Rake & Bag – Another Day of Service

Our ward finally did their day of service as President Erying of the First Presidency asked us to do in April 2011 General Conference. Brother Hamilton, a counselor in the bishopric said, “We were waiting for the leaves to fall.” Our ward leadership decided that the senior citizens of the ward would be served. After many years of serving; it was payback time. There were 2 two hour shifts that ward members could sign up for. Jay signed up for the 10am session and I tagged along. We walked to the house we were assigned. Jay, another man and I helped put Sister Neilson’s lights up. When the people who raking & bagging leaves at a previous house came, we started raking and bagging leaves on her lawn and the house east of hers. When we finished there, our group did her neighbors to the west. Their names weren’t on the list, but they were most grateful to us. They have bad backs and were not able to rake the leaves. Before we were done raking and bagging leaves, Sister Neilson made breadsticks for those who helped. They were The Bomb. Even the youngest boy there ate an armful. I guess his eyes were bigger than his stomach. He reminded me of a much younger Jay, who would always dish up more food than he could eat. I was glad that some parents brought their sons with them. They got teach the value of service thru example. Even though the little boy played in the leaves, he also helped out and experienced an act of kindness and learned the value of work. There is always a reward, even if it isn’t Holladay’s best breadsticks.

Halloween Memories

Part I
Trick or Treat. But I probably said something like “Trickrtreat” and my brother, Steven and I may added “smell my feet; give me something nice to eat.” I am not sure our older brother, John dared us or if he bragged that was what he was going to say. If anyone of us did, I would not be surprised if the neighbor who answered the door rolled their eyes. I don’t remember going to many houses, so I usually came home with small loot. Living out in the country, we drove to the other farmers’ houses for our trick or treating. I never remember going into Paul or even Rupert or the big city of Burley, Idaho.
And I don’t remember my mom buying us store bought costumes, (hey, farming is risky business) so I had to use my imagination or my mom’s. I am sure she came with my first few costumes, but later I had to come up with my own. I may have dressed up as a hippie once since it was the sixties when I did most of trick or treating. Once, probably 4th or 5th grade, I dressed up as a bride. I don’t remember if I wore a white dress or not, but I used a fancy lacy double layered white half-slip as the veil. (Now, my niece, Tracina, knows why her toddler wore undies on her head once. Bella got the idea from me.). I vaguely remember some smart aleck male classmate making a comment about wearing a slip on your head. At the time I was mortified by the comment, but now I have to laugh. Hopefully, my young nieces have more class than I did. But at least I was creative and thought outside the box. Do I regret not ever having a store bought costume? No. I doubt I would have much, if any memories of my childhood Halloween adventures.

Part II
It wasn’t until after attending Ricks College and moving back to Salt Lake that I started to get in the spirit of Halloween again. I probably walked down to 4th South and 9th East to Safeway’s and bought a bag of candy. I probably had to buy a second bag because I ate the first bag before Halloween night. There were a few knocks on the door, which was a surprise because I lived in a 20 plus unit apartment building and went to a singles student ward at the Institute of Religion. The neighbors along 6th South did not know me. Even when I moved to the Avenues, I would get one or two groups of trick or treaters. After I finished at Utah, I moved south and lived at the Cherry Hill Apartments, a four building complex. Since I would take my adopted nephews trick or treating, I would leave a small or medium sized basket outside my door. When I came back, the empty basket would be waiting for me. I don’t how many trick or treaters came to my door or if it was just the neighbor children at the end of my building. When my brothers and I lived at Woodside, some neighbor children would always managed to knock on the door. One year Jay left the porch light off and no one came. I gave him grief. Since moving to our condo, no one, not even ward members with children, knock on the door. Most people now Trunk or Treat in the ward parking lot or take their little ones to neighbors who live in single unit housing. Apartments and condo complexes have the reputation of being occupied with strangers. I quit buying multiple bags of candy (except for maybe the office). Last year, Jay walked to FreshMarket and bought a bag of Tootsie Pops and Rolls. No one came, but we enjoyed the leftovers.

