Thursday, January 1, 2009
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Dig dig dig
I will always remember sitting around Grandpa's feet listening to stories about Fritz and the dinosaur bone. Grandpa has the best sound effects and hand motions which captivated the attention of all the grandkids, who listened with rapt attention. When Granpda describes all the digging it takes to get those big dino bones out of the garden he would "DIG, dig dig dig dig" with his hands doing the actions on the chair, table, carpet, and each of us kids-in a very ticklish way.
Grandpa is one of the nicest, most sincere and loving people I know, or ever will. I hope I can tell stories to my kids and grandkids with the same love and excitement my Grandpa does.
Grandpa is one of the nicest, most sincere and loving people I know, or ever will. I hope I can tell stories to my kids and grandkids with the same love and excitement my Grandpa does.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
My Heck (By Nate)
Several years ago, when the kids were quite small we were on a visit to Logan. We suggested that it sure would be fun to go up to Mount Logan, a little hill right above Grandpa's house. So Grandpa said, "Well, climb into the Jeep and I'll show you how we used to do it".
We got up past the Girl Scout cabins at Temple Fork and started up the long and dusty road. The road up the backside of Mount Logan was not marked but we knew about where it took off the main dirt road.
The road got steeper and Grandpa knowingly decided to put it into 4 wheel drive. The road was amidst beautiful aspens and was quite smooth because of the rich dark brown dirt beneath it, but getting much steeper. Jake complained about getting car sick and we noticed for the first time, he didn't have his shoes with him. Grandpa slowed down. Eventually the road leveled out a little bit. We were just a little below the last ridge from the top when all of the sudden, "Psssshhhhhhh", and then the front right wheel became a little rough. Grandpa got out. He said, "Well my heck. What happened now". I climb out with Grandpa and there it was, a beautiful puncture/slit in the side of the tire. We looked around and tried to figure out what happened. There, just 20 feet in back of the front right tire was a rock sticking out of the mountain. It didn't look too sharp but it was ominously positioned and self evident what had happened..
Then Grandpa started to say,"My heck that stupid tire, what a cheap tire. I'll never buy that kind of tire again. What a cheap tire. My heck, ... my heck.... my heck."
I remember hitting the side of the hill pretty hard in the Jeep, and also figured Michelin brand tires to be the best and most expensive. Grandpa positioned the jeep to put a spare on and jacked up the jeep while everyone stood around. It was hot and we had already finished all the water. "My heck what a stupid tire, my heck." It was then we realized, the spare tire was a tiny donut.
I thought Grandpa was slow going up the hill to make it a smooth ride, but going down the steep winding rutted road with a donut, well I didn't know that a vehicle could go down a road that slow. I'm sure the brakes were heating up. I remember Grandpa saying "my heck" at least 50-100 times. I didn't know whether to laugh about Grandpa saying "my heck" or wine about going so slow, or cry because of the predicament we were in. I silently chuckled and finally begged him to go just a little faster so the brakes wouldn't give out. We got home without any further ado but my kids have never wanted to go back up to Mt. Logan.
Several years later, we were telling stories about the almost ride up Mt Logan. We were laughing about all the "my hecks" Grandpa had said. He chuckled and explained, "Well, 'my heck' wasn't what I wanted to say. It took a lot of 'my hecks' to make up for what I couldn't say around the little kids." It's all good, we all had a great laugh.
We got up past the Girl Scout cabins at Temple Fork and started up the long and dusty road. The road up the backside of Mount Logan was not marked but we knew about where it took off the main dirt road.
The road got steeper and Grandpa knowingly decided to put it into 4 wheel drive. The road was amidst beautiful aspens and was quite smooth because of the rich dark brown dirt beneath it, but getting much steeper. Jake complained about getting car sick and we noticed for the first time, he didn't have his shoes with him. Grandpa slowed down. Eventually the road leveled out a little bit. We were just a little below the last ridge from the top when all of the sudden, "Psssshhhhhhh", and then the front right wheel became a little rough. Grandpa got out. He said, "Well my heck. What happened now". I climb out with Grandpa and there it was, a beautiful puncture/slit in the side of the tire. We looked around and tried to figure out what happened. There, just 20 feet in back of the front right tire was a rock sticking out of the mountain. It didn't look too sharp but it was ominously positioned and self evident what had happened..
Then Grandpa started to say,"My heck that stupid tire, what a cheap tire. I'll never buy that kind of tire again. What a cheap tire. My heck, ... my heck.... my heck."
I remember hitting the side of the hill pretty hard in the Jeep, and also figured Michelin brand tires to be the best and most expensive. Grandpa positioned the jeep to put a spare on and jacked up the jeep while everyone stood around. It was hot and we had already finished all the water. "My heck what a stupid tire, my heck." It was then we realized, the spare tire was a tiny donut.
