Dreamed/Dreamt as a Boy

Both words are correct past tense and past participle of the verb to dream.  The point is ... I had dreams in my early years.  Wish I’d kept a diary like my wife Kay did; (so interesting, reading through hers recently).  As I recall, mine were not fantastic like many of Kay’s dreams.

As I built things with Erector sets, I often dreamed of becoming a mechanical engineer.  (We think our first son would have been good at that career.)  I also dreamt of building a better model railroad like Great-uncle Joe’s layout in the basement of his Ogden mansion.  It was likely the fulfillment of his dream as a boy, shared in retirement years with their grandchildren.

This could go on to be more than fast personal history.  Let it be ... a short example of random, bit-by-bit writing about one’s distant past — a way I get over my “writer’s block”.  And maybe serve to encourage our young families to record and write before memories fade like mine; (complete sentences not required, for posterity’s sake).  Don’t forget — summertime can be especially dreamy!

model railroad at The Henry Ford Museum, 27 July 2018

June-July Reading

“What are you reading this summer?” I ask our grandchildren, knowing Grandma Kay would encourage them as well.  June is nearly gone, begging the question in past tense, “What did you enjoy reading for the first month of vacation?”  August will be a rush of one-more-trip and back-to-school activities.  That leaves the lazy month of July ... after celebrating the Fourth, of course.  (Deseret Book advertised rewards for “summer reading ... through July 28th”.)

I was pleased last Friday to see our little grandsons picking up and reading books at the Treehouse Museum — so fun at The Junction in Ogden, across the street from our apartments.  Good to see so many children’s books throughout that educational center.

A favorite memory of my summer at YMCA Camp Roger as a 17-year-old counselor is reading stories of the old West to my 8-year-old boys at night.  ( I still keep the book as a personal treasure.)

”Founded in 1948, YMCA Camp Roger is the perfect opportunity to experience the magic of Utah's amazing natural resources and to make lifelong memories.”  — ymcautah.org

As an adult, I rarely read fiction.  An exception is one I now find compelling: The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom, author of Tuesdays with Morrie, which Mrs. Cannon and her English teacher friends like.  I don’t write book reviews like Kay asked her students to do, but I could learn ... after I finish reading.

Spring to Summer

In two days here in the Northern Hemisphere, on June 21st, we astronomically start summer.  Regardless, some folks have already started summer vacations, summer reading programs,  and summer clearances (to make room for fall merchandise and Christmas ... just around the corner).

So, what do you do in the summer?

I recall a favorite song my wife Kay taught the little children in Primary:

“Oh, what do you do in the summertime, 
when all the world is green?

Do you fish in a stream, or lazily dream 
on the banks as the clouds go by?  ...”

— Children’s Songbook of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

Good questions.  For heaven’s sake, don’t let summer pass you by ... without making memories.  Kay always makes them ... in abundance.  

“Is that what you do? So do I!”

cheery decor a day early at Hidden Valley, 20 June 2019

courtesy of Alene Dalton, Myriel Ashton, and Erla Young
“My Picture Book of Songs”, circa 1950

Street Language

Having lived in Utah most of my life, I take our street names for granted.  Since returning to Ogden after twelve months in Michigan, I am reminded of how unique they are in this city.  According to Ogden history I read, credit goes to Mayor Kiesel, who renamed the streets in 1889.  For example, Bingham Fort Lane was changed to 2nd Street.  (A local friend helped me find the elusive 1st Street.)

The historic heart is 25th Street, which runs east from the famous railroad station.  I figure it’s the equivalent of 23 city blocks south of the older 2nd Street, so it wasn’t named Main or Center.
”Also known as ‘Two-bit street’ or ‘Historic 25th’, ... this street's development got under way after the construction of the original Union Station on the west end of the street in 1889.  ...”
– planning.org/greatplaces/streets...

When we lived two years on Tyler Ave in east Ogden, Kay and I became better acquainted with US presidents’ names (as preferred by Mayor Kiesel in 1889, apparently).  My favorite has always been Taylor Ave (12th president), where my Rich ancestors lived.  I felt they were aware and continuing to influence me.  Lots of love there.

With the new addition of a FamilySearch Center across the street from the temple and “kitty-corner” from our apartments, I felt compelled to research (a common word at FamilySearch) the origin of that street language. 