Part III
In my last semester at Utah, I began the tradition of taking my adopted nephews, the Pugh Brothers, trick or treating in their neighborhood. My first time included Steven, Kevin and two year old Darren. Steven took me on a whirlwind tour of the neighborhood. I swear he took us down one street twice, those neighbors looked mighty familiar. In fact one of them said something about seeing us before. Needless to say, I was worn out when we got back to the house. I was convinced Steven tried to break a world record. Kevin was able to keep with Steven, but I was challenged. I was carrying Darren, a heavy toddler. While Darren was silent most of the night, Kevin knew to say “Trick or Treat” when a neighbor presented a bowl of candy. But Darren wasn’t clueless when he got home. He had a look of pure delight while enjoying the fruits (candy) of his first loot. Steven probably stashed his loot in his room after enjoying a good share of his loot. Kevin probably did the same. I can’t remember if this was the only year that Steven went trick or treating with me. Mark joined Kevin and Darren after a year or two. And Jared and Crystal were probably 15 months old when they went Trick or Treating their first times. Not sure if either made it to the Jensen’s or not. I think Val was disappointed that she did not get to see Baby Batboy or the small scarecrow girl. Both only lasted 2 or 3 houses before they wanted their mom. Val would always give me a treat when I brought the Pugh children around. After awhile it was just Crystal and her best friend forever, Whitney that would go with me. When I moved to the condo, Crystal was providing her own Halloween entertainment. She like her brothers outgrew me. (When Johnny Jensen, the Pugh neighbor saw Whitney and Crystal in the above costumes, he kept telling them that he was going to eat them. By the end of the the everning I was calling them Chicken Soup and Rabbit Stew.) But I still have fond memories of trick or treating with the Pugh children. One year, Darren was sick, so I took a plastic sack and got him some treats. When we got home, David came home with another bag of candy for Darren. Between the two of us, Darren hit the mother lode. One year, Mark and Jared, (and maybe Darren) went to Fashion Place Mall after we went thru the neighborhood. I wasn’t too impressed with the penny candy we got and the long lines, so that tradition ended. We may have tried a different mall next year or tried it at an earlier time. As the years went by, there was less children trick or treating in the Pugh’s and my neighborhoods. Most likely, the neighborhoods were growing up and maybe it’s the annual Trunk and Treat that gets more popular as times goes by.

Partners in Crime

I wrote this at the end of August. My friend, Jared had just returned from his mission and I was at his home after his homecoming. When Jared's brother, Mark stuck his camera into thier sister's, Crystal's room, I was reminded of my younger brother and sister, Jay and Laura, who were partners in crime growing up. So here is what I wrote over a month ago.

In my book, Partners in Crime are siblings and the youngest two of a family. They are proclaim innocence to outside world, but older family members know not to completely trust them, because they are usually up to something together.
The first Partners in Crime I knew were my younger siblings, Jay and Laura. Growing up on a farm, we had to provide our own entertainment and this was before computer, internet and digital were words. During the evening Sacrament Meeting, both would make a fuss to earn a trip to the local drive-in next door. Eventually Mom caught on and made them sit tight in the foyer. I remember banging on the wall outside my bedroom during an early Saturday morning. Those two did NOT allow me to sleep in. Once, Jay and Laura kidnapped the camera and took pictures. My mother was not happy when the pictures were developed and she found pictures of the barnyard and Postal, the cat walking the fence of a corral. Jay and Laura got caught on camera snitching punch from the kitchen during our grandparents 50th anniversary celebration, which was at the church in Manassa, Colorado. While Jay finished high school and served his mission in Mississippi, Laura attended BYU. She went summers and graduated just before Jay started there in the fall of 1987. It probably helped that Laura moved with her husband to Connecticut right after her marriage. I think the State of Utah was relieved.

