Ogden Valley News | 2007-12-15 | Page 13

Volume XV Issue I The Ogden Valley news Page 13 December 15, 2007 Autobiography of David A. Berlin Note: This is the first in a series of stories to follow relating experiences of growing up in Huntsville as told by David A. Berlin and compiled by William Harold Wangsgard, grandson of David Andrew Berlin. David A. Berlin [I] David A. Berlin, son of Andrew E. Berlin and Mary F. Bjorkohlm Berlin, [was] born August 18, 1882 in Huntsville, Utah. Grandmother Anna Bjorkohlm came from Sweden with a company of LDS converts. Other members of her family in the company were two sisters, Mrs. Erickson with her son, and Mr. and Mrs. Danielson with their three daughters. Grandmother had two daughters, Mary Fredricka and Scholota (Charlotte or Lotty) and one son named John. My father, who had spent several (3 or 4) years doing missionary work in Sweden in his youth, was in the same company on the boat coming to America. Father and Fredricka, my mother, became very good friends during the long voyage. Their friendship flourished and they were married after they arrived in Salt Lake City. Soon Grandmother and her two sisters with their families moved to Huntsville. Grandmother bought the lot and built the house. Later, mother and father moved into part of the house with Grandmother. This helped considerably to save on wood and coal. Grandmother had received a cord of wood which had to be sawed. She told me that if I would saw her wood, she would pay for a new saw so we could saw our own wood. Grandmother kept a cow and about 20 chickens. She made butter and sold the butter and eggs to Uncle William Felt (he married Lotty) who bought and sold butter and eggs in Ogden. Grandmother always had a party on her birthday for the families of her sisters, daughters and nieces. It was sort of a family tradition. She made a little cookie which she would roll out thin, about 2x3 inches in size, and hang on a broomstick. I thought these cookies were tops. She called them “able-Skives.” I always felt she favored me. She was going to teach me to talk Swedish, but I was gone too much. I can’t help saying a little prayer when I place a bouquet on her grave. Frank, my brother, three years older than myself, and I were getting some wood for mother. I was sitting on the chopping block about three feet away from where Frank was chopping. The ax slipped and hit the end of my big (index) finger on my right hand. There was just enough skin left to hold it together. The end of my finger hung down like a clapper in a bell. There was no doctor in town so father took over, sewed it back in place and I still have it today. I was six years old, as I recall. Father had two wives. Mother lived in town and Aunt Lena lived about a mile and one half to the east where father had a small farm. One day Frank and I walked up to Aunt Lena’s. She had two boys, Angus and Joe, my half brothers. After we had been there awhile, the other three decided to go swimming. They wouldn’t let me go with them because I was too small. Aunt Lena had company so I would not go in the house. I just stayed outside and cried. She soon found me, took me in, and fed me and then I felt better. In the fall of the year we used to take our cows to the outlying areas to graze as the fields were open to everybody. We would all move up to the grazing area for awhile. One day we boys walked to town to go to primary. On the way back, 10 or 12 of the boys were walking together and we had to cross a slough. Loose boards had been placed so as to make a path on which to cross. George Smith said I splashed water on him when I stepped on one of the planks. He got angry so the bigger boys took the plank up to force George and me into a fight to settle our differences. We were on the side of the road slugging as hard as we could when a big buck Indian turned the corner on a horse, let out a war “shoop” and started galloping toward us. We all took off running. George lived a block and a half up the road so we headed for his barn. As we neared the fence around the barnyard, I asked George in a puff if I could hide in his barn too. He held up the wire for me to get through. We were all peeping through windows and doors as the Indian passed. He ha-hahed as he went past BERLIn cont. on page 14 Historical Photo Pep Club Valley Jr. High 1947-48 Shown above, front row (left to right): Allene Combe, Dorothy Rasmussen, Helen Bailey, Bonnie Collard, Priscilla Page, Myrle Graham, Joy Clawson, Joy Stromberg. Second Row: Mrs. Leotta Allen, Marian Peterson, Janene Johansen, Betty Collard, Deneese Colvin, Delores Bingham, Norma Allen, Joan Clark. 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