeing, it took several seconds to realize what this strange object was. When I did realize it, time for reaction had expired. The very next moment, before having a chance to sound an alarm of any sort, the relative silence of the night was shattered by a very large KABOOM!

Even though I had had a moments notice, the shock of a sudden loud noise and the accompanying bright flash caused me to loose control of my legs, and all of us - having a similar reaction - bolted away as fast as we could.

When we finally quit running we caught our breath, made sure all were accounted for, then had a bit of a laugh before we each returned to our respective homes.

The really interesting part is the conversation we had with our scout master the next time we were all together.

He described his part of the story, telling us how he had heard some slight noise outside and got up to investigate. He saw us outside, decorating his new home and yard, and he came up with his plan.

He went to his closet and pulled out his muzzle loader, opened his powder horn and he stated that he poured powder into the barrel until he was surprised that it didn't fill the whole thing up. He didn't put a bullet in, just the powder.

Then he carefully cocked the hammer, put a cap on the nipple and crept to the window just to the side of the front door. It being summer, the window was already open and he slid the barrel of the muzzle loader out of the window and pulled the trigger.

Knowing him quite well, I can only imagine the joy that filled his heart to see a group of 12 and 13 year old kids - shocked to their bones - jump and run as fast and as far as possible. If he had to clean up the toilet paper himself, might as well have something funny to think about while doing it.

You know, it's been a little while since we laughed over this memory together, I think I need to stop by soon and recollect again.

Mortimer Pallet Co. Fire

***This is a description of a fire from history, back in 2005.

It was a usual November evening. Folks everywhere were looking forward to the turkey feast that was coming up in about a week.

 

I was sitting in the front room winding down from the days events when I heard tones come across the open channel of my pager. I waited; one set, two sets, three sets (if it goes to 4 sets then I'll get really interested), four sets of tones.

 

Listening closely now I hear the dispatcher add the voice information to the call. "Fire in Smithfield" or something like that. I waited again until the first units came up on the air and gave a report of conditions on arrival.

 

What I heard was a request for a 2nd alarm and that made the decision for me, I will go and take some pictures of this. I grabbed my shoes and coat and left town, making sure my turn out bag was in the trunk.

 

Topping the little hill that obscures Newton from part of the valley, I was surprised to see an inverted cone shape of fire glaringly visible from the East in Smithfield. Yes, it is a big fire I said to myself.

 

I had only traveled about 1 more mile before a request for the 3rd alarm was transmitted, and shortly after that my pager sounded the familiar alert, my departments engine was due on the 3rd alarm for this incident.

 

I decided to continue in and meet the engine crew once they were on scene. We were directed to the West of the fire to assist crews extinguishing fire in a building and to protect the structures next to that building.

 

The rest of the narrative will best be served by a few pictures. I did not take the pictures, they were taken by another individual. I did photo shop them a little bit because they were dark, it being night-time and all.

(Above, below) The main part of the fire was in stacks of pallets in the open air at the rear of the building.

There were significant flame lengths from the well ventilated fuels involved.

For reference, the total 4 alarms at this incident brought 2 truck companies, 11 engines and command staff to manage the resources on hand.

These photos were taken from Smithfield's Main street, about 400 South by an observer who then passed them on to a North Logan firefighter who in turn sent them to me.

Truck 70 works the flames in the pallets.

Truck 120 works the flames in the pallets.

North Logan firefighters stand by at un-involved structures with hoses drawn in case the flames and heat start to threaten these exposures.

Other than the Cache Valley Dairy #2 fire in the early 90's, this is probably the biggest non-wildland fire that I have had a hand in fighting. It's a terrible event when a fire like this breaks and puts property in threat of damage and loss. Thankfully no one was injured.

2 Firefighters Lost

This morning in Ohio, 2 firefighters were killed in a house fire.

Read more in a Firehouse.com Article.

