Mr. Mailman & Mr. Tomato Man

Rick and I were driving a few days ago and he said, "oh, I forgot to tell you…I met your old mailman."  What.  He said that he had this old man come in and he got talking to him and he discovered that he was the Arctic Circle mailman for years.  He said that often times he would come in and get his lunch and then find out that there was no charge.  My dad wouldn't charge him for his lunch!!  I remember him coming in for years and years.  Always so kind and nice.  I don't remember how we knew that it was his last day delivering mail, but he came to Arctic Circle for lunch on his last day of work.  Dad paid for his lunch on that day, too.  I remember it well.  He always ordered a small hamburger and small order of fries and a water.  He would always eat quickly so he could be back on his way to deliver mail, but he always hollered, "Thank you" and "Goodbye" as he would leave.

I asked Rick how he figured out the connection.  He said that he asked the man where he lived and he said Orem.  He asked what he did for a living and he said he delivered mail in South Orem.  He mentioned that he delivered mail to the businesses down there.  Rick told him that his wife's family had a business down there.  Mr. Mailman asked what business and Rick said, "Arctic Circle."  Mr. Mailman said that he delivered mail to Arctic Circle and to Kent for years.  Rick said "That's the business her family owned.  My wife worked there for 13 years.  Kent is my father-in-law"  He remembered us!!  He said that he loved going in there for all of his years of delivering mail because we were all so nice and friendly.  He continued to stop in every once in a while after he retired, too.

Mr. Mailman's brother was the Tomato man.  They looked just alike, except Mr. Tomato Man had darker hair.  He came in for years, as well.  He lived on a big piece of property on 1200 South in Orem (which is now RC Willey or across the street where the car dealership is, I believe).  After he retired, he just grew a bigger and bigger garden every year.  So, he started selling his garden tomatoes to my dad every summer for Arctic Circle.  He charged $5 per case which was a huge bargain considering that during certain times of the year we paid $30 to $40 for a case of tomatoes.  And everyone knows that garden tomatoes are 10x better than greenhouse tomatoes.  I still think of Mr. Tomato Man every time I plant my tomatoes.  I planted 20 plants this year.  I wonder how many plants Mr. Tomato Man planted.  Mr. Tomato Man brought his grandson in one time and asked us if we could help him.  He was a cute kid, but prone to getting into trouble.  My Dad gave Nate a job.  He worked hard and dad scheduled him enough hours every week that he didn't have time to get into trouble.  He was a likable kid and we all did a good job helping him stay out of trouble, at least during the time he spent working at Arctic Circle.  

*names have been changed in this story so that Rick doesn't lose his job. 

2014 Family History Project

I read about this project a few weeks ago and I've been trying to decide if I can/will be able to accomplish it.

I think I'll give it a try!

This is what I want to do…

Each month I have picked an ancestor that I want to focus on and learn more about.

Some of them, like my dad, I know a lot about.  Others, I know very little about, like some of Rick's grandparents.

So, I have chosen 6 of my ancestors and 6 of Rick's ancestors and assigned them to alternating months.

Each month we will gather stories and pictures of the ancestor, display pictures, read stories, and share memories of that particular ancestor. 

 Then, hopefully, we will have enough information to put together into a book and keep for my kids.

Here is the list of ancestors and their assigned month.  I assigned them months according to life events, like birthdays, or death days.  And I alternated between our 2 families each month.

I am happy to share the things that I gather, but would really love any input, pictures, stories, etc. from others, as well.

Here are the ancestors…

January:  Ethel Norton Dalton

February:  John Jalmer /Her Love E/

March:  Kent Norman Robison

April:  Zelda Sperry

May:  Morgan Leon Dalton

June:  Lillie Susana Jarvi /Her Love E/

July:  Norman Adelbert Robison

August:  Clead Blackett

September:  Faye Barney Robison

October:  Fred Edgar Hill

November:  William Adelbert Robison

December:  Uncle Dick

The pictures above are some of my favorites.  I hope to collect a few more to get scanned and onto my computer.  But, even better, I would love to get some of them printed up and displayed in my home.

