History of Lillis Earl Lloyd
I was born on September 10, 1907 at lona, Idaho, the fourth of nine children born to Milton Wilson and Emma Lucinda Welling Earl. I was not only a little new stranger in the family but also a little “strange”. Two older brothers had dark brown hair and brown eyes, an older sister had beautiful dark brunette hair and green eyes, and as for me, I had pale pink hair and blue eyes. Four sisters and a brother later joined our family and all had dark hair and eyes.
I was two days old when my brothers, five and seven, set fire to the new barn, filled with new machinery and hay. What a disaster to a young couple just getting started, their whole summer’s hard work gone up in smoke and a skinny pink haired, blue eyed baby.
I was only about two when our family moved to Crowley, a small community northeast of Idaho Falls. In memory these were happy days. I felt that I had the most loving, wonderful family that anyone could have. We were all taught to work, to feed chickens, gather eggs, herd cows, pull weeds, tend younger brothers and sisters and help with household chores. But, there was also time for play, a big lawn, huge trees for climbing, and to provide a swing in its high branches, a small stream for wading, a straw stack for sliding down, a big orchard for playing hide and seek while we munched on cherries, pears or apples and, of course, a teeter totter on a saw horse.
Then, there were the Gypsies who came by several times each summer. There was always the tinkling of tiny bells on the horses’ harnesses, pots and pans rattling, singing and instrumental music. The women were beautiful with their long black hair decorated with beautiful jeweled combs, colorful ankle length skirts, plus huge earrings, bracelets and other jewelry. The men wore colorful kerchiefs on their heads and full sleeved shirts. They usually had something to trade, but were mostly out to beg food as they toured the country. Dad loved the gypsies and their music and happy carefree ways so he was always very generous with a sack of flour or wheat, potatoes, apples, loaves of bread, almost anything was gladly accepted. If it was near evening, he offered hay for horses and a lawn for sleeping. I thought it very exciting except if they came when our parents were gone. We had been told by other children that gypsies stole children and sold them, so when we were home alone, we found good hiding places. Indians also came by, two or three wagons at a time. Dad was generous with them also, but when they left we felt sad and depressed for them. As I remembered them years later, it seemed that they reflected the hurt and injustice that was inflicted on these, once proud people.
My earliest school days were spent in a small one roomed red school house. It had a large room with a curtain drawn between. All our Church activities were held in the same building. I started school a few days before my sixth birthday. The school was only about one half mile from home but seemed so far, especially on bitter cold winter mornings. My older brothers would take my hands and when I was almost too cold to walk, they would run with me which I was sure saved me from freezing to death. On several occasions, I warmed my hands too quickly and was so embarrassed when I couldn’t keep the tears back.
When I was in the third grade, I was the only girl in a big class of boys,
and naturally I hated it. About midterm a spelling bee was held between the third and fourth grades. After a period of elimination the word “ache” came up. I was able to spell the word and was the only one left standing. Needless to say, I was proud, but happier still when the teacher immediately promoted me to the fourth grade.
When I was about 10, after an extra early hurried lunch, I was told that I should go with older brother, Ray, (who was fourteen) to cultivate potatoes. It was a hot day, the 8th of July. To cultivate potatoes meant that I would ride a huge old gentle plow horse named, “Old Fly”, and guide her down the potato rows. Ray walked behind holding the handles of a plow that took out the weeds between the rows. I felt quite picked on. Ireta, Milton, Emma and Ida had been allowed to go to Aunt Mattie’s for the afternoon. The sun grew hotter as we trudged up and down the endless rows. Why didn’t Mama bring lemonade and a cookie as she usually did? Why didn’t Papa come and tell us to rest awhile. I complained to Ray, I was dying of sun and thirst. I felt that I could play on his sympathies; after all, he was walking while I could at least ride. Ray was one of few words. Each time I begged for relief he would answer, “We have to finish the field today.” I was sure I was dying of sun stroke and thirst when Papa came out smiling to say he thought we had done enough for the day. We could get washed and come and see our new little sister, Marjorie. Ray managed a grin and I knew that he knew all along why we almost finished the potato field. My innocence was so complete about where babies came from that it was a long time afterward before I was able to put the pieces together.
My innocence was put to the test again two years later. I knew my mother had not been feeling very well and we were all instructed to help and make things easier for her. One day I came home from school and my mother said, “Go and tell Viola I need her.” Viola was a widow lady who lived about a mile away. When I delivered my message to Viola she said, “When does your mother need me?” I said, “I’m not sure, she just said she needs you.” “What was your mother doing?” said Viola. “Cleaning the pantry,” I said. “Oh,” she said, “In that case, I can wait until morning.” I was soon on my way to Viola’s again, this time the message was clear. “Now”. It was about 12 hours and two doctors later when my last little sister arrived, a little dark haired beauty named Louise. This was the second year of the flu epidemic and many expectant mothers died as a result.
We were fortunate in having cousins living just through the field and over a small canal. These cousins were my father’s brother’s children, Uncle Chauncey and Aunt Martha (Mattie), Ireta and cousin, Sarah, myself and cousin, Martha, Emma and cousin, Orma, and small brothers, Milton and cousin, Wayne. All about the same age respectively. We had great times together. The small canal that ran through the field between was wonderful. We were all, except the little boys, allowed to go swimming there during the summer. The sandy pebbly bottom, shallow, but swift, moving water seemed perfect for our fun. We preferred dressing while standing in a flume which crossed the canal. A flume is a wooden ditch like structure which carries water over another stream of water. As we dressed and played jokes and enjoyed ourselves, we, at least one of us, lost a piece of under clothing in the swift running water of the shallow flume, usually a pair of panties, a stocking, or an undershirt. We would go quietly home to our rooms, replace the lost garment with another and go on as if nothing had happened. It was not long until the two mothers compared notes on missing articles of clothing and suspected the truth. That ended our days of dressing in the flume and some exciting fun. Clothing cost money.
