p.s.  Not sure why my spacing is so messed up?  I copied and pasted it from Word.  Sorry!

Memories of Grandparents

A significant part of my early memories of Grandma Palmer include her exclamations of how some of us had grown- each time we visited. Though I was soon sent back to “the back room,”  to work on getting the ball out of the rubber duck for the next several hours, I knew she loved and cared about me because of the initial hug, kiss, and exclamations. I looked for the day when I would grow taller than her, because she made such a fuss over the older ones who had passed her up.   I remember well the cozy feeling of being packed in like sardines around the kitchen table, and the not so cozy feeling of giving mom a panicked look as I was served up cooked onions.  As I snuck over to whisper to her that I couldn’t eat them at the end of dinner, mom looked as panicked as I did.  The table seemed to go silent as grandma scowled and told me not to bother mother. “What is the matter?” said the sharp voice. “Oh EAT them.”  I gagged on my food for the first time ever, and mom somehow disposed of the rest of them without grandma noticing. After those tense moments, everyone would relax there in the crowded kitchen after dinner- the boys and dad sprawled on the green couch by the window, telling stories. That, or when the dishes were done, some of us would go in the living room, and Dad would hold grandmas hand as they sat in the rocking chairs that sat next to each other, telling stories or sitting in companionable silence.  Grandma looked happy during those moments when her children so affectionately held her wrinkled hand…that is- until I crept in from the back room to whisper in mom’s ear, or to quietly sit on her lap.  Then, the scowl returned and a sharp, “quit botherin’ your mother!”  I wasn’t offended.  I knew from a young age it was just her way, and I’d slink back to what seemed “outer darkness.”

  When Uncle Joel and Aunt Lois were visiting or staying for the summer, the house came alive with jokes and overflowed happiness.  Who could keep from feeling happy with the energy that seemed to cheerfully bound from Aunt Lois, as she firmly instructed all the children where to go and what to do, and as uncle Joel tried to stomp on “barking spiders,” control his teasing boys by, “milking the mouse,” and told jokes and stories with such jovial and sincere enjoyment? He would wipe at the tears running down his cheeks, and the rest of us would find ourselves doing the same- it truly was contagious! How happy I was when Holly stopped waiting around for Katie to play with her, and settled for me!   We had such good times playing in the barn, climbing trees, eating “cheese its,”(some kind of weed,) playing “statue,” and exploring the upstairs. We dreamed in Aunt Pauline’s bedroom and wished we had dolls to put in that cool old cradle. We made beds of grass in the field, picked ripe plums and green apples that would supposedly make us sick.  I was a little envious sometimes that those cousins seemed so comfortable there, and busy and useful, since I felt very underfoot most of the time.  But Aunt Lois and Melanie never let the grass grow under our feet for long.  As Shawn and I got older we would usually stay a few days in the summer to spend time with Holly and Nels, and to work on the Butler farm-(I’m sure mom just wanted us to experience some hard physical labor.)  We were instantly put to work picking berries, pulling “Dyers Woe,”(?), cleaning house, gardening, cooking, etc.  Most of it we liked- it was great to feel so needed and useful, but my energy waned after a full day of pulling weeds in the field.  I was shaky and weak, hot and filthy…but then came the reward that Melanie had been encouraging us with all day- “The Flume.”  I never knew something could be so fun! Getting sucked through that man-made canal thingy was a rush! One of those first summers, tragedy struck while Shawn and I were staying with the cousins.  Lena Clark (our neighbor from across the street,) was killed in the car accident.  Joel and Lois had to leave, and mom and dad couldn’t come and get us because they were busy helping the Clarks, and Shawn and I were alone with Grandma.  It seemed like we were there for a week- I’m sure it was only two or three days.  We were so homesick, but we tried to comfort each other the best we could.  We watched “An American Tale,” and “Where the Red Fern Grows,” until we were truly depressed, and tried to stay outside, busy, and out of Grandma’s way as much as we could.  When dad pulled up to get us that last day I don’t think he’d ever had such a warm reception.  We leaped off the porch into his arms then waited impatiently while he visited grandma.