I thought Grandpa was slow going up the hill to make it a smooth ride, but going down the steep winding rutted road with a donut, well I didn't know that a vehicle could go down a road that slow. I'm sure the brakes were heating up. I remember Grandpa saying "my heck" at least 50-100 times. I didn't know whether to laugh about Grandpa saying "my heck" or wine about going so slow, or cry because of the predicament we were in. I silently chuckled and finally begged him to go just a little faster so the brakes wouldn't give out. We got home without any further ado but my kids have never wanted to go back up to Mt. Logan.
Several years later, we were telling stories about the almost ride up Mt Logan. We were laughing about all the "my hecks" Grandpa had said. He chuckled and explained, "Well, 'my heck' wasn't what I wanted to say. It took a lot of 'my hecks' to make up for what I couldn't say around the little kids." It's all good, we all had a great laugh.
Backyard Discoveries (By Bryce)
In August of 1968, the Fifields moved into the house at 1744 Country Club Drive. It was a very different house from the one we all know and appreciate. It was about 25 years old and the carpeting, paint, and kitchen flooring and counters had significant wear.
But the most interesting thing for us was the back yard. The home we had moved from in Pocatello, Idaho had some willow trees that had been planted from sticks and a couple of flowers. In contrast, this large back yard was a jungle. It had two very large pine trees and a midget pine tree – no good for climbing, however. Around the edge were planted flower beds. There were a dozen different kinds of flowers already blooming. There were large bushes all along the back and across the fence, a ditch. The ditch was truly amazing, because it was connected to the canal. The greatest thing of all was that we got to flood the yard with canal water. The first time we watered the back yard was a hot hot hot summer day. We turned the water down the ditch and watched it bubble through the bushes into the yard. Terry, Lynea, and I took off our shoes and socks, rolled up pant legs and joyfully started chasing around in the water.
Two huge shocks! First of all, we suddenly found out that the water was freshly melted snow. It was about 30 degrees below zero – don’t give me any grief those of you that have had high school physics. I know full well that water doesn’t customarily get that cold. But this was a high altitude phenomenon. Besides, Grandpa Fifield was watering the yard and he walked around in wading boots and none of the water touched his skin.
The second thing we discovered was that the bushes in the back left corner of the yard and along the back were all thorn bushes. The lawn on the back fourth of the yard was filled with thorns that had been shed over the space of 25 years. They were nasty and hurt our feet. However, because they were already num from the cold water, it didn’t matter. We still had fun. We watered several times that week and became gradually more accustomed to the cold and the thorns.
Later that fall and early in the spring, we gradually began the process of removing the thorn bushes. It started by going down to Everton’s hardware and purchasing some pruning shears. Then clipping some of the long nasty thorny bushes back. We weren’t very good at pruning. The bushes that had once been fairly tame and concealed their thorns well, started looking more and more ugly, the more we pruned them. Eventually all the foliage was gone and just the ugly underneath sides of the bushes were showing. We gingerly loaded the clippings into the green trailer for the trip to the dump.
Great Grandpa Fifield came and helped one time. We figured he would really know how to do a professional job on the bushes since he worked on the grounds of the Idaho Falls Temple. I remember him getting up early and working out in the back yard for a couple of hours. Finally, he came in for a drink of water. He said that he had just forced himself to put the shears down and walk away, because he was just clipping away at them too much.
It took a couple of years, but we eventually removed the big thorn bush in the back left corner. We also removed the row of thorn bushes along the back fence by having the Klines come over with their Jeep and pull each bush out with their winch.
To my personal terror, something way worse was reveled than thorn bushes. The white fence. It seems that 25 minutes after we moved into the house at 1744 Country Club Drive, my parents discovered that the fence behind all that landscaping needed painting – it still does. This fence is my nemesis. I and Terry were assigned to paint it. We couldn’t get behind the bushes (including the thorn bushes) to get at the darned thing. One top of that, the paint was badly pealing. Under the careful, and persistent, oversight of parents, climb behind bushes, and scrape pealing paint away to reveal bare wood. This in itself was an absolutely endless task. You could never get enough of the loose paint chips off to be fully satisfactory. When Terry and I finally got to do some painting, we had lost interest in the project and the potential for any financial return was so far removed that we didn’t take it seriously. We would paint for a while, a couple of fence segments (at least the ones that were easiest to get to), end up having a paint fight with each other and getting paint all over our paining clothes (that way it looked like we had been working way harder than we had), and hope that the weather would change soon enough or school to start so that we could be reprieved from the job.