The nation's firefighters will pause and reflect once again as we take in this sad news.  Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the fallen firefighters.

How Far to Take It ....

Have you ever been snubbed?

Ever been overlooked for a task that you were capable of handling, and handling well?

Ever initiate a conversation on the subject and had the person that overlooked you for the task explain why you were not invited to participate?

Did that explanation make you feel better or feel worse?

It made me extremely angry.

Now, what am I going to do about it?

I am developing a plan that hopefully will prevent this oversight from happening ever again, and I hope I have the patience to complete the plan in a way that is not too aggressive and avoids animosity between everyone involved, but still gets the point across.

It's been keeping me up nights, several nights in a row, and I'm tired of that, literally and figuratively.

So, I'm initiating the plan. I've setup a demonstration, I've made the necessary invitations, including to the person mentioned above, to be a part of the solution.

I hope we can come to an understanding. 

Maybe more on this later, maybe some specifics, we'll see about that.

Obsessing over the layout

I am pulling out my hair over the layout of my blog.  Okay, not literally pulling my hair out, but it seems like it.

I need a weekend break to think things over and see what direction I might take next week.

Problem is that I look around at other blogs and see how cool they look, nice backgrounds, designs and layouts, then I try to figure something out that looks the way I want it to.

I haven't succeeded yet.

Several different attempts and the longest any of them lasted was 2 days, I think, or was it less ....

I got so frustrated with it today that I moved back to a 2 column template and put a simple little shadow edge around the columns.

I will have to regroup and decide if it's about the design, or more about what I might have to say.  I would like it to be both reasons that people want to visit and read my articles, but maybe I'll just have to work on writing interesting things that make the dull layout okay.

Hmmmm.

Maybe I should just not look at other peoples blogs, just stick to reading their posts through Outlook 2007's awesome RSS feature.

Time to eat pizza and do something other than fret over all of this.

Then again, I am programmed to fret, worry, ponder, obsess.  It's in my genes.

Sigh.

Cool Photoshop Technique I Just Learned

I was anxiously awaiting the return of Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and was definitely glad to see just how nice the new site is.

I picked up a valuable tip today, in the Photoshop section of the site.

I've been dabbling in web design for many years, and I love to take photos, especially of firefighting subjects, but I haven't really spent the time necessary to learn the Photoshop Elements program that I use.

Not so any longer! Thanks to my visit to Pioneer Woman today I have picked up two techniques that I can use to make my photos look better.

Thanks again, Pioneer Woman!

Here is my first attempt at one of the techniques, the SOOC photo:

Pretty good, but needs a bit of touch-up, so I tried one of the tips and came up with this:

I'm excited to start using this tip and the others I'm going to find as I use the Photoshop section to learn more about the fun things you can do with this program.

Fallen Firefighter

Firefighting is a brotherhood.

Today we mourn the loss of another firefighter in a line-of-duty incident that occurred in Los Angeles, yesterday, March 26th.

From the LAFD Media and Public Relations Blog:

Los Angeles Firefighter Killed in the Line of Duty

Our hearts go out to the family and all across the nation fire companies will reflect on the loss of this firefighter.

Firefighting News Flash

Mainly because I'm not able to put together a real post, I'll just link to a couple of large fire incidents out of California for this entry.

Both incidents are from the LA area of California and were found on my daily visit to Firehouse.com:

Anaheim Tank Farm Blaze

San Fernando Condominium Complex

Let's all be careful out there!

Easter Traditions

Originally posted March 21, 2008.  With Easter upon us I decided to repost.

When I was young, one of our observances for Easter was to plan a hike for the Saturday before.  We would pack a lunch and head out on foot to hike to a little cave on Little Mountain (NE of Newton), or if we were really lucky a parent would take us a little closer to the mountain via car.

We would hike up to the top of Little Mountain and across the ridge until we were right above the cave, then down to the cave for our lunch break.  While there it was common to crawl back into the cave to the end, because we had the notion that it was the Easter Bunny's cave.