I can’t leave Grandma’s house without mentioning the barn. The dust that floated on the light streaming through the cracks in the barn was beautiful to me- it represented “The farm,” past and present.   It represented my grandparents and dad and uncles and aunt Pauline , “back in the old days,” doing daily chores of feeding and milking and all the other wonderful things that seemed to go hand in hand with the era I thought I should have been born in.  My imagination was always stimulated as I saw the old baby buggy in the loft, the dusty old green car in the other side of the barn, and climbing to the top of the hay stack and peeking through the cracks in the barn.  The milking stalls were still stinky and fun to explore.  They made me wonder, what dad was like as a little boy?  What did he do?   As for the rope swing, I don’t know how long it had been there, but for me, it represented timeless enjoyment that may have been enjoyed by many a little farmin’  Palmer.  I remember that first thrill of climbing into the loft, catching the rope and swinging across the barn to the opposite wall.  Someone would toss it up from the bottom, and my heart would race as I would hope that I wouldn’t fall off the loft wall in the act of catching it.  The swing across was pure joy.  I loved it. 

Here’s a few more one liners.  No more details.  I’m not very good at the happy medium. 

Cookouts out in the driveway; “Kickin mule;” Rodeo weekends;  Sleeping outside in the sheds on old mattresses with Palmer cousins, and  getting soaked with mosquito spray.  Leaving Grandmas house scratching like crazy.   Jumping on the tall bed upstairs;  Snooping in drawers and closets- the romance and mystery of the past was hidden somewhere there.  I just knew it.  Katie found dad’s old uniform and other things in a trunk in the boys upstairs room; Was there some old teddy bear or something in the tiny back porch behind the living room that talked?;  Grandpa sitting in the corner. Scared to kiss him.  Scared not to; Doing dishes with Benton and Holly- grandma getting after us for splashing water everywhere when Benton tried to smack us with wet dishtowels; Climbing to the tops of the pine trees. Loving the feeling of people not seeing me.  Dropping pine cones to get peoples attention; Picking apricots at an old neighbors of dads, with dad.  Again, feeling like a real farm girl as I climbed high in the tree to drop fruit to waiting hands below;

It seems appropriate that I should end my memories of Grandma Palmers house with Grandma always coming out to the front porch when the weather was good, to wave good bye as we left, or rest her hand on the small of her back and lean against the pole and smile.  It was a nice picture I keep of her in my mind.

Memories of Grandpa Craner-

    My earliest memories of Grandpa Craners actually involve Grandma Birdie.  My memories of her are vague…Knowing she wasn’t healthy, her  long stringy hair always looking so unkempt, and feeling even at a young age that there was somehow strained relationships with her. No one seemed at ease  when we visited.  I remember visiting her in the nursing home just before she died and being surprised  that she didn’t remember  us- then rationalizing that, after all, she wasn’t really  my grandma.  Even I knew that.  After she died it seemed that visits to grandpas were longer, and it was then I discovered all the treasures of toys hidden in the coat closet where the folding chairs were, and in the basket in the closet of the back bedroom.   It was exciting to realize that going to grandpas could be really very fun. It seemed like grandpa brought out a few more things every time for a while; it was so fun to have new things to play with.  The already mentioned toys and games will be repeated for my posterity’s sake…  Mr. Mouth; Hungry Hippos; the toy cash register; Mr. Potato Head; the top; the stuffed poodles;

    Then there were the summer toys and games stored in the garage, always brought out on memorial day.  The carosel, the catch and toss games; the bounce  ball horses we’d have races across the yard on; badmitton; the rocking horse; etc.

    I longed for the day when I could sleep in one of those beautiful blue ruffled beds in the back bedroom. They were so pretty and romantic – and why would grandpa have them if not for his grand-daughters to sleep in?  What waste! My opportunity didn’t’ come until many years later when as a young teen, we stayed over because mom had to take grandpa to an early morning operation of some sort.  I remember washing my face, and feeling around for the hand towel to dry my face.  How soft grandpas towels were! (I thought.) Imagine my surprise upon opening my eyes to see I’d dried my face on his washed out socks, hung to dry.  (I washed my face again!)  The romance of finally sleeping at grandpas house was dashed as I noticed all the underlying dirt and smells that had once evaded my childish eyes and nose.  (Or maybe he was just a better housekeeper when he was younger and healthier.