I have known Crystal and Jared since their births. Growing up, the two youngest Pughs had a typical sibling relationship. They got each other in trouble, but were also there for each other, even though they are four years apart. Jared would give Crystal rabbit ears in some pictures and Crystal made Jared wish he had a little brother instead of a little sister. It wasn’t until Jared’s homecoming that realized these two might be partners in crime when Mark put his smart phone just inside Crystal’s door. Jared was lying on Crystal’s bed getting a pedicure. Made me wonder what those two did to each other again.

Why I Blog

When I started this blog, I thought it was to share stories of growing up. I realize as I continue blogging that maybe it isn't so much memories I share, but sometimes every day life. The OJ story wasn't a memory, but an incident that made me laugh. Some of the posts I've shared lately have made me wonder why I decided to blog. I am single, never married or had children. Sometimes I get the impression that those who have children and/or are married may think I have no life. Maybe I am blogging so those who may think that a person in my situation does have a life. I don't just work; I am apart of family. I am adopted by a family in Midvale. Not sure if Jared and his siblings think of me as an aunt or just an adopted family member. And I must admit the title of my blog can be seen as blog for singles, which it isn't. I'm not promoting a singleness or searching for my soul mate on my blog. I'm just sharing my stories, whether it from a memory of days gone by or some current event. Well, I guess I am doing as I planned in the start - sharing my stories from life on a single road; a road that I share with others who have touched or are touching my life.

His Greatest Race

During the 1990’s, Jay usually ran the St. George Marathon the first weekend in October. At first it was just Jay and I, but soon John joined us in our trips south. Even Mom flew down a time or two on Skywest. The last few years we spend Friday at Mom’s cousins, Bill and Jan Boice.
October 2001 wasn’t any different than the years before. We drove down, ate at either a Wendy’s or a McDonald’s on the way and first stop once we got to St. George was to stop at the Dixie Center and pick up Jay’s race packet. While we were there, we would check out the other booths, especially those with samples. Then we ate spaghetti dinner at the Dixie Center before heading to the Boices for the night.
Since it was right after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, there was a booth for runners to sign up to run in behalf of those perished in the attacks. Most runners didn’t know one personally, so they ran for whoever was available. Dave Rasmussen, a co-worker from General Ledger, ran in behalf of some guy he never knew. Since Jay had met Eugene, Tracie's good friend, he asked for his name. Eugene was available and Jay was able to pin Eugene Whelan’s name to his bib.
Jay as usual, got up and met the bus at the park where the finish line was. When I dropped him off, it was quiet and dark, just the runners waiting for the next bus to take them to the starting line. At the usual time, the rest of us drove to the park and waited and waited. We began to worried because Jay’s time were usually under 4 hours. Jay had been complaining about his knees a bit and had not trained as he had in the past, so we checked the injured list. No Jay. Finally at 4 plus hours, Jay crossed the finish line. His knees were bothering him quite a bit, so he stopped for a break with the intention of dropping out of the race. But then after a short rest, he decided to continue. I don’t know if it was Eugene, the newest angel we knew of at the time, persuaded Jay to finish the race or if the rest gave Jay a second wind. Jay also mention that he had never quit a race before, so despite the pain, he gained courage and preserved. It was his worst time, but his greatest race. Jay had every reason to quit, but he endured to the end.