About the only thing we ever found was evidence that coyotes had been in the cave, nothing resembling the evidence of rabbits was found by me or others I was with.

After lunch and exploring the cave was done, a parent would show up at the appointed time and take us back to town.

I remember one specific year where a friend and myself were planning the traditional hike to the Easter Bunny cave.  We decided to invite a friend from school who was from another town and had never had the experience before.

In this particular case, I think we were dropped off close to the base of the hill and arranged to meet our ride back at Newton Dam at the appointed time.

We had a great time.  Up the hill, along the ridge, down to the cave, eat lunch, explore the cave then head back to our meeting spot.

This day the meeting spot required us to hike back up to the top, then down the West side of the hill to the reservoir.

All was going splendidly until we started down the West side (much steeper back then, if you ask me) and I implemented the improvised toboggan slide-roll maneuver down the hill.

I have performed that maneuver many times in my life, but probably never with as much grace as I did that particular time.  The problem I faced was that towards the bottom of the hill was a barbed wire fence.

I am glad to report that I did not maintain my speedy descent all the way to the fence, and was able to avoid injury.

All's well that ends well, I guess.  I walked out the pain and we caught our ride back home to relax the rest of our weekend.

Another successful Easter weekend hike was under our belts, even though we never met up with the Easter Bunny.

Genealogy Lesson

I found this joke in my email inbox and wanted to share, because it just made me laugh off a bit of the pain of the local Aggies close-but-no-cigar loss last night.

I quote:

"A little girl asked her mother, How did the human race appear? The mother answered, God made Adam and Eve and they had children and so mankind was  made.

Two days later the girl asked her father the same question. The father answered, Many years ago there were monkeys from which the human race evolved.

The confused girl returned to her mother and said, Mom, how is it
possible that you told me the human race was created by God, and Papa said they developed from monkeys?

The mother answered, Well dear, it is very simple. I told you about my side of the family and your father told you about his."

I hope you enjoyed it (even if you've heard it before).

Life Repeats Itself

When I was younger a group of friends would gather on a Friday night at one of our houses and we would play games, well into the night.

Board games were the most usual pass time during these sessions, often it was The Farming Game (yes, a real game, I still have it) but most of the time we would play Risk.

This was back in the old days before all the different versions (Star Wars, etc.) came out or before the "army" pieces looked more military like instead of odd shaped blobs of plastic.

We would play for hours.  I think it was an obsession of some sort, a competitive obsession probably - beat your buddy up consistently - but an obsession nonetheless ...

Well it's a generation later, and I found myself on the front room floor with my boy playing Risk tonight.

He is obsessed with it just as we were, but it's not a competitive obsession with him, he just loves to pretend battle his way across the board and would go for hours if we let him.

The funny thing is that he plays it by himself a lot more than with me or anyone else.  Hours on end if we let him, and we don't, but it's a self-stim that we have to really watch and it's hard to get him to buy into the logic we use to keep him away from it for a few days.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that we had played it together.  I had a great time and he did as well.  It's a lot of fun, I could get used to playing it again like this, for fun instead of for domination.

I was reminded of the old days when we played weekend nights as a group of friends, and hope that between everything else that takes up our time in the evenings I can work in chances to play it from time to time with my boy, keep up the circle of life, so to speak.

Sunday Afternoon Call

At church yesterday I was having a reminiscent moment talking with a young man who had spoken in our worship service.  He had served his mission in California, the same mission I was called to 20 years ago.  We were talking about how the mission had changed it's boundaries since I was there, etc., when among the sound of conversation from us and many others in the chapel, I keyed into the too familiar sound of my pager.

I have two alert sounds programmed into my pager.  If it's a fire it alerts me with one pattern, if it's a medical call it alerts with a different sounding pattern.  I've commented before on how I still get a bit of an adrenalin rush when the tones for fire sound from my pager, yesterday was no different.

