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Show c Free Press - Wednesday, December 12, 1984 - Page 2 comment illegitimate tree made legitimate gift Editorial Controversy hurting training school staff While controversy swirls around the Utah State Training School, an important factor has been overlooked, arid in some cases unjustly abused - the staff members who take all of the theories espoused by the social scientists and make them work. And the recent events that have placed the training school in the limelight have had little to do with those workers most of whom live in our communities. Instead, the questions and controversies have been generated from Salt Lake City, and have dealt with the administration and the philosophy of the institution. Questions have revolved around philosophies of care for the mentally retarded and the handicapped. And ever present in the background is the clash between those who would prefer to see the training school residents placed in group homes and those who feel the institution is the answer for some of those residents. But as the political battle has been waged, staff members have been unjustly maligned and placed in a position of uncertainty and instability. Unfortunately, those workers have been maligned in the process, and different political forces battle for control of the institution. At the outset of the controversy, staff members were accused of abusing residents - when the facts show that there have been six over the past reported cases of staff resident abuse. Those cases have been dealt with promptly and properly. And when it is considered that 900 individuals are employed by the training school, often in situations with residents who have severe behavioral disorders, that is - year-and-a-ha- lf -- a respectable record. Eventually the individual making the accusations, a person who should have known better, admitted that she could not prove that there was any abuse at the training school. The current problem at the school revolved around training school residents abusing other residents, and abusing themselves. And that's a problem created by underfunding and understaffing. Problems at the training school should not be swept under the rug. And they need to be dealt with swiftly and effectively. But the training school staff deserves recognition, rather than unjustified accusations, for performing well with limited numbersand resources. And they should be allowed to work in an atmosphere that is neither charged with politics nor uncertainty. It is in the best interests of everyone involved, especially the training school residents, that the graining school administration as well as the various. advocacy groups clamoring for recognition, get their t own acts together and allow the staff members to go about their work quietly and efficiently. staff-reside- nt , By BETTY FOWLER Once upon a time, the sentimental father of seven decided that he'd one of his favorite Christmas memories. His dad had always made a Christmas tree chopping expedition one of the most fun things about the holidays, and he'd do the same. He'd take his children, go out west, pick out a fragrant symmetrical tree, chop it down and bring it back to decorate in the family's living room. First of all, he found that a permit is required to chop down a tree and you have to get your permits from the state capital building in Salt Lake City. Well, the enterprising father decided, he might as well ask for four trees: one for his folks, one for his wife's parents, one for the school and one for his own family. After arriving at the capital building and finding the right department, he explained where he wanted to go to find the trees, how many he wanted, and then he paid for the permits. His wife fixed a picnic lunch. He checked out the truck and made sure he had all the equipment needed for g the expedition: an ax, a saw, extra gas, first-ai- d supplies, the usual emergency gear. He checked the tires, filled the gas tank, added a quart of oil, washed the truck windows and finally announced that all was ready. The excited children jumped in the truck, waved goodby to their mother, and the old Ford rumbled out of the driveway. tree-cuttin- really have this one?" The mother and children unloaded the tree while the excited family you better ct believe ii The mother of the family was delighted. The Christmas tree expedition gave her an extra day to play. She could finish up her Christmas sewing, make her fruit cakes in peace, and get in a little visit with her mom. It had been a good day for the tree crew. They'd found so many pretty trees it was hard to decide which ones to chop down. They finally arrived home with five trees instead of the