We often read about our ancestors, and for good reason. They lived incredible lives and set examples worthy of our emulation. But we also need to learn about those who are right here in our midst. So sit back and enjoy the following memory about--you guessed it--me.
I realize memories are priceless treasures that can be enjoyed over-and-over throughout life. Sometime I am going to tell you about my hitchhiking woes, since I don't think I have shared that with you yet. But this week, I decided to tell about one of my money making ventures as a boy.
If there was one skill we developed in Castle Valley, we learned how to work…throwing hay, hauling logs for firewood, digging hundreds of fence post holes and ditches, taking turns irrigating in the middle-of-the-night and planting 300+ trees on our ten-acre farm and orchard come to mind. Dad insisted that the holes we dug for these trees were 2-feet wide and 2-feet deep. But even with all these everyday jobs, there were ever so many more tasks that needed doing. We heated our home with wood burning stoves, which meant during the summer, we would gather enough wood to burn all through the winter. Now this wasn’t for cozy fires in the fireplace. This was our single source of heat for our home throughout the long, wintry weather. It meant cutting, drying, stacking, and if necessary covering the wood to keep it dry and ready to throw on the fire. For the most part, it worked well and was exceptionally cozy. I still remember standing alongside the warm, wood-burning stove in the cold mornings. The heat radiating from the fire in the stove was mesmerizing, probably because the rest of the house early in the morning was still cold.
I will always have fond memories of saddling up alongside the stove to absorb the warmth from the burning wood. I briefly considered earning money by cutting and selling loads of wood for people in the valley and even down in Moab, but since we had our fill of gathering, cutting, chopping, and stacking our own wood, I decided that wasn’t for me. We did have to earn money, however. And the valley provided, many opportunities, but most people had lots of work and few funds. Nevertheless, we tried our best to make the living we needed, and there wasn’t always hay to throw or opportunities for paid labor, so we needed to think up other interesting and creative ways to earn money.
For example, one year I needed $30 or $40 for youth conference. I presented my problem to mother and solicited ideas for making that much money in a short time. Someone suggested selling pizzas from door-to-door, kind of like a pizza delivery operation in the valley. This sounded like a pretty good idea, so we made order forms with two or three different kinds of pizza and solicited people in the valley. We told them we would bake the pizza fresh and deliver it to them while still hot, and we got a landslide of takers. We planned the strategy and timing so we could prepare, bake, and deliver freshly-made pizzas all around the valley. And with the help of the family and our old white Chevy pickup truck, we brought this backward farming community into the present by giving them a taste of the 20th century—hot, out of the oven, and delivered to their door. There were no fast food restaurants in Castle Valley and certainly no food delivery services. But for one evening, long ago on the dusty roads of old-time Castle Valley, there was a pizza delivery service that rivaled Dominos and quality pizza that blew people away.
And thanks to mom and dad, I had all the money I needed for youth conference.
My admiration and appreciation for all of you knows no bounds for the skilled and talented people you have become and for your beautiful families. No doubt, you are the best work I will ever do!
I love you, dad
