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Show wwmext mest DHE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS March Page 11 15, 2006 Grandparents a Please note: The following is part of a series of business man by today’s standards. He did not accounts by Howard Stallings of his life growborrow money. He did not buy on credit. He ing up in Ogden Valley. did not use the services ofa bank. He paid all of his debts in gold, and when he sold someBecause Maude was an efficient farm hand and did her work well, I waited in vain for a thing, he expected to be paid in gold. Cash on promotion. I was still a wood hauler and a pig the barrelhead. He kept his money in an iron safe built solidly into the wall behind a large feeder. There didn’t seem to be any future on bookcase. At the conclusion of a deal, he the farm for me. I was happily surprised one day when my father said to me, “Your grandpa would go to the safe, take out a bag of gold, and count out the desired amount. He was a wants you to ride the derrick horse for him. Do you think you can handle it?” I assured him good trader and always drove a hard bargain. that I could and next morning, I reported to the Grandpa was a tenderhearted man who loved and respected his animals. He had a Ritter ranch for work. I spent several happy mongrel dog named Pat and a tom cat named summers working for grandpa. It was a job to my liking. I had plenty of Tom, of course. Both animals were sick and crippled with age. Grandpa was an old man time in between loads of hay to explore the and as such had great respect for Pat and Tom. hills and the ponds around the ranch. I was always careful to be back on the derrick horse Pat had rheumatism in his legs and could hardwalk. He was almost blind and most of his when the call came for Old Dan and to pull the teeth had fallen out. Tom had lost all of his great fork full of hay into the barn. Going home on Saturday night with a five dollar gold teeth but managed to pay his way in life by ae mice and depositing them on the piece in my pocket was one of the many things . With a hatchet, grandpa would chop I liked about the job. Lo to bits so that Tom could eat them. The great Ritter ranch house was indeed a sight to behold with its large rooms, carpeted Grandpa was torn between love of the two old floors and stairways, bay windows, and bookfriends and his duty as their master. He finally decided to have them destroyed. He called my cases filled with beautiful books. I was espemother and told her that he wanted to see Jim cially impressed with the great grandfather clock that stood in the dining room. It bonged and Howard. We were also instructed to bring a gun. When we arrived at the ranch, gun in out the hour on the hour and had chimes and hand, grandpa was sitting in his favorite chair bells for the quarter hour. I never tired of lispuffing on his pipe. Tom was on his lap and Pat tening to the slow, rhythmic tic tock, tic tock, was lying at his feet. After a few preliminary or of watching the great pendulum swing back remarks, ae got down to business. He and forth. The most wonderful thing about the ho s a modern lighting system. The said “Boys, I want you to do a job for me. It’s house was lighted by carbide gas that was a job I can’t do niece and I will understand if manufactured in the cellar and piped into the ou say you can’t do it.” He hesitated for a house. Large chandeliers that hung from the moment and then continued. “Old Pat and Tom ceiling were lighted at dusk and burned with a are old and sick and worn out and I believe white brilliance that was beautiful to see. I was they would be better off to be out of their mishypnotized by the brilliant white light and the ery. Could you boys take them over on the low hissing sound created as the gas was conDuck Pond Hill and . . . he hesitated a moment sumed by the flame then went on, “shoot them.” We were both shocked but we tried not to show it. “I know it Grandpa, being a Dutchman, was fond of sounds cruel,” he said, “but when you get old good food. He wanted nothing but the best for his family. In a clump of popular trees he built and sick and there is no hope of getting better, maybe it’s better to be dead.” After some hesia large building to be used as an ice house. In tation, we told gramps that we thought we this building we stored a supply of ice to help could do it. He gave us a shovel and said, take the sting out of the long hot summer. “They have always been friends 80 I want you Because we had an abundance of ice and rich to bury them in the same grave.’ cream, iced desserts were common on our Tom purred contentedly as I carried him in table. I enjoyed the ice harvest. My father and the my arms. Pat, limping on rheumatic legs, did Ritters hauled many loads of ice from Shupe’s his best to keep up. He seemed happy to be pond at the mouth of Middle Fork or from the going somewhere with friends. power dam in Ogden Canyon. Blocks weighalmost to the hill when Pat stopped and bellied ing about 200 lbs. were cut, loaded on bobdown on the ground, licking his front paws. sleighs, and hauled to the ice house. The ice We both sat silently for awhile thinking of the was covered with a thick layer of saw dust and terrible thing we were about to do. “I don’t would keep the ice from melting and provide think I can go through with it.” I said. “I think us with a steady supply throughout the sumI'll go back.” Jim said. He didn’t want to kill mer. them either, so we turned around and went Grandpa would not be considered a good back to the house. Gramps was waiting for us. Celeste C. Canning PLLC Attorney at Law 2590 Washington Boulevard, Suite 200 Ogden, Utah 84401 Local: 801 791-1092 Office: 801 612-9299 Email: ccanninglaw@aol.com Meeting the Legal Needs of Small Business and Their Owners Pat managed a feeble bark as Gramps patted him on the head. “I’m glad you didn’t do it boys,” he said. He reached into his pocket and handed us each a silver dollar. We tried to refuse it but he insisted. “Here after,” he said, “we will leave such matters to a higher authority who will solve them more gently than we can.” Grandmother told a story about grandpa that was kind of funny if you understood how he coveted those sparkling gold coins. He was the proud owner of a team of high stepping, spirited, and well matched bay mares. With this team hitched to the “surrey with the fringe on top,” and his family beside him, he was the envy of all the neighbors. He loved those horses and he said under no condition would he part with them. One summer day, a man who was not only a good horse trader but a psychologist, drove into the lot. He asked grandpa if he wanted to sell his team of bays. Grandpa told him the mares were not for sale. The man said, “I’ve heard a great deal about them. Could I see them?” Grandpa loved to show them off and soon the man was looking them over. He could find no blemishes on either of them and continually bragged on them. When he had finished his examination, he patted the horses and said, “They are the most beautiful team of bay horses that I have ever seen.” The man took a handful of gold coins from his pocket. He stacked them up in five stacks of five, ten dollar gold pieces. Grandpa looked away in disdain. The man removed another handful of coins from his — and added them to the ive stacks. Now there were seven stacks of five, ten dollar gold vets glittering in the sun. By this time, the man was talking a political philosophy that grandpa could accept. It was strange how this horse traders philosophy would coincide exactly with grandpas. The man still stacked the coins. Gramps said, “The horses are not for sale.” The trader looked uj and said, “We were having such an interesting conversation that I completely forgot about the horses.” The gold was now in five stacks of seven, ten dollar gold pieces. To each pile the man added two more coins. He continued to talk about the conservative republican’s philosophy as he reached in to his pocket for another handful of coins. They were now in ten stacks of four coins each and to each stack he added another gold piece. The total was now $500.00. He restocked them in 5 stacks of ten coins each, then he tried to stack them in GRANDPARENTS cont. on page 12 Historical Photo Cooks at Huntsville Jr. High 1947-48 Clark, Mrs. Helga Doman From left to right: Mrs. Vera Harris, Mrs. LaVern Bupervisor), Mr. Marlow Stoker (Custodian), Mrs. Wangsgard, Mrs. Ann McKay. 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