four evergreens for which permits had been purchased. The missus exploded. "Why did you bring five trees? You know you only had four permits. You're in she added trouble," deep pestimistically. "Well," Mr. A. defended, "we coudln't decide which ones to bring. They were all so pretty. Hey, maybe we can sell one to kind of help pay for the trip." The trees were delivered the next day. One to his folks; one to her folks, one to the school and one to the living room. That left one tree, the untagged one, standing alone in the backyard - for all the world to see. When the children arrived home from school that afternoon, Mrs. A. asked if they knew of a family that needed a tree. "Do you know of anyone in your room who doesn't danced around the truck. The twins noticed that the house was clean, but very cold, and their friend's dad was lying on a couch in the kitchen looking pale and sick. Their mother, looking almost bewildered, said, "I'm sorry, we can't keep the tree. We can't pay for it. We don't have any decorations..." "We'll make some, Mama," the little friend said. "It's free! Can't we keep it, please." Ordering the twins into the truck, Mrs. A. started the motor and, making sure the roadway was clear of children, backed up and gunned the truck down the street with tears streaming down her face. About nine o'clock Christmas Eve morning, a forest green pickup stopped in front of the house. Two uniformed men stepped up to the door. "We heard you had an untagged tree in your yard," one of the men stated. "Is that true?" "No," mom said. "That isn't true. You may go look and see for yourselves." The men strolled around the house to the backyard. They checked things out, saying, "We're glad it isn't true. There's a big fine if anyone is caught with an untagged have a Christmas tree?" she questioned. Finally, the twins remembered one little girl in their class who'd ooooohed and aaahed over the school tree. "I don't think they have a tree. Mom," one twin said. "Well," said their Mom, "we'll have to do something about that! " Behind father's back, and with the children's help, Mom lifted the one remaining tree into the back of the truck and headed up the road. Following the twins directions, they drove up a lane back of the two-roohouse. By this time it was dark and cold outside and the family was anxious to get back to their own home. It was the night before Christmas Eve and there was lots to do. The determined mother sent the twins to knock at the door of their friend's house to ask if they'd like a Christmas tree. The door opened and at least nine curious little heads crowded together in the dimly lighted doorway. They screamed with delight when the twins announced why they were visiting. "A tree," they yelled. "Mama, come look, a Christmas gaily-decorat- aged-lumb- m -- tree." That beautiful pinion made an unforgettable Christmas memory for a certain family in Lehi, but it meant more than that to another, and, you better believe it. tree!" "No, we don't have a tree... can we Cluttered mind aids trivial pursuits the editor's As a gamester, I'm always on the lookout for a new way to spend an evening in pursuits of logic and luck - I like to play games. So each Christmas we're on the lookout for something that will keep us going in the cold winter nights : ahead. And I, specifically, am on the lookout for one of those games that I can win - consistently. Last year, we replaced our Clue game. And I'm lousy at it. (That's hard on a gamester's ego.) Someone always solves the who, where and with what before I ever figure out the who. And we picked up a game of Rummikub - at which I am also a bust. Numbers and colors are not my strong point. The year before, we were high on games of chance - and being a proverbial born loser, I neve;' have a chance. But this year is different. This year we purchased the big one -Trivial Pursuit. And well before Christmas it has found its way out of the wrapper onto our table. And despite all of the complaints about the nature of the game and the "skill" required to win, I like it. I'm good at it! The game, for the uninitiated, involves moving around a board and answering questions in six different categories. The category is determined by the color of the square on which your playing piece lands. Categories vary depending on the edition of the game. There is one for sports, one for movies, one for us Baby Boomers (this one is tough) and the standard "Genus" edition. The six Genus categories include natural science, entertainment, arts and literature, history, geography, and sports and leisure - in order of how well I can answer them. I'm good because obscure facts have always fascinated me. The more useless the information, the better