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Show T D M E S Submit a Guest Editorial or ( Tl & Opinion Opinion at our office, located locat-ed at 538 South State in urem. Deadlines are Monday 1 0:00 a.m. All submissions are subject to editing for length, and The Orem-Geneva Times reserves the right to publish or not to publish a submission. Thursday, June 19, 2003 iditorial OMMCN ifety Measures urged by State's Fireworks istributors and The Utah State Fire Marshal's Office 3 r: :n jy Fourth and Pioneer will bring more enjoy-t enjoy-t and fewer accidents year if consumers take ty precautions when ;: r.g fireworks, -cording to the U.S. mmer Product Safety riission and the Utah ed fireworks industry, j injuries associated t fireworks are princi-caused princi-caused by misuse, y producing informa-on informa-on how to use fireworks y, the CPSC and the T licensed fireworks stry knows that a fur-reduction fur-reduction of injuries will occur. The CPSC advises consumers con-sumers to purchase only legal fireworks that have been approved by the U.S. Department 0f Transportation (DOT), the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) and which are sold at licensed stands or retail outlets, in Utah, and are legal for use in the State. To help make this July Fourth and Pioneer Day the safest on record, the license Utah Fireworks industry offered the following safety rules for people celebrating with fireworks this vear. Buy fireworks in Utah from licensed fireworks stands or retail outlets. Select only safe and sane fireworks that are legal for use in Utah. Always read directions carefully and follow them. Never experiment with fireworks. Ignite outdoors away from buildings. Never re-ignite malfunctioning mal-functioning fireworks. Allow enough room for proper functioning. Light one at a time Keep a safe distance away Never give fireworks to small children Store in a cool, dry place Keep a bucket of water or a garden hose handy Dispose of properly The State of Utah Fireworks Act is a carefully balanced law which allows Utah citizens to buy and use legal fireworks safely and responsibly to celebrate the Fourth of July and Pioneer Day. Help make these holidays safe and enjoyable for all. Vive de duett Memories Qmwing,(lip an the 5wtm BETTY TURK esident Franklin D. velt had to do something olve the economic crisis of ""repression years of the post ;ason, 1929 through early He instigated several programs, CCC (Civilian jrvation Corps), WPA : Projects Administration) '; a loan program. ' dad was eligible for a i loan, and it was a happy, ill time, after experienc-number experienc-number of years of pover- today's standards. He t I a farm southwest of Mt. im, Missouri, in 1938 'S I was ten years old. I was " ire I wanted to live on a it : ien school began, we had " lk almost a mile to catch , us. There was closer one-9 one-9 country school, but jy wanted us to get the , possible education, and .ernon had a consolidated I district. It took about ' 'im hour to get over thet i , bump roads, and I often : arsick. The bus driver I pull over to the side of the road, stop, let me out to get fresh air, and then we would proceed. I was in the fifth grade, a new kid, rather shy, and very embarrassed. After a few of these events, we realized that with the new experience of having uiuimited milk, cream, butter and cottage cheese, my mother thought she was being extra nice to pour top cream over my Rice Krispies before school, and it was much too rich for my taste. Problem solved. ' We had no running water. For drinking purposes, we had to carry a bucket from the windmill, which also pumped water into the cattle tank. The bucket sat on a wash basin with a porcelain washbowl and a common towel. That is where we washed up before meals. The bucket held a blue speckled speck-led clipper, from which we all drank. The hot water came from the tea kettle, which had to be kept rilled. For other toiletries, toi-letries, we had a small building with a seat and two round holes cut. in it, and a Sears Roebuck or Montgomery Ward catalog. The Orem-Geneva Times 538 South State Street ' : Orem, UT 84058 An edition of The Daily Herald, Pulitzer Newspapers, Inc. ascriptions & Delivery 375-51 03 ws& Advertising 225-1340 J 2251341 nai oremtimesnetworld.com pS 411-711. Wished Thursdays by Pulitzer Newspapers, Inc., 'South State Street, Orem, Utah 84058. iodicals postage paid at Orem, Utah 