So, we're starting with Grandma Ethel.  

Her birthday is January 11 and she would be 98 years old this year.  

Watch for more stories and pictures to come this month to celebrate Grandma Ethel.

cowboy boots and such

This is a picture of my Uncle Dell from a few summers ago.

He had a birthday last month and as the youngest sibling has now outlived my dad, who was the oldest sibling.  Kind of weird.  My dads siblings have all now officially out lived him.

I went to Arctic Circle yesterday with Sierra and Cole while I was out and about in the big city.

We stopped to grab a bite to eat and sat in "Kent's Booth" while we waited for our food.

I reminded the kids about my dad.

Cole continues to call him Uncle Kent.

Sierra said that she can only remember a few things about him.

Then, a funny thing happened.

Guy came in.  Guy is the most regular of all regulars.

He has been coming in to AC for lunch for as long as I can remember.

He sat down in the booth next to us and said...

"I sure miss your dad.

With that silly-ass mustache,

and those damn clompitty clomp cowboy boots.

But I still miss him."

It just made me laugh.  Only Guy can say things like that and have it not be offensive.

Happy Birthday

My Dad's Birthday was March 25.

And it was a Sunday.

So, we threw a party.

Lanny hosted the shin-dig because he lives closest to the cemetery.

And in my family, we are kinda cemetery nuts.

So, we had a little BBQ...

 Looks like Jason found the best seat in the house yard.

He had good company.  Not sure how much he enjoyed his meal like that...

love the socks, Lanny.  socks with crocs.  black socks with crocs.

black socks with crocs with camo.

Gage enjoyed the cupcake top.  

Oreo mint.  Brandi found the recipe on Pinterest.  score.

 Lanny, Brody, and Grandma Nan

Brandi

Things were a little too quiet, so Lanny broke out the BB gun.

These are cards that Lanny's kids made for my dad.

The favorite one of mine is the green one, "His favorite color is green"

After the party, we all drove up to the cemetery to clean of the headstone and put some flowers at my dad's grave.  Miss ya dad.

Wooden Spools

 Here is my vintage canning jar with my vintage wooden spools.

Then I went thrifting a few weeks ago and got all this for just $3:

 I more than doubled my wooden spool collection.

 I'm loving all the bright colors.

Hard to tell but the prices are .25, .35, and some .50 

But the ones with yellow price tags... 8 Cents!

Much better price than the 8.00 quilting thread I have been buying.

Wooden spools remind me of my dad.

One time we were in Circleville and he asked my Grandma Ethel if she had a wooden spool that we could use.  Of course, she said yes.  My dad hammered 4 tiny little nails in the top in a square pattern around the hole.  Then he taught me how to use a hook and "crochet" the thread into a long cord by wrapping the thread around the nails and pulling it over top with the hook.  Or does that count as "knitting"?...I don't know.  But the wooden spools still always remind me of my dad.  When I was a kid I thought he knew everything.  Probably just because he was good at math.  And because he knew how to set up a quilting frame.

8 years ago and a Tender Mercy

Last week marked 8 years ago since my dad died.

My sister wrote about it on her blog here Papa Kent

My brother wrote about it on facebook.

Cole and I went to the cemetery to take flowers (he kept referring to him as "Uncle Kent".

oh well.  He'll get it one of these days.)

But, there's a story that I feel that I need to record about my dad and this is as good a time as any.

I did share this a few weeks ago at YW, but I wanted to make sure that I had it written down...

It's really kinda 2 stories that work their way together at the end.

Lots of years ago at Christmas time when Summer was a baby we were visiting Utah from Missouri.

Rick's family is small and so is mine, so even though it was a "H" family get-together, my mom, dad, and Bryan came as well.  Rick's mom had put together a little program for Christmas Eve.  

One of the things that she did was give us each a little slip of paper where we could write down a gift to give the Savior that we could work on throughout the year.  After everyone had filled out their slip of paper, we gathered them all up and put them in a box and Rick's mom wrapped it all up.