I can remember it. If it's important, I have to write it down. I scan television listings, not to decide what movies to watch, but to find who starred in which movies -and when they were made. I have always done this. I used to read album covers (when there were things to read on album covers) and I would store up tidbits of useless inf orma tion. I scan magazines wherever and whenever I can find them. Maps fascinate me. My mind is cluttered with more useless nonsense than "you can shake a stick at," to use one of Mom's favorite phrases. It creates some problems. For example, when I knew both the name of the first Playboy centerfold (Marilyn Monroe), and the name of the Playmate of the year who starred in "The Poseidon Adventure" (Stella Stevens), my wife fixed me with THAT STARE reserved for wayward husbands. I just picked that stuff up - and I don't remember where. Honest. And when I could identify the album which contains "Strawberry Fields," (Magical Mystery Tour), some people felt I should spend more time on important matters. But I have found that Trivial Pursuit playing is as much an art as a skill - and being in the right mental location at the right time is as important as actually knowing the answer. So when I walked away with a win at a recent party by identifying the baseball player who said, "Never run, anywhere," it wasn't because I know a lot about baseball. After all, sports is my worst category. It just sounded like something Satchell Paige would have said. And that's why I'm good at Trivial Pursuit. Anybody game for a game? you will find baubles from her childhood - a glass Santa Claus that was hand blown in Germany. There are rocking horses and reindeer. There is a miniature train and even a toy helicopter. These and numerous other ornaments hang from the tree. Under the tree I have placed my memories of Christmas's spent as a boy in my native Wales. We did not have a Christmas tree. In fact, no one in the village had a Christmas tree. There were no pine clad forests as we have today. High on the hills above the houses, we boys knew of several holly trees. Before Christmas we would cut berry covered limbs and sell them for thruppence a bunch. Most of the holly was made into wreaths to hang in the window or on the doors. We had Christmas puddings. Mother made them in the summer and stored them in the pantry. She made them in large bowls and sealed them with a cloth that was soaked in homemade elderberry wine. Needless to say when the cloth was removed from a pudding the aroma was tantalizing. I must tell you about the elderberry wine. Father made it. He only made one gallon, which was stored a stone jug and kept under his bed. The only time it was opened column HAIDDOCKN yMARC Warning: Don't hide gifts here Christmas tree tells familiar stories By TOM GRIFFITHS That age-ol- d problem has reared it's ugly head again this year: Where to hide the gifts? Heed these words of advice: Do not hide Christmas presents under the bed! That is not a good thing to do for more than two reasons. There was this trusting, unsuspecting couple, who, in all innocence, hid the little record player and several 45 rpm records under their bed. The loving parents had been intrigued with the records when they heard them in the music store, "Are My Ears on Straight" and "I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas." Mom and dad felt smug in the knowledge that letters to Santa Claus with the requests for a record player had been written and mailed by two little girls. Imagine the parents amazement when at six a.m. Chhristmas morning their two innocents knew all the words on both records off by heart, and after hearing the songs just once! The proud mom and dad knew that they had two infant prodigies. It wasn't until years later that they found out the truth: Every time the couple had left the house those busy days before Christmas, their little darlings had scrambled under the bed, dragged out the record player, and listened to the music until they'd hear the unmistakable sound of the family jeep in the driveway. And, there was the time a nice, generous husband bought his wife a brand new vacuum cleaner and, wanting to surprise her on mroning, he hid it out of sight under the bed. His wife, who wasn't .a bad housekeepr, in a routine found the vacuum two The weeks before Christmas. children watched their mother as, after assembling the good old Hoover, she used it daily until the Big Day. Eve the trusting ; On Christms husband pulled the vacuum from it's hiding place, put it together, and proceeded to demolish ale if many Chr-8itm- h, ,' ,...