41. I don’t know why, but I was the only one who school-hopped my first few years of grade school. I went to Washington for first grade, Chico for second grade, then I joined my siblings at Marion in third grade. Another girl and I were at the top of the class that year. That was fun. She was moved ahead to the next grade, but I wasn’t. I didn’t really mind, though I missed her friendship. Somehow I knew it was best.
42. Every summer growing up we took a family vacation. Most of the time my mother drove with eight small children and without Dad, with no disposable diapers or other modern conveniences. Once every few years we would go to California and Disneyland, but most often we headed for Utah. In the days before freeways, air conditioning and seatbelts, we would lay every direction in the station wagon, our feet and arms hanging out the windows. We would read or sing, sleep or play travel bingo or other games. Even with the Burma Shave signs the trips seemed interminable as we counted mile markers to each town.
43. Many summers we stayed at my Uncle Carmi’s farm in Tremonton, Utah, which was pure delight for us city children. I loved their little farm house, the sights and smells of the farm, the summer lightening storms. I have memories of milking cows and drinking their warm milk, playing in the hay in the loft, my uncle holding me in his lap and letting me drive the tractor (not very well), getting food from the underground fruit cellar, and playing endless games on the farm. We loved the old pump organ that was stashed in the barn. All my life I have been grateful for my experiences on the farm, and with my salt-of-the-earth aunt and uncle.
44. Every two or three years my paternal grandparents, Wilford and Josephine Spilsbury Bramwell, held a 3-day family reunion in Utah. One day was spent at Lagoon where we swam and rode rides all day. I loved the fun house! They always had a catered lunch and a program. Another day we dressed up for a nice restaurant dinner and went to Liberty Park for pictures. The third day we went to Ogden canyon to fish at a hatchery, picnic and play ball. I grew up knowing all my 60 or so relatives on my Dad’s side.
45. Sometimes for our Bramwell reunions we stayed in adjoining rooms at Scotty’s Motel on west North Temple. It had a deep swimming pool and a kiddie pool, with a tall water slide between them (for looks only) and life-size characters from Snow White. One day when I was still little, I wondered if I could touch the bottom of the deep end. I climbed down the ladder near the diving board and propelled myself to the bottom. I touched! But when I tried to come up it was much farther, and though I thrashed and paddled, I couldn’t find the surface. I was just beginning to panic when my older brother saw me and yelled at someone to grab me. I think it was Jane who pulled me to the top so I could breathe. I was very grateful to be saved from my stupidity, and humbly returned to the kiddie pool.
46. My baby sister Rhonda was born at Harrison Memorial Hospital, just down the street from Marion Elementary. One day we were allowed to run down to the hospital during school hours and talk to my mother from outdoors though the window. We were so excited for a new baby sister, and adored her.
47. My senior year in high school somehow I was elected president of the Chamber of Commerce, which put me in charge of Homecoming. On the night they crowned the homecoming queen, a teacher and I were the only ones who knew who it was. The lights were turned down, and then I handed bouquets to the escorts, who in turn would give them to their date when the lights went up, the red one identifying the queen. It was fun to be part of that, and to be a “mother-hen” to the most popular girls in school who were on the court. The new queen was Robin, a girl who had just joined the Church -- not pretty like the others, but the friendliest girl in school. Sometimes there’s justice – even in high school.
48. Every summer my father’s receptionist took a month’s vacation from his doctor’s office, and my sisters and I took our turns working in her place. It was my first job experience, and I learned a lot about my dad. One day, the summer after I graduated from high school, a patient came in that I knew. It was one of the most, if not the most, popular girl in my high school. She was pregnant. I don’t know how, but I managed to show her to the examining room. Then my father asked me if I had prepped her for her exam. “Dad, I just can’t!!!”, I pleaded. He understood and I didn’t have to. I’ll never forget how awkward it all was, how sorry I was for her, and how glad I was that I had the gospel. That was much better than being popular any day!
49. It was always interesting riding in the car with my father. Sometimes we’d go with him to the hospital, or on house calls, clam digging at the ocean, or to High Council speaking assignments (from Forks to Olympia) when he’d asked us to speak to use up some of his allotted time. He drove some interesting cars in his lifetime, including a little round lime-green Borgwaard. He loved a convertible, and would put the top down anytime it wasn’t raining, no matter how cold and miserable we were. It was always an adventure riding with him because he didn’t keep his eyes on the road much. He could always spot animals in the trees, identify flora and fauna on the side of the road, and loved to look at the scenery. He took different routes on the way home from work each day so he could look at people’s yards and gardens. It’s a mystery how he stayed on the road at all. He also liked to “straighten out the curves” on freeways and freely wove from lane to lane. Did my mother know the danger we were in? or what an education we were getting?
50. The most interesting thing about my Dad’s cars was the trunk. It was always full. Most days he fed his high energy with soda pop. He bought cases of it in glass bottles, mostly Pepsi, directly from the local bottling company. He always had plenty to hand out to others. If he found a Church book he liked, he’d buy a case and keep it in his trunk, to give to people he saw. At Christmas time he filled his trunk with game, usually frozen pheasants bought at a local farm. Then whoever was old enough to drive or help would load the family trunk and deliver them to friends, patients, doctors and pharmacists around town. My dad was known as a generous man for several reasons; much of that generosity came out of the trunk of his car.
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