It was about this time in my growing up years, that our family, along with other families of the neighborhood, spent Sunday afternoons riding around in their white top buggies, visiting with each other and exchanging news of the community. There were no telephones then, so this was a way of keeping in touch. I loved these afternoons and looked forward to them until one day as we visited with friends out riding in their buggies, the man said in a joking way, “Say Wilson, that’s a fine looking family you have there, but I see only one blue eyed blonde girl and all the others are dark. What happened?” Everyone laughed but me. Dad loved a good joke but was always very sensitive for the feelings of others, but I was just a little girl and he thought I’d think it was a good joke too when he answered, “Oh she’s a little stray we picked up and liked her so much we decided to keep her.” As the days went by I thought of this more and more. I loved this family so much and had always felt loved and wanted and now I didn’t belong. It seemed like a long time before I could find the courage to ask my mother about it. She took me in her arms and she convinced me that I did indeed belong to this family by birth. A little hug and talk with Dad helped too and I felt so happy. But, as years went by, still came into my mind this experience and I often watched for things that made me different. Years later as I looked in the mirror, I was surprised to see a very good likeness of my mother looking back at me. Very much the same accept for one thing, my Dad’s nose. At long last I was convinced.
I was about 7 1/2 when my parents decided to make a long delayed trip to Salt Lake City. Horace and Ray were in charge with Emma and I to keep house and herd cows. As I remember it was a two week trip.
Ireta went along to help tend the younger children. Emma and I were to help with meals and cleaning up. Our brothers had field work to do. In the morning Emma and I herded cows until 10:00, then they were put in a coral until three when we were to let them out and herd them from the deep hay field which they wanted to gorge on. The days dragged along and we were so bored. One day our neighbor lady, Mrs. Stevens, drove up in her little one horse buggy and ask if Emma and I would like to go to Idaho Falls for a ride. When we protested that we must stay and herd the cows at three o’clock, she said, “Oh, I’ll be back long before that. I am only going as far as the feed store.” I honestly hesitated and worried but we were so bored and after all she was an adult and a trusted neighbor.
It turned out that her business took much longer than she expected and I felt such concern and quilt. I had been left in charge. The cows would be broken out of the coral by now and all dead or bloated on the new, tender hay we were to keep them from. I tried to hint that maybe her horse could go faster but we plodded on. At last, I could see the coral and the cows all standing inside. They didn’t give quite so much milk that night but I had learned a valuable lesson. The enjoyment I expected to have was so far outweighed by the quilt and concern I felt over neglecting my responsibility that I have remembered it throughout my life.
When I was eleven, my parents moved to Taylor, six and 1/2 miles South East of Idaho Falls. My brother Ray drove a team and wagon filled with household goods, and younger sister Emma and I followed along behind driving our cows and calves. We took turns riding on the wagon now and then. We enjoyed following the little used hill road to our new home.
We had only a few weeks to adjust to our new school, ward, and friends when the flu epidemic of 1918 swept the country. This was a terrible new virus, causing fever, diarrhea, vomiting and prolonged coughing. It was wide spread throughout the nation and Doctors could do little to relieve it. All public meetings, school, or gatherings were prohibited. People who had to be away from home for work or for buying necessary supplies, always wore homemade masks, made of several thicknesses of gauze or other material. There were many deaths and funerals were graveside with only a few people attending. There were few telephones in the area but people tried to keep in touch with neighbors by riding their horse within shouting distance to see if help was needed.
One day a telephone call came to our house from people living in Rigby. They asked us to deliver a message to neighbors living about a mile away. We did not know these neighbors because of being new in the community, but Emma and I were sent to deliver the message. We knocked on the door of the little house & stepped back several feet as we had been instructed. In a few minutes a small elderly lady opened the door about 4 inches and shouted, ‘Chillins, Chillins, go away! We’re all a dying with the flu.” We jumped back a few more steps, delivered our message and hurried home. It seemed that we had hardly told our story before Dad had a chicken plucked and cleaned and ready for the pot. While it cooked, Mother fixed a basket of other things, bread, bottled fruit, bacon and things they might need. It was only a short time until Dad was on the way back. He found there were eleven people living in three small rooms... .all sick. Dad chopped and piled wood near the door, fed the livestock and chickens and whatever else he thought needed to be done. He went every day for about two weeks. Miraculously all eleven recovered.
My parents were industrious, hard working people and it was delightful to have a bigger hone. It was a big white two story house complete with front and back porch and a haunted attic. There were also many huge trees and a big orchard. Here too, we discovered the sand hill. It was about a quarter of a mile from our house, clean, white sand that sloped gradually up for an eighth of a mile, then an almost vertical drop of about 30 feet which we dared each other to slide down head first or feet first. It was wonderful, for sleigh riding too. What fun we had.
There was plenty of work for all to do. We thinned and hoed beets, cut potato sets, then planted them, herded cows, helped at haying time, cared for little brothers and sisters and so on, but still had time for fun.
Mother was kept more than busy with her big family, gardening, washing, mending, and the million other tasks that were hers, but she often walked through the fields to meet us at the end of a row with a cold drink and a cookie. Dad worked long hard hours and as I grew up, I started to do as mother had done. I would take him a drink of milk or water and a piece of spice cake that I had learned to make. He was the first one who called me Lill, and he always called me that thereafter.
He was Bishop and mother was Relief Society President. We were always praised for being such good workers and as a reward for a job well done, we had a day in the mountains, or even a picture show. Mother did all the sewing for our big family, often using hand me downs, but I always felt among the best dressed of my classmates. We didn’t have much money to spend and worked hard but I felt our family among the most fortunate of the families of the community.