the lunchbox

I ride Trax every week night; that now I recognize the regulars and where they get on. Monday, I was buying a card for my sister at the campus store. One of the regulars spotted me and joked with me about who they let shop there. On Wednesday, he was at his usual seat and I was sitting accross from him. When we came to the stop before mine, he got off suddenly. As he left, his lunchbox fell to the floor, but he didn't noticed it. So I picked it up; I knew where he worked and I figured I could get it to him sooner than if he went to UTA's lost and found. A passenger and a UTA employee both told me to leave it on the train and the driver would do a search and take the lunchbox to UTA's lost and found the next day. From previous experience, I knew it wouldn't get to the lost and found until a day or two later. The driver probably drops any lost items at the bus warehouse somewhere in the middle of Salt Lake County. Then a runner or whoever brings it to the lost and found downtown.
So I took the lunchbox home, being mindful of it on my way home. I really didn't want to complicate things worse by leaving it on a UTA bus. So Thursday morning, I packed in a shopping bag with my book and whatever junk I may need for the day. As soon as the campus store opened, I took the lunchbox over. I delivered it thier information desk (or whatever it is called) by the in store post office. I gave to it a long time employee that I recognized. I told her the guy worked in the back, but I didn't know his name. Gave her a not so good description of him and she said she would put in the back.
When I got on Trax tonight, the guy came up behind and said thanks for returning it. He didn't miss it until morning and thought he had left it in his truck. It was a nice surprise to find it at his station when he arrived to work this morning. I was so grateful he got his lunchbox back. And I was glad I knew where he worked. Who knows what adventures that lunchbox would have had.

9/11 - 2001

10 years ago in late August, I went to the Salt Lake International Airport to see my Mom during a lay over. She flew in from Twin Falls and was heading to Seattle, where I would be going in a few days. For some reason, I felt I needed to be there. We chatted a bit as we sat near the gate and I left before her flight was called. It wasn't until two or three weeks later that I realized why I felt the urgency to visit her at the airport.**
On September 11th, I woke up and did the usual. Drank my orange juice, got dressed and went to the Cottonwood Mall to get my walk in before work. It was looking to be a nice September day. As I made my last walk thru the food court, the TV was broadcasting "Breaking News". I really didn't think much of it, because it seemed as if there was always "Breaking News" on CNN. I remember one of retirees, a regular mall walker, saying something about the current broadcast. But what was happening didn't hit me until I was driving to work. As usual, I had my radio tuned in B98.7fm and Brady and (can't remember his name) were talking about the planes attacking the Twin Towers in New York. When I got to work, I found out that a plane had also flown into the Pentagon. There was no way I would be able to hide in my selfish little world with this; the tragedy was too big to ignore.

Throughout the morning I listened to B98.7 as Brady and her co-anchor kept us informed. They stayed on the air for most of the day informing us of the events as they unfolded; when South and North towers collapsed, Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania and even when tower 7 collapsed. During lunch, CNN kept me and my friends informed. Kristen and I emailed each other during the day, sharing our thoughts and keeping each other informed. Needless to say, I didn't get much work done, but neither did anyone else. Blue Cross granted those who had children permission to leave for the day to pick up their children from school. I think Peggy was the only one from our department who left early, maybe Dawn left early too.
During the day, I kept thinking I knew of someone who perished at the towers. My cousin, Chris Boice was a pilot for American Airlines, so that might have been the reason for that feeling. When I talked to my mom that night, she informed me that Chris was in St. George with his parents. He either had a day off or was vacation. I was grateful he was okay, but I still could not shake the feeling that there was someone I knew.
A few days later, my sister Mary told me that my niece, Tracie lost a friend in New York. Eugene was a New York Firefighter who responded to the call of duty after his shift was over. Tracie and Eugene met in New York while she was a nanny. He followed her Portland while he waited for an opening in New York Fire Department. Eugene got the call; he left right away from Oregon. Tracie met Chris (not my cousin) and both started a family. I made an braided ankle bracelet of yard. I wore it for Eugene; the only time I would take it off was when I showered. It went to work, bed, walking, shopping, and even St. George with me. When Eugene's body was found, then I would remove it. I had heard that when a police officer or firefighter's body was found, a moment of silence occurred after an American flag was draped over his body. I never did receive word if or when his body was found, but I took it off in mid December. Somehow I sensed there was a closure and I pasted the bracelet in my journal. Eugene was at peace and we as citizens will always remember him and the others who vanished that September morning.