-,- - uses to his wife. Their children watched with wide eyes and open mouths as their mother threw her arms around their father saying, "Oh, thank you, hon, this is a wonderful surprise! I'm so thrilled! Will you show me how it works?" Poor hubby. He didn't even notice that there was two week's worth of dirt in the vacuum bag. Another place you shouldn't hide gifts is in hall closets. Two young lads perfected their marksmanship with BB guns and were old pros when sparrow season opened Dec. 25. And all because the inquisitive young fellers checked out the closet after the season's first snow fall. They later told their dad that they'd just been looking for mittens. Another dangerous place to hide gifts is the basement. Two little brothers claimed they "believed" until that fateful year when they found one pair of boxing gloves in the downstairs closet. Too bad, Santa didn't bring the other pair. two competitive could What brothers do with one pair of boxing gloves? Santa couldn't be that stupid! That was the year those famous last words "I can beat you up with one arm tied behind my back" were invented. Little Johnny will never forget when he received his first sports injury. He was snooping in his parents' closet when a brand new Willy Mays baseball bat fell from the shelf and hit him on the head. And there were the frustrated parents who, on Christmas morning, watched as their children set their toys aside and played with the boxes and ribbons. "What's the matter, don't you like your toys?" the disappointed couple asked. "Yeah, we like 'em, but we're kinda tired of 'em. Gosh, we've been playin' with 'em for the past month," the kids answered honestly. So be warned. No one's found a good place to hide those presents yet. But these are a few of the places no Christmas present should be hashed until Dec. 26 - at least. again our living room is graced with a Christmas tree. My part in the erection and decorating is very meager. I trimmed a few branches off the bottom and fixed it in the stand. The decorating was done by my good wife and our grandson, Eric. I did assist in winding the lights around the tree and did offer occasional advice as to where to hang the various ornaments. Once There was a time when decorating a Christmas tree was a simple act. A few baubles, then a lot of icicles. To add a homey touch sometimes popcorn was threaded and draped around the tree. But our tree is different, it is a history and a story rolled into one. There are glass baubles that once hung on a tree in great grandmother's home. One can close the eyes and see Christmas in those days. A fire in the coal stove, cookies baking in the oven. Occasionally, sleigh bells can be heard as a sleigh with laughing voices goes prancing up the street. There were suet and plum puddings for the family dinner. Gifts were mostly home made and among the most prized was the crocheted articles that great grandmother had so tediously made with her arthritic fingers. Then Christmas comes a little closer as ornaments are hung that came from grandmother's was when one of the family came down with a cold. Then mother would heat a cup on the stove and made you drink it before going to bed. I remember yet how that cup of wine sent fire through my entire body. No cold could compete with that. So, my memories are under the Christmas tree. They are not gifts I can give away. They are mine, perhaps I can share them with my loved ones, but I cannot give them away for they are part of my life. FESTIVE SEASON'S EATINGS AND HOLIDAY GIFTS A f 6 3 lb lb. 5 lb. cans Cheese Honey case V Blend 3000 whole or Pecan half Gift p-Sp- 2033 Grain Country , Breadmaker 'Wrapped v y yjZz 5 lb. spaghetti 8 lb. macaroni HI 97 $1J97 -- 'Pasta Pair Cashews Halves 79 10 lb. jib. Select Ghirardelli Dipping Chocolate house. The words of a famous song stirs the memory. "Oh memories that bless and burn." Memories of grandma that burned into the heart to remain there forever. Her mate died young and left sadness, but no bitterness. There was a tree at Christmas with laughter and singing from her children and grandchildren. There was no talk of the departed, but once as she looked at the newly decorated tree I heard her whisper, "Oh, my love, how I wish you were here." Our tree decorations are a mixture of ancient and modern. My good wife is a connoissuer of Christmas tree decorations. On it in door-to-do- 4 lb. ABC noodles FREE rlpmniKtratmnc -- """"wiiiviij I5 15 oz- Make$ - 'oaves aii steel gears, commercial motor $21900 sixoo 51b. spaghetti 41b. macaroni warranty 5 lb. choc chips Reg. 249.00 New 5 lb. bag crop of Raisins OPEN :M-- F gSat. 5 nuts $547 5 95N.200E. '15 50 r...... ...... r4T are in! 11-6- 1 10-- 5 5 lb. popcorn 4 lb. rolled oats r Two-yea- 2 lb. cheese sauce powder 'Wrapped Gift Box American Fork, UT 84003 Call ? 756-951- 6 3 |