     Every memorial day I go on a sentimental journey, reminiscing about our special traditions with grandpa.  He truly had “reverence and respect,” for the dead, and was sure his nearest  and dearest were not forgotten. The flower preparation consisted of cutting lilacs off of Vicki’s bushes, or any other blooming flowers grandpa had, loading the hot house flowers in the trunk, getting the wire to stick them in the ground so they didn’t tip over, and filling Sunny Delight bottles with water. We then proceeded to   visit graves.  After  that solemn and sometimes sleepy affair we looked forward to  the lunch preparation of rubbery jello salad, dry potato salad, silver dollar hamburgers, potato chips, and creamies for dessert.  I loved that things were always the same. Growing up is sometimes hard, and it’s nice to feel that there is a constancy somewhere in your world. This was one of my constancies.  I loved getting to see the older kids and nieces and nephews  who came home to visit for the tradition.  I loved playing with the yard toys and having races and enjoying spring weather.

    Christmas dinner was another constant when I was younger.  I felt a little resentful sometimes that I was always at the kids table and longed to be with the older family who came to visit…it was a  happy  day when  I got to sit in the kitchen where all the life and excitement was.  Creamed corn seemed such a delicacy – the sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top made me gag-(I love them now), and chocolate covered peanut clusters weren’t my favorite, but everyone else seemed thrilled by them, so I forced myself to try and like them. More than being at his home around Christmas, I always fondly remember the magic of “The Festival of Lights.”  As we stood waiting for the turning on of the lights and the parade to begin, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation, with happiness and love.  Everyone seemed happy and Christmas was on its way!  Afterwards we would sometimes visit grandpa and pick up our gifts.  It seems like this was one of the times I remembered Grandpa waving us down just as we were leaving so he could wipe off our headlights. Then we would drive to the Hollingsworths on the way out of town to see their Christmas light extravaganza, then fall asleep to the radio singing the first Christmas carols of the season.    Grandpas gifts usually doubled the pile under the tree, and when he would come on Christmas day, you could see the pleasure in his eyes when we’d open an especially silly gift like a roll of toilet paper, or an actual box of corn flakes.  There was a little tease left in him yet!

    Yet another constant was the rodeo and rodeo parade. The waiting lawn chairs by the seminary building were always there, whether  we were or not. It seems like people were always stopping to say hello during or after the parade, to praise grandpa and his good deeds, or to reminisce about his influence on them when he was teaching Ag. One of the best parts of the rodeo was the 2$ grandpa would give us to spend on a burger and root beer.  To this day, I wonder if those burgers really tasted as good as I remember them, or if it was just the atmosphere.  When I was younger, he would come with us, and lay out his Indian looking woven blankets, and he carried his own square folding chair with a back, with him. 

I remember one year grandpa brought huge garbage sacks of corn to our house.  Since we couldn’t grow a garden well up the canyon, this was really a novelty!  As we sat husking it in front of the garage, we loved that we’d have fresh corn on the cob.  Most of it, however, was soon prepared to be frozen.  Our usually scary storage room became steamy and cozy as the older kids helped mom prepare the corn for freezing, and I was proud this corn came from my own grandpa’s garden.

    I also remember Grandparents day at the elementary school.  Of course, grandpa was my only grandparent there, and I began to recognize   that my grandparents were older than most.  Everyone else seemed so spry and young, but I was  glad to have grandpa there…even if he did wear a pink shirt and checkered pants.  It felt good to know he would travel so far just for me…and Katie and Shawn of course.

    Once grandpas toys lost their novelty, I began to notice the older kids consistently looking through the photo albums.  I also became  anxious to see pictures of myself, and tried not to feel left out and jealous as I recognized how many things the rest of my family had done without me.

As I got older and came to Preston for clogging with Katie, we enjoyed stopping to visit him, and were always gratified with cash and specific  instructions as to whether we ought to go to  to Big J’s to get a chicken burger or Burger King to get a shake. I think sometimes he thought the only reason we stopped was for the money, when he would hold up his empty hand and say, “No money today!” I’m sure that even with our assurances that that wasn’t why we stopped, he probably didn’t believe us.