The following year, the box was opened on Christmas Eve.

However, Sierra was a newborn and we were living in Michigan and couldn't afford to come to Utah for the holidays.  So, Rick's mom took the little slips of paper that belonged to me, Rick, and my mom and dad, and Bryan and put them in an envelope and mailed them to us.

I laughed when I opened them and read them.

Bryan's said that his gift for the year was to help get his very recently returned missionary brother married (which did happen in August of that year).

I don't remember what Rick's or my mom's slip of paper said.

But, I kept my paper and my dad's paper.

I tucked them away in a box with sticky notes and stationary.

(Pause for Story #1, begin Story #2)

Last Summer/Fall, I was troubled by some things in my life.

I tried to talk it out on several occasions and with multiple people, but it didn't really seam to make a difference.  And then I was called out by some of those people in that the very thing that I was having a problem with, was a characteristic that I wasn't necessarily exhibiting myself (sorry if that's complicated. because it is).

I was so confused.  

So, (plug for Personal Progress) since I was working on Personal Progress for Young Women, I looked at one of the goals that I still needed to accomplish.  

There seemed to be several that could help me, but Knowledge #4 stuck out to me:

Select a gospel principle you would like to understand better (for example, faith, repentance, charity, eternal families, or baptismal covenants). 

Read scriptures and the words of latter-day prophets that relate to the principle. 

The subject that I was researching was actually quite broad and it took me a long time to read enough about it that I thought it would do me any good...more like a 10 hour value project than just a value experience!!

I finally felt like I had come to terms with this thing that was troubling me and I was starting to get a grip on it when I was looking for some stationary to use for a Young Women's Lesson that I was preparing.  

I had completely forgotten about those little slips of paper that I had tucked away so many years ago.

But, as I was looking through the box, this little slip of paper fell out:

It was like my dad was right there, giving me advice and telling me what to do.

If you know my dad, he was always a man of few words when in came to serious stuff.

Never one to preach.

But, this is exactly what I needed to hear to figure out a way to deal with the thing I was struggling with.

I just read that little slip of paper and cried.

Then I put it on my bulletin board by my desk where I look at it every day.

Right below it is a picture of my dad.

How could those 3 words + my dad's name written 12+ years ago be the answer to what I needed to hear.

I have to admit, that I do not think that I would have understood the message if I had not been working on Personal Progress and making an effort to learn more about certain principles.

Thank heavens for Personal Progress.  And Tender Mercies.

Miss you, dad.

Happy Veteran's Day

1/11/2004

what I heard at lunch last week...

Just before we went to Hawaii, my Aunt Pam who lives in Salt Lake was in a terrible car accident in Spanish Fork Canyon.  She and her husband were on their way to Houston to help a long time friend that had some health problems.  It was storming and Pam & Ed were trying to get out of town and on the road before the storm hit.  Unfortunately, the roads were already bad as they were going up Billy's Mountain.  A truck was sliding towards them and they were hit pretty bad.  It took them quite a while to get help because of the weather.  They took Pam & Ed to UVRMC.  Rick wasn't working, but one of his partners called him as soon as they found out there was a connection.  Rick and I went to the hospital to check on them and be there until the rest of the family could be notified.  

Last week Pam had a follow up appointment in Provo so they planned to meet at Arctic Circle for lunch.  Mom brought Brandi. Rick and I came with Cole after he got out of school.  Lanny was there working, of course, so we had a little family lunch.  It was fun.  And tasty.  

So, here is the story that I heard at last last week...

Pam mentioned something about when she was little and she lived with Aunt Jenny.

I had no idea what she was talking about so I asked why she lived with Jenny.

When my dad was 3 (born in March) and Pam was 18 months (born in September) my Grandma Faye delivered twin girls, Connie and Carma.

They were tiny, just 3 pounds.  The doctor told her to take them home, put them in shoe boxes and place a light bulb under the boxes to help keep them warm and safe.  

Well, with 4 kids under age 3 and 2 tiny newborns to take care of, Faye sent Pam down the road to live with Aunt Jenny who didn't have any children at the time.  Pam said she lived there for about a year.