84059. faster: Send address changes to P.O. Box Orem, UT 84059. Member: Audit Bureau of Circulations NEWSSTAND PRICE $0.50 SUBSCRIPTION RATE 1 year-$36.40 (in county) u?day & Thursday plus Holiday deliveries) J ollday deliveries include delivery the week of '' Thter' Memoria. Independence, Pioneer, Labor, 'hanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Day. 1 year- $45.40 (out of county) NEWS .welcome news tips. Call 225-1340 to report "Ps or if you have a comment or a question. Jlcome letters to the editor. All letters must jae the author's name (printed AND signed) and -vJPtone number. We reserve the righ to edit let- - viamy, punctuation, taste and lengin. usueio welcom le on any topic. We had no electricity. The kerosene stove was for cooking, a wood stove was used for heating heat-ing the main room where we ate, read, sewed and listened to a battery radio. The bedroom and parlor were closed off in the winter to conserve heat. We read by a kerosene lamp, sometimes some-times an Aladdin lamp, that had little white 'stockings', which glowed white, instead of the yellow kerosene lamplight. The chimneys or globes had to be kept clean and not streaked when the wick smoked and needed trimming. There was a cistern in the back yard where we hung milk to keep it cool. Most of the milk was strained and put in ten-gallon cans for the Carnation truck to pick up, each day. Sometimes, if we needed a ride to town, we could ride with the driver. We swept with a broom, or mopped, using old rags. Mother washed clothes with a round washtub and washboard. She ironed by heating sad irons on the stove, and changing them when one got to cool. White shirts had to be starched, of course, as well as some Sunday clothes. We always had a big garden, and Doris, my younger sister, and I pulled and hoed weeds, as well as picking the vegetables. We helped to can vegetables and fruit. Sometimes, Mother dried apples. Usually once a summer we all got in the car and went to the woods to pick blackberries. We wore long pants, long-sleeved shirts, hats, and anointed all bare skin with kerosene or something to scare off chiggers. (Chiggers are invisible red bugs, which get on your skin and bite, and then they itch, worse than anything.) any-thing.) The berries were so large and sweet, and we ate all we wanted. We usually took home two or more three-gallon buckets. Mother could make better blackberry cobbler, than anyone. Her jelly wasn't too bad, either. We learned about sassafras tea (roots were dug in the spring, then stepped to make tea, which was to thin your blood), wild permission, wild grapes, picking paw-paws, hickory nuts, May apples, etc. My sister and I helped, maybe not as much as we could have. We never worked in the fields or had to help do the milking. We fed chickens, gathered gath-ered eggs, brought in kindling to start the fire, etc. I was the chosen one, to help kill the chicken for supper. If Daddy was still in the field we caught a rooster and the fun began. There was a well-worn, concave chopping block and an ax. I held the rooster by the feet and wing tips. Mother held the ax. With his head in position posi-tion and at the count of three she chopped and we both looked the other way. Unfortunately, sometimes his head came off at the shoulders, sometimes just under his ears. He was fried in an iron skillet, with the last minutes, smothering smother-ing in steam. Mother was the best cook. Harvest was a time to look forward to. My mother did not seem to enjoy I so much. There was a harvest crew that went from farm to farm with the big harvester, when the grain was ready. It sometimes took two days, if the yield was heavy, or there were lots of acres. Eight to ten me would come and work as a team in the fields. Mother and I prepared dinner. There was always fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, vegetables, fresh tomatoes, pickles, hot rolls and jam, pies and cakes, and lots of iced tea to wash it down. We had to extend the table. The tablecloths table-cloths were white, and then it all had to be cleaned up. It was like a party to me. We usually had to go to town on Saturday, to take the eggs to sell. The first stop was at the MFA (Missouri Farmers Association). Mother sold the eggs, then bought flour, sugar, coffee, or yeast. Then we got to pick out our favorite geed sacks, which held the chicken feed. They were printed in very pretty patterns, sometimes. It