I read about this pin in The Salt Lake Tribune, bought it at the Olympic Store in Cottonwood Mall. I ordered this pin from Salt Lake Olympic Committee website. I received this on September 11, 2002. Regence Blue Cross Blue Shield of Utah. As we came in the door, each employee was given a pin. This statue honoring Firefighters who died September 11, 2001 is at the Belmont Firehouse in Portland OR area. Tracie, my niece was a part of the effort to create this memorial that was unveiled in 2005.

**After 9-11 attacks, security at the airport got tighter. Before 9-11, family and friends could meet with passengers at the gate. Now only people with tickets are allowed beyond the security check point.

After 9-11

I went to work on September 12th just I did the day before. I guess that was one of my first defiant acts that I directed toward the terrorists. When the thought of dropping out as a volunteer for Salt Lake Winter Olympics crossed my mind, I remained committed. I would not quit living.
Each year, I vowed to do something on September 11th to thumb at the terrorist. The first year was easy; I went to work as usual and got a pin for my efforts. In 2003, I was traveling across Iowa and crossed the Mississippi River. The next year, I found myself on Trax going downtown and to Sandy to see the healing field. In 2005, it was a Sunday and I went to church. The next year, I was less enthused about thumbing the terrorists. I went work for the first time on that date since 2002 and I rode a UTA bus to get there. The few years were like that until last year. September 11th was on a Saturday again.
Some say September 11th changed them. I am not so sure. Being in the west I was away from the events. I had no family members who were directly affected by the events, even I though Eugene was a good friend of my niece, Tracie. Over the years, I have read of a Kaysville family who lost their mom/grandmother and sister/aunt, who was in the first plane that crashed into the North Tower. I have read of Brady Howell’s widow, Liz, who served a mission after her husband died and was part of a medical team in Haiti when the earthquake rocked the tiny island nation.
I have changed over the years, but I don’t know if I could attribute the changes to September 11th. I now work at the University of Utah, after being laid off at the insurance company. I rely on public transportation, because I don’t have a car. And some of the changes are due to age. Maybe I am kinder; I still volunteer and give presents to my nieces and nephews on their birthdays. I donate to charities, which may be the result of September 11th. But I am basically the same person as I was before. I am Susan; I am an American and I love chocolate. I still believe in Jesus Christ, who is my savior and God, who was there on September 11, 2001. He did not abandon us and He never will.

Back to School

I saw this picture as I was going to bed last night. It is my older siblings on their first day of school. Every year my mom would take our picture while we waited for the bus to pick us up and take us back to school. When I looked at my oldest brother, Mike; I had to laugh. He does not look thrilled at all. John doesn’t look too happy either, but Mary is smiling; barely. Mike reminds me how I felt two weeks ago. Now that I work on campus, the first day of school no longer brings excitement; it just means a chaotic day on campus. It’s a mother of all Snoopy Mondays. In the past two weeks, school has started at most schools and colleges, Granite (the school district I live in) and Canyons (the school district Crystal attends) both started Monday, August 22nd. The University of Utah also started that same day. When I got off the bus, I noticed the campus was alive again. As I was heading toward the library, I noticed a freshman with a map asking another student questions. I even saw a parent, who after looking at one of the maps posted throughout the campus; ask me directions to the bookstore. That was where she had parked her car. She then commented that the maps were wrong. Granted it is easy to get turn around on the University campus, but all maps have north at the top and south at the bottom. When I got to the office where I work, I told my co-workers that an episode of Lost could have been filmed on campus (and probably others) this morning.

BYU (when my nephews and niece attend) and UVU (where Jared attends) started this past Monday,, August 29th. Both Brian and Jared were returning to campus after a two year absence from their campuses.

My niece’s daughters started this Thursday, September 1st in their new schools in the State of Washington. Vanessa was starting her senior year, while Isabella started first grade. If Vanessa pointed any sophomore or freshman in the wrong direction, it wasn’t intentional. She was probably as lost as they were and having a Snoopy Monday on a Thursday.