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Show Volume XIII THE Issue X OGDEN VALLEY NEWS March Page 11 1, 2006 The Moffet Place, Part III away for half a mile to the river bottom. In some places it was very steep and we expected to break the sound barrier on our way down. We climbed aboard with Captain Jim on the back. He called, “shove off’ and gave a great push. The sleigh did jot move. More hands were called to duty. They only succeeded in pushing the small fry, who rode up front, off into the snow. Examination showed us that the narrow runners, when heavily loaded, went through the light snow to the ground. We pulled the sleigh all the way home. It was not much fun but very good exercise for kids. Sometimes, I could coax my sisters into playing Indians with me. I was always the Indian and they were the settlers. I had a bow that was made ofa green willow with a rawhide bow string. For arrows, I used the long slender stocks that supported the fruit of the cattail. The guidance system of the arr rows Was a single nail driven into the small end of the arrow. The other end was notched to accommodate the bow string. It was a formidable looking weapon, but, alas, | had trouble shooting it. It ands and strong arms to shoot an arrow but I had neither. When Ilet the arrow fly, the bow would fall to the ground and the arrow might go in any direction. The dogs were indifferent when I shot at them and seemed to sneer at my best efforts. I hit several milk cows at close range but they did not have the decency to stop chewing their cuds. I think the reason my sisters didn’t like the , tad anal Fd 2 ame I was soon to fix that and give them a new respect for the “Indian.” I was trying to locate the enemy when I saw Maude’s head appear around the corner of the barn. I shot on the spur of the moment and saw to my horror the arrow traveling straight as a die for Maude’s face. Maude stood in disbelief as the arrow traveled a perfect are and slammed into her eye. I ran to her and with tears streaming down my face, said, “Don’t tell mama! Please don’t tell mama!” This, I knew, was a capitol offense and I would probably be punished for it. I took Maude’s hands away from her face and, to my horror, saw that the eye was filled with blood. I knew that mother must be told, so we ran to the house. After cleaning up the eye and stopping the flow of blood, mother said that it was not as bad as it might have been. She then turned to me and asked for an explanation. I told her that I was aiming at my sister but in as much as I had never hit anything before, I thought that there was no danger. My mother, who had watched me perform with the bow, was inclined to agree with me. She gave me a stern lecture, placed me on probation, and told me that, hereafter, I was to shoot only at still objects. The case was closed. e of the exciting days of the year was the day the Indians passed through our town. When the cry, “The Indians are coming!” was heard, no one was unduly excited. We did not run for the stockade. The men went on with their work in the fields and life went on as usual. These were not wild Indians. The Indians had long since been tamed by the United States Army in such battles as The Battle of the Bear River, Washita, Broken Knee, and others. These defeats, along with the destruction of the buffalo, had taken the fight out of the Indians. If my memory serves me well, these were MOFFETT PLACE cont. on page 12 Historical Photo ~ the back would give us a push, and down we would go. A ditch at the bottom would send us flying through space for a jump of perhaps ten feet. It was great fun. As we reached the top, after a particularly fine ride, Mrs. Olsen clapped her mittoned hands and said, “That looks like so much fun, I think I’d like to try it.” We invited her aboard and placing her in the center of the load for protection, went zooming down the hill. Mrs. Olsen yelled sso Seninied as loudly as any one on board. WI dear lady was2 langhing and tears were anit down her cheeks. She clapped her hands and said, “That’s the most fun I’ve had for a long time.” My brother, the mechanic, took an old discarded cutter, cut it down, and made it into a large hand sleigh. It was big and heavy and roomy and would accommodate five or six kids. The day after it was completed, we decided to give it a try. We pulled the monster far up on the foot hills ‘i he Ririe place. From here, the hill hed ~ Please note: The following is the fifth in a series of accounts by Howard Stallings of his life growing up in Ogden Valley. a youth, I spent a lot of time hunting, trapping, fishing, or daydreaming in the woods. One of my greatest thrills came as a kid of twelve years when my father gave me a 16 gauge automatic shotgun. I spent many happy hours in a duck blind or climbing the mountains in search of grouse. The gun is still one of my most prized possessions. I especially liked to bring fish or wild ducks home to my mother. She always bragged on “Nimrod” and told me how glad she was to have them. She always said to me, “Just leave them on the porch and I will take care of them.” Not so with my wife years later. My wife would say, “Don’t bring them into the house until they are cleaned, washed, and ready for the pan.” That is probably why I was not so keen on hunting and fishing after I got married. e were outdoor kids and on Saturday and Sunday after chores were done, we could usually be found on the ski slopes or toboggan run. The Huntsville cemetery hill was an excellent winter sports hill in no way resembles on: s ski were no power lifts or snack bars. We walked to the top, rested a few moments, and lown we went on skis, toboggans, or hand sleighs. The best skis that money could buy in our time were poor indeed compared to today’s skies. Ours, instead of having a harness to bind the skies securely to the foot, had only one strap across the top of the skis. Into the loop you placed your foot. Chances were good that on the way down the hill, one foot would slip out of the loop and you would do a cartwheel down the slope. The runaway ski would be found half'a mile out in the meadow. One day, when we were tobogganing on this hill, a Mrs. Olson, a sixty year old “youngster,” who lived near by, came to watch us. Seven or eight of us would get on the toboggan, the man on Information for Historical Photo from February 15, 2006 issue of OVN A big “thank you” to our many readers who, again, responded to our request for information about our historoto. While Norma Felt was the first to call in the names, many _ responded. The photo is of the 3rd or 4th grade class, and was taken around 1941 in the old gymnasium of the old Huntsville school that no longer stands. Front Row: Bob Colvin, Delyle (Rusty) Muir, Billy Harris, Lois Hayes, Norma Jean Allen, Wayne Graham, oe Johansen, Dwayne Grow. : Cleo ait — lene Montgomery, Joanne Felt, Wesley Wilson, Jay Stromberg, Evan ivy,Dale Ber lin, Gay Bac : Teacher ie Mec Joy, Ramona Hansen, Keith oo — McKay, Larry Wood, Elaine Gibson Gerald (Judd) Engstrom, Darrell Renstrom, Beverly Wi Back Dean Front Photo “A” Basketball Team, Valley Jr. High 1947-48 row left to right: Coach R. Glen Miller, Mack Stallings, Stanley Peterson, Lindsay, Parker Harris, Neil Farrell, Athletic Manager Dale Berlin. row: Pat McGill, Devon Smith, Maun Hislop, Don Shaw, Ned Price. courtesy of Ned F: Clark of Layton. Ogden Valley is Where Families Come to Play The Lucky Ones Get to Live Here in Paradise. Celeste C. 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