She remembers Jenny being strict.  She remembers being potty trained at Aunt Jenny's house.  One memory she had was sneaking into the room where her clothes were folded neatly in a box and trying to sneak out a pair of dry panties so aunt Jenny wouldn't know that she had an accident.

This picture must have been taken just a year or so after the twins were born.  

I wonder who made those dresses.  

My Grandma Faye could crochet like no other.  

But how in the world would she have time for that with 4 little ones?

Happy Mother's Day (vintage style)

A Mother's day card

to Faye Barney Robison

from his son, Kent Norman Robison

3rd grade, 1954

Happy Birthday Dad

Today is my Dad's birthday.  

This is a photo taken in 1945 of my dad and his dad, Norman Adelbert Robison.

One thing that you may or may not know about my dad is that he always, Always, ALWAYS wore cowboy boots (well, except for that stretch when he took tennis lessons).

He was even known to wear his boots when he rode his bike.

He wore them to work.  He wore them to Church.  He wore them to bed...well, not in bed, but all the way TO bed when he would sit down on the bed, take off his boots, and slide into bed.

The boots were right there waiting for him when we got up the next morning.

A quick shower and then the boots went right back on.

I remember as a child when my mom and dad would travel (usually to places like Reno or Sun Valley for Arctic Circle Conventions) my Dad would come home with a new pair of Tony Llamas (boots, for those of you who don't know your brands).

He would usually only get a new pair of boots every 1 to 2 years.  And I don't ever remember him throwing away a pair of boots.  Ever.

(I have a story coming about some boots that my dad purchased...maybe later today.)

Another story that I think about when I think about my dad woking on the farm with his dad or when I am doing yard work and the kids want to help me,  I think of this story...

My dad told me that one time he was helping his dad haul some hay to feed the animals.

They were in the back of a pickup truck, using pitchforks to toss hay out to the animals.

When they were done, my Grandpa dropped his pitchfork down to the ground so that it stuck into the ground and then used it to hang onto as he jumped to the ground. (all in one quick motion)

Well, as all little boys do, my dad wanted to do it just like his dad.

So, (as I imagine it)...this little boy, helping, and wanting to be just like his dad, tossed the sharp end of his pitchfork over the side and hoisted himself out of the truck and landed on the ground.

Only when he got to the ground and reached to pull out his pitchfork, did my Dad realize that as he tossed his pitchfork out, it had not made it into the ground, but into the back of my Grandpa's leg.

So, every time I see a pitch fork, or my kids want to help with the garden tools, I tell them to be careful and remind them what happened to my dad and the pitchfork.

And it's snowing today.  There is a photo of my dad shoveling snow on his birthday.  So, we always remind ourselves when the weather is bad in March, that it can snow a foot as late as March 25 in Utah because it always snows on my dad's birthday.  Except in 1995 when the weather was perfect.

The house where I was born...

well, technically I wasn't BORN in this house.  I was born in the hospital just down the road.  In Richfield, Utah.  But, this is the house where I lived until we moved to Provo when I was about 2.

 My parents rented part of this yellowish brick house from a couple named Harold and Ranon Hansen.  The house is located on Main Street at about 400 North, across from the park.  Every time I have ever gone to Richfield we always drive past the house, slowly to take a peak. I had to go to Richfield last week and I stopped to take a quick picture.  I didn't think about ME being in the picture until after I got home.  That was dumb.  I should have been in the photo.  But, I was a little intimidated by the large woman smoking on the porch.  I was afraid she was going to report me for stalking her or something.  So, I snapped a quick picture and headed on my way.

The pictures below were taken in front of this same house when I was age 1 to 2.  Well, you can barely see the house in most of the photos, but since I am in the pictures and this week it's all about me, I thought I would just post them anyway.

Kelli & Kent, Richfield, 2/71

Kelli, 2/71

Kelli, 2/71

A few more shots of me and the house.  These were taken when I was age 2.