Everything went well for three prosperous years. One day in the spring, soon after noon recess, it began to get dark in the school house, and we were conscious of a howling wind. We were dismissed and told to hurry right home. As the six of us left the schoolhouse we could hardly breathe for the blowing sand. To our great surprise, there was papa just coming up the steps to get us. By this time, it was quite dark with flying sand and it had drifted across the road until a car, not even a team of horses and buggy, could get through. We could hardly breathe for the thick sand but we all took hold of hands to walk the mile and a half home. Our home was one of the better ones in the community but the window sills were white with sand, the floor gritty, etc. My father had all the crops in and after three days of blowing sand, our whole place was covered with small sand hills from two to four feet deep. More seed had to be purchased, the land tilled and cultivated over and over to work the sand in so it could be planted again. That summer and the summer thereafter crops were late and there was almost no rain and very little irrigation water. The great depression hit the country about that time. We found out later that the sand knoll which was about 1/2 miles North East of us had once been on our farm. The wind was moving it slowly but steadily along. Today, 55 years later, it has crossed and buried roads, fences, houses, (unless they were moved) everything in its path of about 1/2 miles wide and has traveled almost eight miles North of where it was when I was a little girl.
Ours was a musical family, and some of the loveliest memories of my childhood are of our musical family home evenings. Dad was a fine musician, playing several band instruments, but his first love was the violin and he was very good at it. His talent was recognized throughout the valley and he was called on to perform on many occasions. Ireta had a piano teacher, but she often said she learned more from Dad tapping her on the head with his violin bow when she made a mistake. I had the same experience as I struggled to learn to play the violin. Our evenings, especially in winter, were spent first with school lessons, then with our music. Ireta on the piano, Dad doing a professional performance on the violin and me hitting the right notes as often as possible. Then we had a singing time, when everyone joined in. Mother had a beautiful alto voice, and little Emma was learning from her. After that Mother picked up her mending basket and Dad read aloud from a favorite book. “The Sheppard of the Hills,” and “East Lynn,” are two I remember. How proud I was when Dad bought a simple violin duet and I played my own part while he played his.
My hair by this time was a soft brown with red high lights, not too bad, but oh how I wished my eyes would turn brown so I’d really belong.
School days at Taylor were fairly normal. Here we had a bigger two roomed school house. During the good weather we walked the mile and a half gathering up other students as we were the last family from that end of the district. If the weather was bad, Dad took us in the family Flevver (Ford car) or a team and sleigh. I had many good friends at Taylor. We even had a baseball team and: held competition with the neighboring schools. Those were the good old days when girls and boys were all allowed to play on the same team.
There were also a few boyfriends, Percy and Parley were always there. They were nice boys but I liked Kenneth and he didn’t know I existed. Then there was Cliff who was fun to be with but he met a girl at a carnival and eloped within 48 hours. My parents were very relieved and delighted.
In those days many young people dropped out of school as they finished the 8th grade. High School was at Idaho Falls, six miles away, and no bus service. It was too expensive for most to live in town and pay board and room. Ireta found a place where she worked for board and room and went to school, too. Dr. and Mrs. Bybee were very fond of Ireta and things went well for her. Two years later when I was ready for High School, it seemed only natural that I should take her place at the Bybees since Ireta had married. My very first day, I came down with the flu and was so thoroughly miserable. I tried to pretend I felt fine but at the end of the week, Mrs. Bybee told me that she needed an older girl who could spend more hours working at their home. I was completely devastated, heartbroken,
and angry. They had liked Ireta so much and I had been a complete failure. After all, she could have given me a little more time to prove myself. I went home and put an ad in the paper and helped in the potato harvest where I was badly needed. In about two weeks a Mrs. Reed called to offer me a dollar and a half a week plus room and board and school. I had failed once, would it happen again?
They were very nice people, very rich by my standards, with a beautiful home. The first afternoon I did the cleaning jobs she had outlined for me then was told to set the dining room table for five, complete with beautiful linen cloth and china and linen napkins. Everything seemed so beautiful but I was to set five places. They had three children so apparently he wasn’t going to be there for dinner. Then he came in and Mrs. Reed said to me, “You may set your place here on the kitchen counter and serve yourself from the bowls left on the stove.” I was stunned! Surely I hadn’t heard right...to eat in the kitchen! I was shocked and angry. They might have money but I wasn’t their slave. It was embarrassing to sit alone. I ate very little because I couldn’t swallow.
I was very surprised, however, when at the end of about three days, I felt very comfortable at my lonely station and actually preferred it. I realized, too, that it was time when they needed their privacy as a family and everyone was happy with the arrangement.
As the end of the week approached, I felt sick with worry. “Would I be a failure again, as I had at the Bybees.” What a relief I felt when at the end of the week, Mrs. Reed said, “I have been so pleased with your work and the way you get along with the children that I want you to have three dollars and I will be looking forward to you being back on Monday morning. I had redeemed myself. Now I could hold up my head again.
That school year was nearly over when the Reed’s business took them to California but she recommended me to a friend, another very nice family, the Clevengers. I collected my three dollars a week for two and one half years, then another while I worked at Woolworth’s Store and made about $12.50 a week plus the three I was still getting from the Clevengers. I was rich.
My two school families were just wonderful and I learned a great deal from them both. My after school duties taught me to get along with people, to be dependable, to do a little more than J was required but I also learned more about household work and what it takes to make a home.
The Clevengers lived just across the street from a beautiful enclosed swimming pool. They hired an instructor for their children and invited me to swim with them three mornings a week and observe as their children were taught to swim. It was great fun and I soon learned many swimming strokes arid have enjoyed swimming all my life. Toward the end of these swimming sessions their little six year old girl was accidently left in the pool alone while we all went to dress. I just happened to hear her gasp, and screaming for help as loud as I could, I jumped in and managed to hold her head above water and get to the edge of the pool as help came.