took three to make a dress for Mother, but Doris and could get a dress from two matching sacks. Sometimes, we could find two of the same pattern. Then we had a skirt to wear with a white blouse. The material mate-rial was cotton, rather coarse, and it never wore out. The print might were off, but the fabric was still intact. We wore them with pride, because Mother let us choose the pattern, pat-tern, and she could sew very well. Church was important. We lived in the midst of a German community, and sermons were preached on alternate Sundays in German and English at the Zion Evangelical Church. Men and boys sat on one side; women and girls sat on the other side. If a couple was getting serious, the girl might sit with her boyfriend. After the war started they discontinued dis-continued the German sermons. Once a month there was a potluck dinner on our lawn. The meals were delicious, and something some-thing to look forward to. During this time, I missed not living near to anyone. I could have for a friend. I missed not having books. I suppose sup-pose I was bored, much of the time, but that was not a common com-mon word in my vocabulary. My sister was four years younger, and we weren't as close, as if we had been nearer the same age. During the school year, I sometimes stayed overnight with a friend in town to go to special events or ball games. I do not regret the things I missed, such as social activities, I guess. I knew I was loved, and my parents provided all they could; I did not fee deprived. I shall always be grateful to them for the love I felt, and the values they instilled. We left the farm in 1945, when I was a junior in high school. The dairy cattle got a serious disease and had to be sold. Daddy did not have enough manual help to maintain main-tain a farm that would provide a living. We moved to Springfield, Missouri, about 35 miles away, with a population of about 75,000. Timpanogos Green V, SNOW IMAGES ON TIMPANOGOS IVlount Timpanogos, where the eye explores! The mountain, where imagination soars! Now, June presents its snow-clad mountain-scape, Emerging from its winter sleep. The crags And crannies give the melting snow relief, Until the sun suspends its bold belief In images of snow among the stags. (For them, in summer, there is no escape.) Binoculars and brains begin to seek The shapes and shades, appearing most unique. Amazing, how imagination sees The snows creating fair facsimiles! For all across the mountain's wide expanse, The snow's remaining patches gleam. They shine Beneath the sun's unyielding gaze. They form : Themselves into the statues of the storm. The cynosure of Valley eyes' design, The mountain melts its clever countenance: A myriad of white, delightsome shapes From famous men, to pirate ships and apes! Behold! the clever clown! He is so big! Or is it Washington with his white wig? The possibilities are endless, there: Perceive the ghastly ghost, ephemeral! There is no limit to the snow's largesse, And all the images it does possess! No other mountain, diademeral, So willingly, its shining shapes may share. The somber shadows of the night descend, Decreeing all imaginings must end! Nocturnal noises stir the melting snow, And energize kaleidoscopes, below. Again, when summer's sun begins to gleam, Mount Timpanogos fields its fairy tale. Snow images of yesterday are changed, As rivulets and rills are rearranged! The circus clown has turned into a whale, And Washington is now a mountain stream! The melting snow still sparkles and reveals The images the summer stuns and steals: Now, apprehend the Teddy bear in white! The rocket ship, exploding in its flight! Albino snakes, that crawl the mountain crack. A lonesome lover, Elvis Presley sings. An alligator, snapping small snowballs; A maiden, catching manna, when it falls. A phantom Pterodactyl's whited wings; A dinosaur, bewildered, on its back. See Mister Mickey Mouse with global ears, Near one or two of the Three Musketeers! Th e fissures and the fractures on the mount Are many more than anyone can count. They snatch the snow from sweet oblivion, And mighty melting by the blazing sun. Propitiously, these pinnacles of white Maraud our memories, most every night. And morning brings new images to life, As sharp as any blade of Nero's knife. Mount Timpanogos, where the eye explores. This mountain, where imagination soars! 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