I was proud of grandpa Craner (though perhaps unsure weather or not he really took any notice of me until I won Jr. Miss.:)  I always knew he loved me.  He came to my few ball games, watched me in cheer leading, remembered my birthday and Christmas every year with cards and gifts, and took my picture occasionally!  However I felt like until I announced my engagement with Shane to him, I never knew how much he really cared.  I told him the news and when he seemed not to hear me, I showed him the ring.  He threw down my hand in frustration and emphatically said, “Oh Hell, you’re too young!!!” At dinner afterwards, poor Shane somehow got the seat next to Grandpa.  After dishing up, Grandpa barked, “You’re insulting the cook!” as he salted his funeral potatoes.  Bewildered and unsure what to say, Shane was even more startled to hear Jeff say in his comfortable, normal voice, “Don’t worry, he’ll be dead soon.”  He looked at Grandpa a little panic stricken, then realized he hadn’t heard.  Or, so we hope! (His hearing those last several years made it so one almost had to shout to be heard.) Soon after I was married grandpa sent several of his type written letters to me, the first apologizing for his outburst when I had told him of my engagement.  Those letters are very precious to me now.  I felt like when I wrote him and he wrote me, we had some of the first real conversations we’d ever had. I look forward to really getting to know him and the rest of my grandparents when I get to the other side… I know I haven’t even scratched the surface of getting to know who they really were.