After the tone alert is finished, it transmits the voice information from dispatch - what units respond, address, type of call, etc.  While I was walking out of the chapel trying to hear what voice information was being received and not having much luck, it did nothing to settle my anticipation of what we would face in a few minutes time.

I was finally outside and was able to play back the recorded message from my pager.  "Tender call for a structure fire", just down the road in Petersboro.  I responded to the station and we prepared a crew to send in one of our tenders for the water supply needs at this fire in a a non-hydrant area of Cache County.

After managing a bit of a mechanical issue, our tender pulled out and I followed along behind  the tender crew as the department officer responding.

It's always a grim feeling when a house is involved.  We had about 6 miles of road to travel before arriving on scene, and being in a wide open space of Cache Valley, we were able to see the structure miles in advance.  It was good to see less smoke coming up than what was visible when I was driving to the station, but it can be a hollow victory.

It really doesn't matter who's home it is, a fire in a a home is a terrible thing, but I believe it's a bit harder to take as a firefighter if you  know the owners.

To realize who's home it was, and that they had within the last 4-5 months finished it's construction and went from living a couple of blocks away from us in Newton to this new home in Petersboro, was one of those moments in firefighting that you don't want to experience.

Our part of the response was short lived.  Discovering a fire before it is too far advanced is always helpful, and coupled with the automatic aid agreements between the valley fire departments, the quick response saved a lot of the house and hopefully it will be as easy as possible to return it to its former condition as quick as possible.

Is This Alzheimers?

I'm sitting here intending to describe thoughts and events of the last 4 days.  My hands are hovering over the keyboard waiting for that sweet recollection.  I'm still waiting ....  still waiting ....

I honestly can't remember too much about what has happened until today.  Man, this is bad, but maybe it will come back to me.

Today was good though, as far as I can remember ....  The Aggies won in Las Cruces, another game tomorrow.  Work was okay today, lots to do to keep busy - but not too much.  I didn't mind the rain too much, it didn't affect what I did.

It's our daughters birthday today, we had family over to celebrate with her.  Presents and cake and ice cream.  She is 8 years old today.  Now I do feel old and maybe that explains my lack of memory function.  Okay, I'm not that old but it feels like it.

Oh, some good news, the hydrant I've mentioned before, it's not frozen anymore!  No more using hoses to water the cows, no more draining hoses after each use.  It's the best thing since sliced bread!

Last night was fire training meeting.  I teach, so I spend time that day cramming for the topic I want to instruct.  Because of the recent earthquake in Nevada I chose earthquake response as my topic.  Reading up on the situation in Wells and imagining the potential for injury and damage in a much more populated as Northern Utah does not create warm fuzzy feelings.  I just hope we don't have a significant earthquake occur in our area.

There was a moment of stress today.  Our new engine needed to be in Salt Lake City today for final inspection at the dealer who spec'd and ordered it from the factory for us.  I got a call about 12:30, from the firefighters who had taken in down, telling me that there were several things to be done and it was not going to come home tonight, so can you get someone to come take us home ....?

Luck was on our side and the dealer finally freed up someone to bring them back, because my attempts to find someone from our end to make the trip was not going too well and I wasn't going to be able to leave work until about 2:00, and then I would have missed my daughter's birthday party, so yeah for the dealer solving the problem for me!

I still don't remember much about Tuesday or Monday, except that I lived through it because I'm still here, so maybe that's all I need to know.

I guess that means I should take the time each day to log something somewhere or at least re-cap the day in my head so I don't loose chunks of time like this anymore.

Sunday, A Day of Rest

I have been feeling sick since after the funeral Friday.  I have had an extremely painful sore throat.  I have had a headache most of the time.  No other troubling symptoms, but the throat has worried me a bit so I went into Instacare to have it checked.

No strep!  Yeah!  But the sore throat is still a problem.  I decided to stay home from church today, except for an interview I had to attend with wife and daughter and Bishop.

