Much of My Life has been centered around a beautiful piece of Arizona called Round Valley. That is the spot where my life began. Mother's folks lived there. Dad was the Principal of the High School. They courted there and then traveled to Salt Lake to be married in the Temple. As a natural result, I began my journey on Earth in Eager. I don't know what happened to get me down to Mesa for my birth, as I am quite sure Mother would rather have been with her Mother and other loved ones for that event. Shortly after, I was taken back to Eager for a joyful showing to all, as the first child and the first Grand Child in the Family. My Eager was a small Mormon community nestled in the White Mountains. The elevation is around seven thousand feet, so the summers are cool and just about perfect with the smells of a sawmill and wood smoke in the air. The community streets lined with Cottonwood and Poplar trees. Nearly every home had an orchard of apple trees which, if the early frost didn't get them, produced delicious apples of every kind. Also, around every home can be found a well for household water, plenty of happy kids, and chicken's scratching around for bugs and other chicken delights. There were also barns with hay, a cow shed with at least one family milk cow, and assorted other out buildings.
It was a wonderful place for a child to grow up. The kids always had plenty of chores, which included driving the cows down the hill to the community pasture, in the mornings, and bring them home in the evenings. There was always a garden to be weeded, wood to be cut, and kindling to be gathered. The wood box next to the family cook stove had to be filled, the cow milked and chickens taken care of. But, as kids always do, we could find plenty of time for play. An egg, found in the barn and taken to the store, would buy a nickels worth of candy. I remember a childhood filled with good things, exciting things. Like laying in a big, many blanketed bed in our little home in Eager and listening every night to the coyotes crying on the rodeo hill back behind the house. Playing in the Bishop's store house, the barn, in the hay, and setting up a fort in an old abandoned cabin in a field of sunflowers and preparing for battle with a neighborhood band of boys using flippers, bows, arrows, and B.B. guns. The battles were furious, but somehow on one was every seriously hurt. I remember taking my 22 riffles, my bicycle, some blankets, and my old dog and heading down Extension Road in Mesa out to the old powerhouse. Thee was nothing but desert there then, and camping out overnight. About 3a.m. some noise in the underbrush scared me so bad that I started firing my 22 wildly into the trees, I found out the next day that it was just a bunch of horses and I don't know if I hit anyone of them or not. (NO DEAD HORSES)
It was a wonderful place for a child to grow up. The kids always had plenty of chores, which included driving the cows down the hill to the community pasture, in the mornings, and bring them home in the evenings. There was always a garden to be weeded, wood to be cut, and kindling to be gathered. The wood box next to the family cook stove had to be filled, the cow milked and chickens taken care of. But, as kids always do, we could find plenty of time for play. An egg, found in the barn and taken to the store, would buy a nickels worth of candy. I remember a childhood filled with good things, exciting things. Like laying in a big, many blanketed bed in our little home in Eager and listening every night to the coyotes crying on the rodeo hill back behind the house. Playing in the Bishop's store house, the barn, in the hay, and setting up a fort in an old abandoned cabin in a field of sunflowers and preparing for battle with a neighborhood band of boys using flippers, bows, arrows, and B.B. guns. The battles were furious, but somehow on one was every seriously hurt. I remember taking my 22 riffles, my bicycle, some blankets, and my old dog and heading down Extension Road in Mesa out to the old powerhouse. Thee was nothing but desert there then, and camping out overnight. About 3a.m. some noise in the underbrush scared me so bad that I started firing my 22 wildly into the trees, I found out the next day that it was just a bunch of horses and I don't know if I hit anyone of them or not. (NO DEAD HORSES)
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