When my brother Horace returned from his mission to Mexico, he was very fluent in the Spanish language so he was immediately hired by the Utah Idaho Sugar Company as an interpreter for the Mexican workers in the sugar beet fields. It was not long until he was married to Lavon Bollwinkle, a lovely girl from Grace. My parents had a new car a beautiful Hudson, so we decided to drive to Grace for a visit. (About 100 miles) Everything went fine until we reached Bancroft which is fifteen miles from Grace. Something went wrong with our car and no mechanic could be found to help. Someone could have fixed the flivver but not this beautiful Hudson. We sat and waited for help. I then decided to walk around looked at what I thought was such a dismal, little town. Several business establishments strangely looking quite prosperous, a very few scraggly trees, a few burnt up lawns (it was late August) . I couldn’t find a flower anywhere. The only attraction, as far as I could see, was a huge wooden watering trough and hitching post right in the very center of Bancroft’s main street where the main highway intersected it. If I remember right I said, “You couldn’t pay me enough to live in this town.” Those words come back to haunt me.
That fall my brother needed someone to weigh beets at the weigh station in Grace. I was glad when he gave me the opportunity. I had decided to take my senior high school year at the B.Y. College, a junior college and an affiliate of the B.Y.U. at Provo.
I had only been in my little office at the weigh station a few days when a young, nice looking man came in with a team and load of beets. I weighed the load and he went on to have the other fellows help dump the beets into the train car. In just a few minutes he came back and as he passed the big window he seemed to be staring at me, and I was a little annoyed and decided to be very cool. He tried to make conversation for a few minutes then said, “I’m Joe Lloyd, I live here in Grace and would you like to go to the dance with me this Friday?” I was still playing it cool so I said, “I don’t go out with fellows I don’t know.” He should have gone out and slammed the door, instead he was such a gentleman, he said, “I’d be glad to have you ask anyone about me, the Bishop or someone.” I said, “Well, I’ll have to talk to my big brother about it.” After a few minutes, he left and I didn’t know if I had a date or not. However, I did ask my big brother and he said, “There’s no one I’d rather trust you with than Joe Lloyd. I dressed for the dance and he came and we had a wonderful time. In those days a boy danced with his date two or three times, then brought friends and we exchanged dances a few times, then with or own date and so on. The orchestra played “Moonlight and Roses,”&”Bye, Bye Black Bird.” He was a perfect gentleman, We held hands for the four blocks it took to get home, and that’s how it started. We dated two or three times a week until my job was finished and I went to school at Logan.
I had a little money saved up and was able to find a lovely little elderly lady who ran a boarding house. She had one huge room upstairs. There were three beds already there. She put in one more and that was mine. She was a wonderful cook, and the three girls I roomed with were all lovely girls. One bathroom downstairs served the whole household, including her two daughters. We had some wonderful times together.
Joe’s grandparents lived in Logan, so he came to Logan about once a month that winter. We continued to correspond that next summer as I worked at the Woolworth Store. He came to Idaho Falls as often as possible and always brought me a box of Cherry Chocolates. So romantic. The country was deep in depression but we were tired of corresponding, infrequent visits and so we set our wedding date for November 16, 1927, in the Logan Temple.
Joe’s father had recently bought a big ranch and with their oldest son, Lyman, on a mission, Joe was needed to help run the ranch. There were four other brothers but the oldest was only fourteen, It was decided that Joe and I would live in little house about 50 yards from their big house. We were to get 1/5 of all profit and increase. Many people, including Joe’s relatives, tried to advise us not to go into this arrangement. My parents were not happy about it, but they liked Joe and because of the depression could offer us nothing better. We argued that we both knew how to work hard, could get along with very little money, and would do everything we could to be congenial and co-operate.
Two wonderful things happened during the next four years. We were blessed with the most perfect little boy in the world. We called him, Keith. Then, two years later, a darling little girl we named Joan. Both were born in our little house assisted by Grandmother Lloyd, as midwife and she was wonderful.
The in between times of’ that four years are best forgotten. We left with a few pieces of 2nd hand furniture, two cows, and an old worn-out pickup truck, and the clothes on our back. At least we had the satisfaction of knowing that we had done our best.
We rented a place at Lund for two years. A small herd of milk cows went with the place and our share of the cream check made it possible to have a few dimes in our pocket that we didn’t have to ask for. Our share of two years of good crops made us feel great. Another beautiful baby joined our family, a little girl we named, Pauline.
JoAnn & Pauline at the Ranch | |
Then we heard of a ranch for sale one and a half miles from Bancroft. The terms were almost made for us, $250.00 down and $10.00 a month until such time that we could pay more. The total cost was $1040.00. It was about March 5, 1936. We left our three little ones with friends and drove as near as we could to the little lane that turned West from the Bancroft Lund Road. The snow was
untouched except for rabbit tracks and we walked
through snow about three feet deep for a mile and a half. Sometimes we stayed on top, more often we fell through. The ranch was beautiful, so white and clean looking. A fairly steep hill about 200 yards West from the house was covered with pine, quaking Aspen, and shrubbery. Behind the house was a good sized piece of cultivated land with more pine and other trees in the distance. To the East we could look down at the little town of Bancroft. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of the unkind remarks I had made about Bancroft eight years earlier.
There was a small four roomed house that had been constructed so that both bedrooms were built into the hillside with high narrow windows. The two front rooms were fairly large with good windows and a screen porch all the way across the front and side. There was a rock fence in front of the house. We built a fire in the small stove that was left there and ate the lunch we had brought. We talked it over and decided this was it.