Karley and Dustin's wedding

Do you remember all of the songs we sang in the car, interspersed with games of ZIP and quarrels over who really got that white horse worth 5 points and being scrunched and someone always pulling someone's hair, and Jeff teasing and making kids scream?? We sang "Clickety-clack kalunk kalunk , the train is coming, kachunk kachunk...",  "Over the river and through the woods...",  and all of our Christmas repertoire, when we went for the holidays.  We sang songs from "The Sound of Music", "Oklahoma", "Annie Get Your Gun", "Peter Pan" and any other records we had at home.  I know this probably doesn't sound too familiar to the younger kids as some of the songs changed over the years.  We sang "When I came to this wondrous land, I was not a wealthy man...", learned from the Mckees and sung around the campfires along with "Late Last Night",  and "Old Joe Clark" and " The Animals Having a Barn Dance". I've taught our children some of these and it's been such a sweet "full circle" moment to hear them belting those songs out at the top of their lungs as we drive on vacations or to visit family.  Music is definitely part of my memories of trips to Preston.  Dad was always happiest when we were going there.  I remember him laughing and singing right along with us.  When we got there,( it seems like we usually went to the Palmer house first) and after the greetings, we got to play outside if it was good weather and the barn and the corrals and the trees and the milkshed were so fascinating!  We would play "house" in the pine trees and climb the low apple trees and suck nectar out of Grandma's honeysuckle flowers and put our fingers in the snapdragons and open and close them to talk.  I remember vividly a time when I sat with cousins and cracked open peach pits on top of a wooden trap door by the sidewalk that I think covered an old well.  It was exciting and dangerous to whack them with hammers and rocks and eat the nut inside. When it was winter, we were usually sent to the back room to play while the adults visited, and playing "Phone" with the string that came out of the old heat register quickly LOST it's fascination.... so you moved on to the duck with the ball stuck inside but attempts to remove it were fruitless and you found yourself bored and wandering to the front room where you were told to, "Get to the back room!!!".  I found an old picture tucked behind other pictures a few years ago that shows Amy and Jeff and I and Melanie all dressed in old chore clothes and feeding Albert the lamb from a green 7UP bottle.  It brought back early memories of going out to watch chores being done and observing intently as the cows walked in to their stanchions, and the milk machine latched on to the udders (I'm trying to word this delicately) and started the milk going through all the tubes into the other room where the big machine stirred it around and around.  We would squat down against the wall and watch the other stuff that comes out of cows( please note again the delicacy of the wording) as it fell into the trench behind them and someone with a square shovel would start at the north side and slide it all down to the south wall and out of the barn. So very thrilling for the city cousins to see how the country cousins lived!!  There was Prince, Grandpa's big red horse that I dreamed of using for my reign as THE FAMOUS PRESTON NIGHT RODEO QUEEN and Pud, the huge furry dog like the one on Bug's Bunny who blows his fur out of his eyes every once in a while to see what Wile E. Coyote is doing to his sheep. I think everyone remembers homemade bread and real butter and cream that made mush into manna from heaven, bacon or sausage and eggs, and Mulligan, and the older kids will remember Poohah (sp?)  Rhubarb pie with cream  was another favorite from Grandma's table as well as any roast beef and mashed potatoes and gravy dinner that she ever made. Sometimes there were unfamiliar vegetables, but if you put butter and salt on just about anything it tastes alright?!?  I didn't like horseradish or raw onions or liver or fat on meat or buttermilk but I was forced to try them all.  I had to try to swallow an aspirin one time at their house and I think I almost threw up and Grandma was so mad.  Haven't you heard of a gag reflex Grandma?? Grandpa Palmer always talked about his mission to New Zealand  and even did the warrior thing with the scary face and tongue hanging out which was cool.  Grandma pulled out her fake teeth to make a face sometimes too, which was good, because it let me know they had a sense of humor.  I kind of wondered when I was little. They were strict and harsh at times which was bewildering to us and stressful for Mom, but I knew they loved me.  I loved the familiarity of their home with its old pictures always in the same place and the player piano that was so fun to hide under and slide open the panel and see the gears and music roller.  I loved the old rocking chairs and the interesting decor.  Amy,  do you remember that red dish that had a tiny cat hanging on to the side, looking down into the bowl?  All of the ancient dishes and pans and the table and chairs that we knelt at for family prayers before we ate.  And the upstairs!!   It was so exciting to explore the old chests of drawers and see old pencil cases and medals and pictures and sleep in Aunt Pauline's big white bed with the fairy silhouette hanging on the wall across from you.  And the ancient bathroom with very old fixtures and a scary tub that was rarely used. When we were very young, Grandma made two little crocheted blue snow hats for Amy and I.  They sat on top of our head and tied under our chins and had ringlets dangling down the back of our head. We looked like little old-fashioned pioneer girls and we loved them. I think she made some little crocheted bassinets for a tiny baby doll that you turned inside out and it was a purse with a drawstring.  One of my favorite things from Grandma and Grandpa's house was a book about Elves and Fairies--the pictures were so interesting!!  When we lived there by Grandma I found it one day and she told me to take it home to read to my kids.  So I did --AND I KEPT IT!!  Don't tell the cousins!  No memories of Grandma and Grandpa Palmer's house would be complete without mentioning Joel and Lois and their family.  Such a busy, happy, crazy family--such good hearts.  I remember Uncle Joel always teasing and making his faces and swatting Aunt Lois on the rear (shocking!!) and telling his funny stories with plenty of colorful "farm profanity" thrown in that really kept our attention.  