Kelli and Kent, Richfield, 1972

PS

I did get a few comments (on the blog and in person) about Lanny looking like my Dad.  A lot of people seem to think so.  I asked my mom and she said that she doesn't see it so much.  If anything, it's the nose.  I had a dream last night about my dad.  We were working at Arctic Circle.  I was doing dishes and cleaning the restrooms.  Weird.  

Happy Birth Week to me

At church today, the Relief Society President came in YW and gave me a birthday happy.

I was certainly surprised since my birthday is in exactly one week.

I took it as a sign that I should be celebrating my birthday all week long.

And because of my recent family history class experience, 

I have been going through all kinds of old papers, photos, and treasures.

Soooo, be prepared for Kelli overload.

This photo was taken in Circleville, Utah.

This is Kelli and Kent.

It was my blessing day.

Happy Valentines Day

Valentine Card.  To My Mother.  From Kent, age 11, 1956

Inside of the card.

My mom called me yesterday and was asking about some old photos.  I looked through the envelope of photos that I had and I came across this Valentine.  It has a little note on the back side where my Grandma Faye has written "from Kent, age 11, 1956".  There is pencil writing inside the red, crayon heart on the front that says, "Mother".  And the faded line at the bottom says, "your son Kent"

The words are:

My Mother

Oh Mother Dear, I'm glad

to hear that I'm your Dear

You sew and sweep and work

all day and help the little ones

to pray.  Oh tell me when

Mothers play,

your son Kent

1965

I'm slightly obscessed with obituaries. I know. I'm weird.

But this is what happened...As I was getting in the shower one afternoon last week, I was listening to the news and a name caught my attention. The news person announced that long-time Sevier County Sheriff, Phil Barney had passed away. This name caught my attention because I had heard my dad speak this name numerous times as he recounted stories of growing up in Sevier County. Phil Barney was one of my dad's best friends growing up in Annabella, Utah. And I'm not certain of their relationship, I just always assumed that they were cousins since my dad's mother was a Barney.

I suppose that the closest I ever came to meeting this man was when he came to my dad's funeral a few years ago, although I don't specifically recall the exact event. He probably did come into the Arctic Circle on occasion over the years to visit my dad as well, but I don't know for certain.

The name Phil Barney has also been in my mind recently because of a conversation that I had with my Aunt Shirley while visiting Capitol Reef this past summer. I had meant to record this little story, but now is as good a time as any. While driving to Capitol Reef I pointed out Monroe Mountain and mentioned that that is where my Grandpa Robison died in July of 1965. When we got to Torrey and settled in to camp, we went and visited with Shirley for a bit. She had just had surgery and was taking it easy. I asked her about my Grandpa and the story of when he died.

Here is the story that she recounted to me...

Grandpa Norman Robison, Dell Robison (my uncle), Gerald Robinson (my uncle), and Phil Barney were up on Monroe Mountain. Their truck had gotten stuck--really stuck. They could not get it out. So, Phil and Gerald started walking down the mountain to get help. Dell and my Grandpa stayed at the truck to wait. And apparently my Grandpa had a heart attack. When Phil and Gerald got back with help, it was too late and my Grandpa had died. Shirley told how the day unfolded. They got everyone back to town. There was a bed in the living room that my Grandma Fay was staying in. She had her own "heart condition" and was supposed to be resting and recovering in the bed. All of the kids knew that their father had died. But the doctor would not allow anyone to tell Fay that Norman had died because it might be too much for her heart to handle. So, the kids just sat around being nervous and edgy. The doctor came and gave my Grandma a shot to keep her calm. Once the medication took effect, they were allowed to tell her about Norman. She later said that she already knew something bad had happened. My dad was not there yet because he was in Las Vegas working at a service station for the sumer.

So, that left my dad, the oldest and just out of high school down to Dell, the youngest at age 9 with 4 sisters in between without a father.

So, that is why the name Phil Barney had been in my head recently. He was part of the day that my Grandpa Robison died.