We sold cows and some hay for our down payment, then waited for the snow to melt so that we could go home. The Millers, who owned the ranch, were an elderly German couple and their small horseradish business went along with the deal. The roots had to be dug in the fall and stored in a cool place, then cleaned well and scraped until nice and white. They were then put through a huge grinder, 100% white vinegar and sugar added, put into jars from 1/2 pint to a gallon (for cafes) and every two weeks Joe would go to Pocatello and sell horseradish. The old German couple who sold us the ranch had already established a pretty good clientele so much of it was just delivering orders and even though Joe didn’t like doing the selling part, he worked hard and did a good job a salesman. As Joe developed confidence he found new customers and our little business grew and we felt very blessed to have a little money to spend carefully.
We had wonderful friends who helped us get a start with sheep and a few more cows were bought on credit and we were able to pay the $10.00 a month to the Millers and in two years we were able to pay the balance off in full. When Joe had an extra day he worked where he could, often in the hay fields. It was hard work and the pay was $2.00 a day. As Keith grew a little older, he drove derrick horse all day in the hot sun for $.25 a day. We raised baby chicks by the hundred every spring, baby pigs, baby lambs and baby calves. Things were really looking up. We all loved the ranch and we loved to roam the wooded areas, gather wild flowers, pretty rock, and we loved the stillness broken only by the singing of birds. In the winter it was like a Christmas picture card. Very little wind left the snow on the shrubs and it was beautiful.
We had always felt perfectly safe in the hills until one morning on a day that Joe had left to go to Pocatello to sell horseradish. The children and I decided to go a little farther than usual to a heavily wooded area where we had seen wild blueberries. We had only started to fill our baskets when I had a sudden strange feeling of fear. I stood up and looked all around, listened a few moments and began picking berries again. This time it was a feeling of absolute terror. It was as if somebody said to me, ‘Get these children out of here, Now!’ In seconds we were out of there. The children protesting every Step of the way while I kept them running and making excuses for our unexpected exit. “I had forgotten to water the chickens, I needed to bake bread, and so on.’ I didn’t want to frighten them about our beautiful hills but the next day when I felt more calm it was a good opportunity to caution them about a few things, and more important to teach them to listen to that still small voice that seemed to shout at me that day. Even today, I remember the terror I felt that day and I am thankful that I had been taught to listen to the still small voice.
Joe’s parents had nine children and their 4th child, a boy named Alton, had a very serious illness when nine months old which was never really diagnosed by the Doctors. It left him slightly retarded, slow in movement, and always very tired. His father just could not accept this weakness in his family. When we were first married I felt that Alton needed special loving attention and patience. He was about eight at the time. He spent a good deal of time in our home. When we left the Idaho ranch after four years and went to our rented place at Lund, Grandpa and Grandma brought Alton and said he wanted to do us a favor and would let Alton live with us and help with the chores. We didn’t need the help of course, but we knew Alton was happier with us, away from his rough and tumble brothers. He lived with us two years at Lund and then when we went to the Miller ranch Grandpa and Alton appeared one day with a herd of about 75 sheep. Grandpa said our land would improve from being grazed and Alton could herd them off the cultivated land in crop. Keith and I and Alton herded the sheep. I did the washing on a wash board and bought new clothes for him when he needed them. Alton was patient and good but just not strong enough to do any kind of work. He was about 17 at the end of the 2nd summer at the ranch. Our children were a little older and could stay alone for short periods of time but questions began to come up about a situation of this kind. We felt it was time that Alton lived with his own family. We also told Grandpa , “No more free grazing.” Alton spent most of the rest of his life in an institution and died about the age of thirty-five. As he left I felt saddened, relieved, guilty, and yes, a little mad but not at Alton.
Pauline was only four when I began to have serious health problems which eventually lead to major surgery. The Doctor told us that I was a very poor risk for surgery but there was no other way. Of Course, I was terribly distressed what might happen to my little family if they were left motherless. I spent a week in the hospital with a special diet and care to build up my strength. At the end of that time I was administered to and felt very confident about getting well. On the morning of the surgery my parents came, also Joe’s parents and of course, Joe. The Doctor told them that the surgery had gone well. Now it was a matter of my strength and determination. I don’t remember much of that day except that late in the afternoon my Mother leaned near me and said she had asked for permission to stay with me all night but was told it would be better that she didn’t. I remember telling her that I knew she was tired and needed her rest and that I was sure I’d be alright. During the night I began to be in terrible pain and had difficulty breathing. I was able to put my light on and the nurse came in and said she would call the Doctor for orders. I was not scheduled for any medication for two hours. I had felt so confident about getting better and now I knew I was in serious trouble. How I prayed that I would be able to keep breathing and endure the pain. Then, as I looked at the chair where my mother sat during most of that long day, I was surprised to see her sitting there again. Suddenly, I could breathe and felt almost free of pain. I said, “Oh, Mother, I’m so glad you stayed after all.” As I spoke the chair was empty and I was gasping for breath again. This happened exactly the same way twice. Then I realized that as I spoke the chair was empty so when in a few seconds she seemed to be there again, said nothing. I could breathe without difficulty and the pain was bearable . I lay very still and as I looked at the chair I knew that someone was there sitting in the chair but it was not my mother. It was my mother’s mother who had died before I was born. Her picture had hung on our living room wall all the time I was growing up and as she sat in the chair by my bed she looked exactly as she did in the old familiar picture. It seemed a long time that I watched her and thought of the stories my mother told me about her. I felt at peace and free of any problems. At last the light was flipped on and the Doctor and Nurse came in. At once the chair was empty and the pain and breathing difficulty back. However, the Doctor was able to give me some medication and help. After fourteen days I was released and went to stay with Grandma Lloyd for a few days. Then, how good it was to be back at the ranch with my family again. Grandma Lloyd had helped Joe look after the children while I was gone taking in meals and cookies and even saved the pony from bleeding to death after a wire cut by putting a flour and water poultice to stop the bleeding.