My treatment has been lots of water, sometimes water and a bit of apple cider vinegar mixed in, and ibuprofen for the headache.

Yesterday was a pretty good day, we were low-key as a weekend should be, with good food (a trip with the fam to Sizzler) followed by a very painful (not as bad as the sore throat) stop at a couple of stores.  I hate to shop, by the way.

I logged on to the local radio station to listen online to the Aggie game, was pleased to hear them playing well again, finishing off the season with a 2 win road trip to the land of the potato.

Later today we were scheduled to be at a grandma's across the mountain for a birthday visit.  It was a nice time, conversation and cake and ice cream.  She is 89 years old today.  We hope she is with us a lot longer.

Nothing really heavy to comment on after these last two days, just a chance to rest and try to gear up for the coming week.

Final Call-out

What a beautiful day.  A clear blue sky, and a chance to honor a person that made a difference.

I would hope that everyone could be spoken of in that way -he/she made a difference.

Today friends and family gathered together to honor and remember one person who was a strength to those around him.

There were stories told that many hadn't heard before, and many others remembered their experiences with this friend privately.

There's something about the sound of the siren that sits on top of our station and is activated every time we are asked to respond.

In my younger years it was an ominous feeling when it's tones cut through the stillness of the night, or interrupted your thoughts mid-day to ponder what was requiring action from the fire department.

The lonesome tones cycling up and down in pitch would send chills through me, and now that I am one of those who set life aside to answer it's beckoning call, it has no less of a hold on my emotions.

A final call-out was issued over the counties fire department radios at 1:50 PM, March 7, 2008.

As the pager finished it's alert sequence, and the dispatcher finished his requested words, all was silent except for the lonesome rise and fall of the town's siren reaching the hearts of everyone in attendance at the service.

Those who had pondered the life presented to them over the last hour and three quarters felt emotions rise up anew during the short tribute to our former chief of department.

It was our privilege as a fire department to carry our former chief to his final resting place on the back of our fire engine.  Joined by our brothers of the ATK Fire Department, we placed the casket on the engine and drove under an arch prepared by the valley's truck companies, on the way to the cemetery.

Yes it was a sad day too, but it was a beautiful day to remember a life who made others feel better by knowing him.

Glad it's Not That Cold

I might be complaining about the cold, but I guess it's not too bad here, compared to this photo.

Taken in New York in the 70's after a fire, this engine company now has to figure out how to de-frost to get back to their house.

There have been some really cold days and nights to be on a fire in Cache County, but luckily no vehicles were frozen up this bad.

There was a moment of concern on a fire in Clarkston back in my younger days, when my breathing air regulator froze up while inside the house and left me scrambling to get outside and get my mask off. And that was in the daytime .... The pump on our engine needed some time to thaw out in the station, as did the firefighters.

Then there was that middle-of-the-winter, middle-of-the-night in Amalga at a haystack fire; or that middle-of-the-winter, middle-of-the-night in Petersboro at a house fire; or that other time .....

Working Together to Make Things Better

After work tonight I was able to be at the cemetery to help prepare for the digging of a grave and the arrival of family and friends for the graveside ceremony.

For the time of year it is, there's still an amazing amount of snow on the ground.  With shovels and snow blowers it was pretty easy to find the hidden headstones and make enough room for the backhoe to get to the right plot.

It's a great thing when you can make a few phone calls and have a group of people come together to make things better and get the job done in as short an amount of time possible.

 

Obituary of Former Chief Goodsell

NEWTON, Utah — Darrell Victor Goodsell, 76, left this life on March 3, 2008, after a courageous battle with cancer, surrounded by his family in his home.