The word “kitty-corner” has many different variations: catty-corner, caddy-corner, cat-a-corner, or kit-a-corner. They all mean the same thing: something that is directionally diagonal from a certain point.
Interestingly, despite all of the “cats” and “kits,” the word has nothing to do with domesticated felines. Rather, it stems from the word cater-corner. Cater is an English dialect word meaning “to set or move diagonally.” It is derived from the French quatre, which means “four” or “four-cornered.” The word quatre was first introduced to the English as the word for the number four on dice, and was promptly anglicized to cater.

— todayifoundout.com

(subtitled, “FEED YOUR BRAIN”)

Trivial stuff, but since I’m constantly sharing the good news about our new addition, kitty-corner from my home, I wanted to know what I’m really saying.  Sorry — I don’t treat street language lightly.

Long, Long Truck

It was a long haul with a long U-Haul this week, but we did it — Ogden, Utah to Portland, Oregon.  Plenty of uphill and downhill, but it was “nice” ... two days of good weather for “it”, recalling a line from The Long, Long Trailer — a favorite movie of ours — the scene where newlyweds, played by Lucy and Desi, pull past a sign: NOTICE
20 miles of steep, narrow, winding road ahead,
difficult for trailers”
[Hilarious, but metaphorical for their life as a couple]

Our dear friend and former neighbor who hired me to drive, had family load the long, long truck.  Driving to the Oregon Coast was always done in two days by Kay and me.  So, I planned the long haul to be done likewise.  It worked perfectly.

Three professional movers unloaded the huge truck on time as scheduled.  A nice guest apartment nearby was provided for me ... including the best breakfast I could imagine!

The next day, Wednesday, I returned the truck, helped move boxes around, etc., and met some friendly neighbors.  That afternoon, I attended the beautiful Portland temple, which Kay and I had enjoyed once before; (there is no fast way to describe how I loved my experience this week, knowing we are together forever).

Thursday afternoon, from a Trimet stop at Fred Meyer next door, I easily took a bus to city center, enjoyed the Festival of Flowers at Pioneer Courthouse Square (Portland’s “living room”), caught the MAX train through rain to the airport, saw a big Navy ship, and took a shuttle to my hotel — close enough to hear the rumble of jets taking off.  All that for $1.25, a 2.5-hour senior pass.  Sweet vacation, but this old (pc: “more mature”) man was eager to return home.

After the 5am all-you-can-eat, hot breakfast yesterday, I caught the shuttle to PDX, Alaska Airlines to SLC International, UTA TRAX to North Temple Street, and FrontRunner train (my comfort zone) to Ogden.  A short walk to Colonial Court (could’ve hopped on a bus for free) was time for a visit with friends who were waiting at a bus stop and for pics at the DUP Pioneer Museum.  Home at 2:34, my leftover snacks got me through a welcome siesta.  An evening without plans was heavenly in our main building — another story for a different time.

It was a long, long week for the Portland project ... and I loved it.  Thanks for the memories!

what I mean by "long, long"

our favorite in Oregon

where to go from city center

Random-access Memory?

Sunday morning — a time to reflect on 

where I came from, 

why I am here, and 

where I am going.

At birth, I could not remember my premortal life; no one can, as I understand it.  I can’t even recall my first five years of life since birth, except nap time in preschool; many surely can, amazingly.  My memories randomly recalled are often just passing thoughts ... quickly sidetracked by others (including people, media, the world we live in).  Recording random memories has helped me — sooner the better; this blog to the world is one of many methods ... usually random, often just for me, assuming no one reads it unless I point it out to someone.  Such is this post, for example, recording memories, but going beyond what is random.

In my youth I learned in ways that leave no doubt — eternal truths I never forget.  They are constant, not random.  In premortal life I lived and loved as a spiritual son of God.  I am here to gain a physical body, belong to a forever family, gain experience and knowledge, receive priesthood ordinances necessary for eternal life, serve others, be tested, and be happy.  I surely know where I want to go and live again with Heavenly Father, family (number one: my wife Kay), and friends — made possible by the grace of Jesus Christ, obedience, good works, and endurance to the end of mortal life.

It’s true, we are blessed with God’s love and comforting constancy amid turbulent change.

Let’s see ... what else do I remember?  A few more non-random memories: school, our first church missions, our wedding and honeymoon almost 48 years ago, the births of our five precious children, their missions and weddings, the additions of grandchildren, our year of service in Michigan, dear friends ... I could write a book.  Now let the random-access memories continue, and maybe they will all fall into place ... along with what I indelibly know to be true.