In order to tell of another incident very important to me, I must go back in my story a few years. When Joe and I were married and lived on the Idaho ranch in our own little house near Grandpa and Grandma Lloyd. This was a sheep and cattle ranch. I was anxious to do my share so offered to feed the little orphan lambs. Sometimes the mother lamb would not own or feed her own lambs so they had to be bottle fed for several days. It was a disagreeable and messy job but I wanted to help and hadn’t realized that I was getting into serious trouble with allergies from handling the lambs. This condition gradually became worse and continued after we bought our ranch and had sheep of our own. At that time the Doctors did little to help. I had severe asthma attacks that gradually became almost constant. We had been at the ranch about two years when I was asked to teach the Trekker class in Primary. I told the Bishop I couldn’t promise to be dependable because of the frequent asthma attacks. He said he knew I had a problem he would like me to think about it and pray about it and attend the Primary Teacher’s Leadership meeting later that week. Then, Sister Myrtle Call, who was Primary President, asked me to come to the Leadership meeting and be prepared to give my favorite scripture. As I looked through my Book of Mormon for a scripture the book fell open at 1st Nephi where it says, I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.’ It seemed like the right scripture and I had always felt its importance but I thought at least half of the ladies there would use the same one, so I continued to study and find another verse that had special meaning for me. I could find nothing that would take the place of Nephi’s words so that was my scripture for the evening. I was the only one who used it and it came to have scripture certainly came true in my behalf. I worked hard at preparing my lessons and, in spite of bad asthma attacks continuing, on Primary day I would almost always be able to go and teach my class of boys, this scripture became a source of strength to me in my Church assignments. If I did my part to the best of my ability, the Lord made it possible for me to accomplish what I needed to do. A lovely lady who had been on the General Sunday School board, Kathryn Gilbert, moved into our community just for the summer and I was lucky enough to have her as my “Assistant” in the Primary. She was fantastic and at the end of the summer, I almost felt that I had a degree in Child physiology.
The asthma attacks grew much worse. I spent many nights sitting up in a chair so I could breathe just enough to stay alive. Many days I didn’t have breath to walk across the floor. The Doctors seemed vague about the treatment and could offer little help. There were short periods of time when I was better but the bad times were more and more frequent. The only medicine that helped was a strong sedative prescribed by Dr. Kackley at Soda. At night when my little ones were safely in bed, a teaspoon of it would put me right to sleep. In the daytime, however, when I was alone with the children it did the same thing, so I wouldn’t take it. One day, however, I was so desperate that I took a small dose. I instructed the children (about 6, 4, and 1) to stay and play right by my bed. I can still hear Keith as he called over and over, “Mama, Mama, wake up! The baby fell and is hurt.” I could hear Keith and could also hear Pauline crying but couldn’t come to and get up. The medicine was saved for nighttime after that.
We seemed to outgrow the Horseradish business as time went on. We found that growing the roots was too slow and we were able to buy them by the hundred weight much cheaper, but the 2nd World War was on and sugar was rationed and the freight on bottles increased in cost so rapidly that it was impractical to continue. However, our need for this income was past and we gradually grew in prosperity. The Millers were all paid off and we had purchased other land which joined our original holdings.
We always felt very fortunate with our little family. They seemed happy, active, well adjusted children and except for the usual emergencies all went well. However, our little family of three had to walk a mile and 1/2 to get to the bus line. Our mountain road was not kept open so it was necessary to use a team and sleigh for transportation on a cold day. Also, we found out that one morning when all three of our children were riding Keith’s bike, the chain came off. Who knows how fast they traveled until they turned the last bend, crossed the canal bridge and gradually slowed on the last 1/8 of a mile before the highway. Shortly after this, Joe found winter work at the railroad coal chute so we bought a house just outside of Bancroft to live in during the winter months. By this time we had a tractor with much more land under cultivation and had bought another ranch close by. His work was from 9 P.M. until 7:00 A.M. They spent most of the time in a warm little room rolled up in bed rolls. In this way Joe was able to put in almost as many daylight hours working at home as before.
I was never nervous when alone at the ranch all day, but oh, how I longed for a neighbor. There was a nice breaded man who lived about 1 mile farther up the road. He often came in with a nice big fish and usually went away with a loaf of bread or cookies. His story was quite romantic. He had come from Germany with our friends, the Millers. They had promised him one of their daughters when she was old enough to marry. After eight years growing up in America, she had different ideas. I really tried to help him find someone else but it didn’t work.
Keith tried to grow up too fast. When he was 12 he stood on a box and harnessed a team, hitched them to the wagon and came to the house to announce that he was going back in the hills for a load of wood. Joe was away for the day. I objected strenuously and told him to take the team back immediately. He was just as determined as I was. I had been out of the hospital after the major surgery only a few days and was supposed to keep very quiet. He won out, but I wouldn’t let him go alone. I went with him. We had a nice load of wood when Joe came home. It was only a few days later that Joe and Keith were both away and Joan, Pauline and I were to herd the sheep when suddenly I realized a quick summer storm was brewing with thunder and lightning. I walked a little ways to see the girls and the sheep. I was horrified to see that the sheep were traveling fast and almost to the top of the hill where they would mingle with a larger hear of sheep, over a thousand, that belonged to our neighbor. I couldn’t ride a horse, but I sent Joan crying and afraid to go and turn the sheep back. She had the sheep back before the rain but, I decided then that the sheep could mingle but I’d never send a frightened crying little girl to the rescue again.
Then there was the time when we lost Pauline when she was about five years old. We all looked frantically and it took a lot of courage to look down the cistern. During this time Pauline sat at the top of a hill watching for a little friend whose mother was bringing her to play.