I have asked my aunts and uncles for stories about my Grandpa for a long time--long before my dad died. Since my Grandpa died 5 years before I was born, I knew very little about this man and I wanted to know more. I imagined him to be a lot like my dad in some ways. I just wanted to know more so I asked for stories. I didn't get any stories. My dad's siblings just said that it was too hard for them to talk about their dad because he had died when they were so young and at such critical points in their lives. It was too painful for any of them to write about him or talk about him, so I never got any details from any of them. I am sad now that my dad is also gone, so it is very important for me to write about my dad when I think of him so that my kids will know the kind of person that he was.

So, I'm sure there are many details that I don't know about from this day in 1965. If anyone who reads this knows more or can make any corrections, I would find it very valuable.

And because of my weird "thing" for obituaries...

here is a snippet of Phil's obituary--what a good man he was:

We are grateful for his good life, lived in the service of his fellow men. He served in law enforcement for 43 years, as a bishop of the Salina 4th Ward and as president of the Salina Utah Stake. Phil was born September 23, 1942 in Richfield to Harold J and Vera JaLune Barney. He was raised in the wonderful community of Central Valley and graduated from South Sevier High School in 1960. Active in high school sports, his heart was ever appreciative of his roots and to those who influenced his life for good. He served in the United States Army from 1961-1963 and attended college at Southern Utah University and Brigham Young University. On September 16, 1966 he married Sylvia Marie Gates in the Manti Temple. Forty-four years of loving and supporting each other will be continued through all eternity. Phil found his "niche" in law enforcement. His 43 years of service began as an officer for Richfield City in 1967. In 1968 he was hired by the Utah Highway Patrol. He was outstanding in his dedication to work, being highly recognized for his success in stolen car arrests and drug interdiction. The federal DEA included him as an instructor in drug interdiction conferences throughout the country. After 21 years, he hired on with Sevier County as a deputy continuing his efforts in drug task force work and drug interdiction. In 1999 he was elected as Sevier County Sheriff where he was serving his third term at the time of his death. Phil loved his officers, thoroughly enjoyed being involved with them and was very proud of his department and their exceptional work. He greatly enjoyed his involvement with the Utah Association of Sheriffs where he had served as an officer and president. Phil's greatest joy was his life with his wife and family.

Noxious Weeds or Beautiful Blossom?

Thistles remind me of my dad.

I think that it was his passion in life to single handedly eradicate the world of this beautiful purple blooming cousin to the artichoke.

When he would go to Fairview to his cabin and find a Thistle growing on the property, no one could do a thing, not even potty, until every Thistle plant was uprooted and destroyed.

Last week when we rode on Skyline Drive, the mountain was full of purple blossoms.

My dad would have flipped at all of the millions of Thistle plants in bloom.

I kinda thought they were pretty.

Cole got a kick out of touching the purple blossoms that were still soft and not prickley.

There are some Thistle plants growing in my front yard right now.

I keep thinking I need to get my tail in gear and get them out--Dad would be so disappointed.

But, after seeing them blossoming so beautifully on Skyline Drive, maybe I will let them just grow for a few more days until I see a pretty purple flower

(but I WILL get rid of them before they go to seed unlike my sweet, kind, old, grumpy next door neighbor whom I think plants Thistle seeds just to spite me...)

Happy Father's Day

My dad was pretty lucky when he was a kid.

He was the oldest of 6 kids.

But his aunt Jenny was a school teacher and every year when they would have school pictures, my Grandma Faye would take him down to the school to get his picture taken with the school kids even before he was old enough to go to school.

So, he was lucky to have so many cute photos taken of him as he was growing up.

Now that I think about it, I guess that I am the lucky one because I get to look at the pictures of him.

This is my dad and his younger brother, Dell.

Miss you, Dad.

birthday gift from Mom

Isn't this the cutest?

This is a picture of my mom and dad. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to get a copy of these pictures. Especially the one of my dad since he died. Well, my mom made me a copy and framed them and gave them to me on my birthday. I put them on the wall where I already had a nail and had taken down a Christmas decoration. I need to find a better spot. I have something in mind but it will take some paint, and a few more nails. It's on my list of things to do!