A Bike to Ride

The first bicycle Aileen and I owned as children we called “the clunker”. It was a 1950's pink Monark super deluxe bicycle. My dad kept telling us it was a top of the line bicycle, but it wasn't the 1950's
anymore. We would have been embarrassed to ride it, but it was the only bike we had and it was freedom. We took turns learning to ride until we had it mastered. When we finally obtained another bike in the family, we argued over who would ride the “lowrider” and who would get stuck with “the clunker”. Eventually, we all owned a Schwinn lowrider stingray bike and we were “cool”. If a friend didn't have a bike or someone couldn't ride because of a flat tire, we would walk. We walked and rode everywhere! Murray Park was about three miles away and in the summer we would ride there and swim all day at the pool. The shortcut was through winder dairy off of 59th South in Murray. What an adventure. Dirt rodes past the cows, through the woods and across the stream where there was sink mud that we always had to go look at and ponder what would happen if we fell in. We also took short trips to Arctic Circle, 7-11, and the bakery on 9th East. We would hang out at Skaggs and the shopping stores just past 56th South and 9th East. When we got older, the Fashion Place mall went up toward State street and we loved going there.
I still have a bicycle. Pete and I used to ride out through Snow Canyon before they charged an entrance fee. One beautiful Spring morning, we went riding. As we started up the incline into the Canyon I got really dizzy and collapsed on the path. A passerby offered to take me home and I accepted. Actually, Pete insisted. We haven't been bicycling much since then. I miss it. I really loved riding bicycles.

Aunt Dena's Piano

My Uncle Rex was in the Air Force. At age 8, I really didn't know what that meant, but I did know I was a bit envious of my cousins. They were moving to Hawaii for 3 years. To me, it sounded like a wonderful vacation. I remember receiving a trinket box with sea shells glued to the lid. I had never been on a beach and had never been able to pick up sea shells or have the waves of the ocean hit my feet. It sounded dreamy. While my cousins were in Hawaii learning hula dances, their piano became a part of our home. It was about one and one-half years after we had the piano that my parents decided to send Aileen and me to lessons. I loved my teacher! She was so sweet and always made me feel like I was a great piano player. I practiced and practiced so that I could make my teacher proud of me. I moved quickly through the first book. It was easy! The second book was a bit more challenging, but my teacher helped me through it. I was really enjoying the piano. As I advanced to the third book, I thought I was getting pretty good! My teacher took a few weeks off because she was getting married. Around the same time, I overheard a phone call from my Aunt Dena. She called clear from Hawaii. I listened intently as they talked about coming back to the states. And as I listened, I realized that they would want their piano back when they returned. No! I thought. They can't take the piano. What will I play? How will I continue my lessons? When my mom got off the phone, I asked her if they would take the piano. She said they would! How could they? Didn't they know I needed it? I was mad, very mad! Where were these thoughts coming from? I was normally the peacemaker. I never caused waves...but I was mad. How could they even think that taking the piano was fair? I told my mom I didn't want to take piano anymore. Not if they were going to take their piano back!!!
For a long time, I thought it was me that quit, but later on I found out that my teacher quit teaching because she moved away.

Pudding in the snow

Tonight I made tapioca pudding for Pete, one of his favorite desserts. As I cooked it, my mind wandered back to my childhood. My mother would make pudding in the winter quite often. Forget the instant pudding, there was no such thing. All the pudding was cooked on the stove or in the oven, not whipped up with cold milk, be it tapioca, vanilla, bread or rice pudding. As I poured my tapioca pudding into the individual dishes and prepared to place it into the refrigerator for cooling, the memories of how my mother used to place her pan of pudding out into the snow for cooling came into my mind. What a great resource for cooling that pudding. My children never had that memory living in southern Utah, where we rarely have snow in the winter. This memory brought a smile to my face!