Asthma seemed to be my constant companion. Allergy tests showed that I was allergic to almost everything. Joe was told by two doctors that unless he wanted to raise his children alone he would have to get me out of the country, away from animals of any kind. This was such a disappointment. The biggest part of our living came from our livestock which we had been so diligently collecting. My parents had recently passed away and their beautiful home in Idaho Falls was made available. Two unmarried sisters, Ida and Marge, lived there but both had jobs and would welcome a cook, housekeeper, a snow shoveler, and car starter on cold mornings. Keith was going to school at Ricks College, JoAnn was living at the Nurses Home while in training, and Pauline was in Junior High. Joe found work in the potato cellars . It was a miracle, I could breathe again! We enjoyed Ida and Marge and I think they enjoyed us there also. We sold our livestock, even gave away our dear old sheep dog, “Nig”. Even today, I never touch an animal if I can help it. We spent that summer in our little house in Bancroft and went back to Idaho Falls for the winter. With the sale of the livestock, we bought a tractor and bull dozer and cleared and planted a much greater acreage of land. The loss of income from the livestock was hardly noticed and most of the time I was free from asthma.
The years seemed to pass so quickly. Keith had spent two winters at Ricks, one at Idaho State learning mechanics, then a quarter at the “Y where he found Ella. They were married in October 1951 and needed a home, so we bought a bigger home in Bancroft and left our small home to them. Joan had graduated from Nurses Training and married a fine young returned missionary. Pauline had two years at Ricks and was engaged to another fine young returned missionary.
How our lives changed during that time. What a joy it was to welcome our first grandchild. JoAnn and Stan’s baby boy, Reed. It was hard to see them leave and make their own home in California where Stan could go to school and develop his talent in art. Today we are proud of him as a successful draftsman and artist. They spent fifteen years in southern California and each year we would spend two or three weeks with them and they spent their summer vacations with us.
Our grandchildren were always so welcome and so special to us. We were happy to have a bigger home and a lovely backyard and patio. We didn’t wait for special occasions to enjoy a patio dinner or supper. It was fun to keep the cookie jar full and the orange rolls were made by the dozens. I had never known a grandparent as a child and I felt cheated so tried to make it up by being a good Grandma. I enjoyed every minute of it. Each grandchild is very special and dear to me.
When we moved into the new home with space for flowers, I really indulged myself. Flowers have always been an important part of my life. My love for them started as a child when I picked wild flowers and as I helped my mother in her flower garden. The flower starts people gave me were like old friends and I enjoyed giving mine as well. I began to read everything I could about flower arranging just for my own enjoyment. Soon I was asked to make floral arrangements for special occasions even for a few weddings and always two big baskets and a table arrangement for the 24th of July celebration for over twenty-five years. I am always surprised but happy to be asked to furnish flowers for a special occasion.
Music has always been an important part of my life. Playing the violin with my Dad and singing duets with my sister, Emma, for programs was part of my teen years. Many years later when Joan and Pauline were about 12 and 9 they were often called on to sing for a program number and I often accompanied them on the violin. They had very sweet voices. About that time Ramona came to Bancroft to teach school and married Hyrum McLain. We became friends and since she was a violinist we began playing duets together for weddings, funerals, and other special occasions. In the past year I have enjoyed playing duets with Kayleen. I play the violin and she the flute. I also have sung as an alto in the choir for many years and also enjoyed singing in the Singing Mothers Chorus. It was exciting to be able to sing on two different occasions in the tabernacle in Salt Lake City. Another pleasure I have enjoyed was to be able to sing alto to Pauline’s lovely, true soprano voice.
We were able to take some wonderful trips. We have visited the Holy Land at a Bible Study Tour, and Mexico on a Book of Mormon tour. We have visited Canada, Hawaii, and many points of interest in the States. A very special trip was with Pauline and Reed and their family to Austria when Kerry was released from his mission there. We were able to visit Austria, Switzerland and Italy.
The Church has always been a very important part of our lives. Joe and I both grew up in a home where the father and mother was Bishop and Relief Society president for most of our teen years. Our religion and moral values were the same.
During those early days at the ranch, I remember feeling that my life was very monotonous, a continuous routine of cleaning horseradish roots, washing, ironing, cooking, sewing, feeding chickens, etc. I decided I had to do something special. Since eggs were cheap and plentiful, I began making angel food cakes. It was fun to take a birthday cake to someone or in a time of sorrow to take a cake. As fair time approached, a friend insisted that I enter a cake in the fair. I was reluctant but did as she asked and was surprised and happy to win sweepstake in the division. For three consecutive years I won the sweepstake. What a boost it was to my morale, especially when I was asked to demonstrate my technique for several clubs and was asked to make cakes for special occasions.
One rainy afternoon, on Feb. 13, 1963, I noticed the empty lot across the alley from our house was a sheet of water. Later, I saw the water cross the ally road and begin to creep onto our back lawn. I began to worry that a little water might get into our basement so I called Joe, who was working at Keith’s, to come home and see what could be done. They both came immediately, but there was little that could be done. The snow was deep that year and the ground was frozen underneath. During the unseasonably warm weather, the snow melted and just ran over the frozen earth into Bancroft. We hadn’t realized that Bancroft was lower than the surrounding area. Since the ground was frozen so hard there was no way to get sand bags. The next best thing was bales of straw. By this time it was dark and still raining. A little trickle of water was soon a small stream pouring into our basement. Keith brought his tractor and a pump but we still couldn’t believe we would need it. However, we began getting everything we could out of the basement our food storage, two mattresses and bedding. We moved everything that was moveable. The furnace, water heater and softener were left and all through that long night, every hour, Keith started the tractor and pumped out the water trying to save these items. It was a losing battle and by four o’clock a.m. the pump was useless. What a bleak Sunday morning it was. Looking out the window, it seemed that our house was sitting in the middle of a lake. There was no heat and the water had almost reached the top of our basement stairs.