Aunt Lois was always right by his side in her coveralls, helping with the milking and all the chores and taking care of a growing family.  She seemed so happy all of the time and it was so fun to hear her laugh--especially when teasing Joel.  When we went for reunions, they were the only adults that were playing the games and running races with all of the kids and we had so much fun with them.  It's kind of like Shawn, who is also the youngest, and can't understand why we aren't all sliding on the water slide with the kids anymore?!? Another memory is General Conference time. We always spent it there and it was hard when I was little to sit and listen without a bingo game and treat to help move things along.  But I will never forget the time I sat as a teenager and listened to Elder Bruce R. McConkie give his last conference address.  I told my Sunday School class that I remembered the exact spot I was sitting in when he bore his testimony. I will never forget the way I felt as the Spirit bore witness to me that this man knew the Savior.  It was a defining moment in my life and I'm so grateful for it.  I guess one of the reasons this is so long is that I lived next door to Grandma the last few years of her life and I got to re-live some childhood memories as an adult watching my children grow up there.  Part II of this EPIC memory will continue later........OK,  it's been a few days and it's 11:06 pm and Kaden and Troy are working on my kitchen so I might as well try to finish.  Now, for Grandpa and Grandma Craner's.  What fun it was to head over to their house!!  There was a seemingly young, energetic Grandpa that wore short-sleeved, plaid shirts and had brown curly hair who laughed and closed one eye when he laughed, like he was winking at you.  He would put Amy and I in the green cart with two wheels and a red handle and push us all over the yard while we screamed and laughed.  Then, he would stop abruptly and slide us out the front onto the ground.  He pulled out all of the yard toys in the summer-- hoppity horses, badminton, frisbees, balls, throw and catch gadgets, and the old wooden rocking horse.  In the winter there was Mr. Potatohead (the original) made of Styrofoam that he made copies of when there were more kids than potatoheads.  There was the old Feeley Meeley game with holes lined with black felt on the sides of the boxes to put your hands in and feel all of the objects inside and guess what you were holding.  There was the mouse trap game that took a long time to set up and a short time to play, and the cash register, and the merry-go-round, and the ferris wheel. The blue poodle and the big red bear were there for many years and it was always fun to look at Grandma's beautiful Madame Alexander Doll collection.  Amy and I got to stay overnight a few times in the early days and we loved the cute little room with the matching blue ruffled bedspreads and the cupboard with shelves in the middle displaying the dolls.  There was a cute little blue stuffed rabbit on the bed that had a bumblebee on it's ear and it played " Lullaby, and good night..." and moved it's ear around like it was trying to get the bee off.  I would wind that bunny up over and over to keep from getting homesick when we stayed there.  I think Amy already mentioned the Frankenberry and Count Chocula and Booberry cereal that we had with cans of evaporated milk poured on top.  YUM-- back then, ARE YOU KIDDING ME???--now!  I remember how we sat and watched as Grandma bathed her feet in a basin and not long after that, it was one foot, and then there were no legs from the knee down.  That was very intriguing for little girls to consider and I'm sure we asked too many questions and stared too much.  Now, there was a walker and a wheelchair to examine and maybe play with when no one was around.  I don't have many memories of Grandma Craner other than that.  I know we loved the presents she got for us and appreciated them (remember our "granny dresses" Amy?) but I don't remember cuddles or endearments from her.  I knew she loved beautiful things and had lots of cool knick-knacks all over the house and the presents under the Christmas tree were all so beautifully wrapped.  But I don't remember her personality or the way she talked or laughed and interacted with us.  I realize now that she probably didn't feel well, but I don't think she knew how to enjoy children either.  She is a little bit of a mystery to me.  I do remember the morning Mom woke us up either for the funeral or to tell us she had passed away that I felt like I had just closed my eyes to sleep and the light flipped on and it was morning and we needed to get up to go to Preston because of her passing.  My first experience with death--I guess that's why it's such a strong memory.  Grandpa came up to our house a little more often to help with projects and "teach Jeffrey".  We canned a lot of corn and peaches and cherries and beans and found out Grandpa put salt on watermelon and cantaloupe and sugar on tomatoes!!  Weird!!  It was still fun to go to his house and play all the games and Amy and I played with the next door neighbor girl.  We dressed up in the old hats and pointy shoes and fur coats and Grandpa took our picture.  He was always taking our pictures and I am so grateful now because many of my growing up years and my children's are documented because of him.  I remember going with him to a store in Preston one day and they had samples of Dr. Pepper and he gave me some.  He always had Pringles, Nutter-Butters, and Creamies.  We always had reserved seats at the Rodeo Parade and the Rodeo (which, after living in Preston these many years, I know is no small feat).It was such a treat to receive some money to buy our own hamburger and drink and a Casco.  One sweet memory for me as a child is riding in the backseat of a car with him and holding his hand.  He had veins like I have now, and I would push on one and it slowly moved back into place and I did it over and over again.  I realize that doesn't sound very sweet, but the fact that we were sitting together, holding hands and that he smiled at me as I looked up at him means a lot to me.... I know this has turned into more than just trips to Grandparents' houses, but this is family history for me and I want my children to have lots of details to get to know them better.  I feel thankful that we lived by both Grandma Palmer and Grandpa Craner the last few years of their lives and that my older children have some memories of them.  They all need to write theirs--some are pretty funny! I love you all!