He was born in Newton, May 21, 1931, to Alfred W. and Edna May Henriksen Goodsell. Darrell grew up in Newton and attended school there in a little two room schoolhouse. He later graduated from North Cache High School. He married his sweetheart, Sarah Jensen from Collinston, on March 30, 1951, in the Logan LDS Temple. Shortly afterwards he enlisted in the Air Corp and was stationed in Olathe Kansas from 1951 to 1952. After the service, he worked 10 years for the railroad and later retired after 30 years from Thiokol Fire Department as one of their crew chiefs. He started his own business, Cache Valley Fire Extinguisher, and operated it for over 30 years. Many business owners will remember his cheerful and friendly disposition.

The community of Newton appreciates all that Darrell has done for their small town. He has served and worked over the years in many capacities. He was honored as their Outstanding Citizen of the Year for 2007. He served on the Newton Volunteer Fire Deptartment for 50 years and was the fire chief for 30. He was known for having a beautiful garden and took great pride in it, always sharing home grown fruits and vegetables with everyone. Darrell will be most remembered for his love of life and the outdoors. He was an avid sportsman and enjoyed baseball, softball, water-skiing and snowmobiling. He loved to hunt and fish. He was a loyal Aggie basketball fan and attended whenever he could.

Darrell has been an active member of the LDS Church all his life. He served and contributed in a variety of ways. He loved his calling as a temple ordinance worker and made many dear friends there.

Darrell is survived by his dear wife Sarah of 57 years; his sons, Jerry (Leona) Goodsell and Lynn (Darlene) Goodsell; his daughters, Jeanette (Brent) Jorgensen and Joanne (Mark) Peterson; 11 grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren; and four sisters, Viola Johnson, Fern Greene, Avis McBride and Gwen Dahle. He was preceded in death by his parents and three brothers, Roger, Mervin and Reed.

Many lives have been touched. Many hearts will remember.

Funeral services will be held at 12 p.m. on Friday, March 7, in the Newton Ward Chapel, 90 S. 100 West in Newton. Friends may call from 6 to 8 p.m. on Thursday, March 6, at the Allen-Hall Mortuary, 34 E. Center in Logan, and prior to the funeral services from 10:30 to 11:30 a.m. on Friday in Newton. Burial will be in the Newton Cemetery. Condolences and thoughts may be expressed to the family online at www.allenmortuaries.net.

We want to give special thanks to family and friends for their love and support, and to Dr. Ali Ben-Jacob and his nursing staff.

The Cows in the Backyard

Of Course this picture is not of the current situation, but it's the best I had of a cow and the backyard in the same photo, so I'll use this one.

My brother raises Red Angus cattle.  This winter and last I have fed out some of the yearlings of the herd.

This winter has been quite a challenge, simply because it's winter, nothing more than that.  The cows are quite well behaved, don't cause trouble, don't try anything fishy - just eat, drink and sleep like good cows should.

The problem this time is that the hydrant at the corral, 100 yards plus from the house, has frozen or otherwise become inoperable.  Reasonable attempts to correct the situation have been fruitless at solving the problem.  Therefore, we resulted to "Plan B".

Plan B has been to run hose from the faucet at the back of the house to the watering trough and fill it once a day.  Problem is, it's cold outside.  Draining the hose is a must, and then for a month or more I would have to take a torch to the faucet because the section sticking out of the house into the cold winter air would freeze up.

This added a lot of time to the nightly efforts of watering , and a bit of aggravation when something wouldn't go right and the hose wasn't drained well enough, and it froze.  That meant a trip to the house with the offending hose for a soak in a warm tub, then back out to the yard to connect and finish the job.

So on it goes.  It's been a bit better this last few weeks because I don't have to use the torch to un-freeze the tap, the warmer afternoons take care of that for me.  It will be really nice when the hydrant out at the corral thaws or is fixed, saving the extra time.

There are some other challenges to the job that I will likely discuss in another post.

There is a bright side to every challenge, my son just loves having the cows with us, he comes out as often as he can and helps me feed them.  I really enjoy the times when he comes out, and that makes it all worthwhile.