We began stacking things upstairs as best we could when we heard someone speaking for the mayor from a motorboat telling everyone that they were to leave their homes and go to the school house or another safe place. A motor boat soon arrived at the back steps which were by this time covered with water. It was a terrible feeling to abandon our lovely home. We did not know that the water had at last reached its peak and the upstairs was never damaged. I spent the rest of that day and night at Pauline’s. Keith and Joe began the pumping immediately and ours was the first basement pumped out and then they joined others in pumping out the basements in town. Because our basement was completely emptied before the water came in it was quickly pumped out and although the wood paneling was slightly warped in places, we felt really blessed. Other people who had years of storage were not so fortunate. Water soaked mattresses and pillows were unbelievable heavy.
People who were out of the flood area were wonderful to come and help in the clean-up. It had been such a traumatic experience that I needed to work hard to cope with it so I went with my bucket and cleaning cloths to help clean for widows or older people who had no family near, by. Although our home was fully insured it was a disappointment to find out that it was not covered for a flood which was an act of nature. I was soon joined by four or five other women and we called ourselves the “Bucket Brigade”. As the men removed the heavy damaged rugs, furniture, etc, we went in for the final clean--up. We worked hard at this for about ten days. It was good therapy for me and very rewarding.
It was hard to believe it could happen to us twice but the next year the same thing happened and we went through it all again. This time with an added worry. Keith and Ella were expecting their fourth child and the road was washed out between Lava and Pocatello. However, with the assistance of a tractor and a police car waiting on the other side, they made it just in time for little Ben’s arrival. Since that time a great deal of flood control has been done on the outskirts of town as well as a tunnel under the railroad to let the water flow under the tracks and on to open fields east of town.
In 1978 we were called to go on a six month mission to the Virginia Roanoke mission. I was concerned about my ability to study and read as much as I should. I had been told that I had an eye condition, deterioration of the retina, for which there is no prevention or cure. With the use of a magnifying glass, I was able to get along pretty well. We bought a new car and Reed and Pauline went with us as far as Roanoke. Our assignment was at Franklin, 200 miles farther on. Although we went with doubts and misgivings concerning our ability to teach the gospel to others, we soon made friends in and out of the Church. Our mission president had set the goal of one baptism a month and we met that challenge when Joe baptized our sixth convert shortly before we came home. We felt honored when President Monson and our missionary supervisor complimented us on our work and asked us to stay longer. We promised to think about it and make it a matter of prayer. Shortly after that Joe had what the Dr. called a slight stroke and spent a day and night n the hospital. That seemed to be our answer. He was almost 77 and I was 73 and we were a long way from family and home. It was a wonderful experience and so hard to say good-bye to the special friends in the branch and other friends we had made. Again our family came to our aid. Keith and Ella came out to help us drive home.
A few months after our return from Virginia, my sister, Ida, who was a widow with no children, was told by her doctor that she had cancer. He said she had eight months to live without chemotherapy and a few more months with it. After two treatments she said, “No more”. We asked her to come and spend those remaining months with us. She was an artist with great talent and our homes were all decorated with her beautiful pictures. She wanted desperately to paint one more picture. It was to be a white bowl filled with pink roses. Almost every day for a few weeks, she tried to paint a little but was exhausted after a few minutes. The picture was never finished. It was so hard to see her waste away and grow weaker. About six weeks before her death the Dr. and Ida insisted she must go to a nursing home. I appreciated Joe all through this sad time. He was so thoughtful and sweet with her. He did everything he could for her comfort and let her know that she was loved and wanted in our home.
When the call came to work in the Logan Temple, we were both happy and humbled. We spent two days a week for about eighteen months in the temple. It was a lovely, spiritual experience in our lives. We met many wonderful people and came to love them almost as family.
When we began to plan an extensive paint and wallpaper job throughout the house, Keith and Ella suggested that we think of buying a new pre-built home and moving out of town near them. We both felt fine but realized that we would probably need more help as the years went by. It was hard to think of leaving our home we had enjoyed so much but we decided it would be best for everyone if we were a little nearer family and help if we needed it. About three weeks before we were to move into our new home Joe, who had been doing a great deal of reading began to complain that he was having difficulty reading. I had already been concerned about him driving to the temple after some near accidents we had had. He went to an optometrist who sent him to an ophthalmologist who finally sent him to a neurologist. After many x rays and tests of all kinds, we were shocked to have the Doctor show us x ray pictures of a large tumor of the brain which was pressing on the optic nerve, and would cause total blindness in a few weeks. There was no way of knowing what other complications would follow as the tumor grew. The Dr. also said he had the healthy body of a much younger man and had every chance of a good recovery after surgery. It was a terrible thing to think of, not to mention make a decision about. Joe seemed not to have any decision to make. He said, “I have no choice, it has to be done.” All of the family came and he was administered to. Stan gave him a wonderful blessing and I think we all felt better about it.
The surgery took place two days later, it took eight long hours. When the Dr. came to us he said everything went well. He expected a complete recovery. Joe never regained consciousness. He remained in a deep coma for fifty nine days before pneumonia set in and took his life.
I am so thankful we had three months together in the new house. I don’t know how I could have made the move alone. For two years I lived in a void of loneliness and despair of my failing eye sight. I tried to avoid being with people or going anywhere. My children and Grandchildren were all just wonderful during this time, trying in every way possible to show their love and concern.
Lillis at about 85 years young | |
I found that counting my blessings was a source of comfort and strength for me. I am still counting and so thankful for many things. I was blessed with a loving companion for nearly fifty six years. I have loving caring children who have choice companions. I count them as six instead of three. I have fourteen wonderful grandchildren, each very special in his or her own way. I love them very much and am proud of the way they conduct their lives. At this time there are twenty six precious great grandchildren. Very special friends make it possible for me to go to the temple frequently and attend a few social functions that I enjoy. Because of Grandpa, I have a comfortable home and financial security. I am thankful for the many blessings the gospel has brought into my life and the faith I have that I
will be with Grandpa again someday and that we will not
only be a loving family here but an eternal family as well. It is my constant prayer that my life and the lives of my dear ones will always be directed toward that eternal goal.