We all have thorn bushes and white fences in our lives. Some of these projects need pruning and others need careful scraping and painting. We gained the ultimate victory over the thorn bushes and they have been permanently vanquished for the next generations at 1744 Country Club Drive. However, that darned fence is still there and whenever I walk with my kids or my grandchildren along the back fence, I look at the corners where the rails meet the posts and check for loose paint chips.
Bryce
But the most interesting thing for us was the back yard. The home we had moved from in Pocatello, Idaho had some willow trees that had been planted from sticks and a couple of flowers. In contrast, this large back yard was a jungle. It had two very large pine trees and a midget pine tree – no good for climbing, however. Around the edge were planted flower beds. There were a dozen different kinds of flowers already blooming. There were large bushes all along the back and across the fence, a ditch. The ditch was truly amazing, because it was connected to the canal. The greatest thing of all was that we got to flood the yard with canal water. The first time we watered the back yard was a hot hot hot summer day. We turned the water down the ditch and watched it bubble through the bushes into the yard. Terry, Lynea, and I took off our shoes and socks, rolled up pant legs and joyfully started chasing around in the water.
Two huge shocks! First of all, we suddenly found out that the water was freshly melted snow. It was about 30 degrees below zero – don’t give me any grief those of you that have had high school physics. I know full well that water doesn’t customarily get that cold. But this was a high altitude phenomenon. Besides, Grandpa Fifield was watering the yard and he walked around in wading boots and none of the water touched his skin.
The second thing we discovered was that the bushes in the back left corner of the yard and along the back were all thorn bushes. The lawn on the back fourth of the yard was filled with thorns that had been shed over the space of 25 years. They were nasty and hurt our feet. However, because they were already num from the cold water, it didn’t matter. We still had fun. We watered several times that week and became gradually more accustomed to the cold and the thorns.
Later that fall and early in the spring, we gradually began the process of removing the thorn bushes. It started by going down to Everton’s hardware and purchasing some pruning shears. Then clipping some of the long nasty thorny bushes back. We weren’t very good at pruning. The bushes that had once been fairly tame and concealed their thorns well, started looking more and more ugly, the more we pruned them. Eventually all the foliage was gone and just the ugly underneath sides of the bushes were showing. We gingerly loaded the clippings into the green trailer for the trip to the dump.
Great Grandpa Fifield came and helped one time. We figured he would really know how to do a professional job on the bushes since he worked on the grounds of the Idaho Falls Temple. I remember him getting up early and working out in the back yard for a couple of hours. Finally, he came in for a drink of water. He said that he had just forced himself to put the shears down and walk away, because he was just clipping away at them too much.
It took a couple of years, but we eventually removed the big thorn bush in the back left corner. We also removed the row of thorn bushes along the back fence by having the Klines come over with their Jeep and pull each bush out with their winch.
To my personal terror, something way worse was reveled than thorn bushes. The white fence. It seems that 25 minutes after we moved into the house at 1744 Country Club Drive, my parents discovered that the fence behind all that landscaping needed painting – it still does. This fence is my nemesis. I and Terry were assigned to paint it. We couldn’t get behind the bushes (including the thorn bushes) to get at the darned thing. One top of that, the paint was badly pealing. Under the careful, and persistent, oversight of parents, climb behind bushes, and scrape pealing paint away to reveal bare wood. This in itself was an absolutely endless task. You could never get enough of the loose paint chips off to be fully satisfactory. When Terry and I finally got to do some painting, we had lost interest in the project and the potential for any financial return was so far removed that we didn’t take it seriously. We would paint for a while, a couple of fence segments (at least the ones that were easiest to get to), end up having a paint fight with each other and getting paint all over our paining clothes (that way it looked like we had been working way harder than we had), and hope that the weather would change soon enough or school to start so that we could be reprieved from the job.
We all have thorn bushes and white fences in our lives. Some of these projects need pruning and others need careful scraping and painting. We gained the ultimate victory over the thorn bushes and they have been permanently vanquished for the next generations at 1744 Country Club Drive. However, that darned fence is still there and whenever I walk with my kids or my grandchildren along the back fence, I look at the corners where the rails meet the posts and check for loose paint chips.
Bryce
Clever, Witty and Wonderful (By Andrea)
I remember Grandpa taking family pictures in our backyard. He pushed the timer button like mom told him to and we all smiled pretty and waited for the camera to fire. By the time it finally fired, we were all caught off guard. So to help us out Grandpa tapped his foot animatedly and came up with a tune. By the time the tune was done the camera took the picture as if it were all perfectly timed out. We all laughed at the perfect timing. Especially Grandpa, "That was the luckiest guess I ever had," a husky chuckle came out. And we all laughed harder.
Another memory was when we were at his house and he had a long sheet of extreemly complicated music spread out on his piano and glasses neatly placed on the piano as if he had been playing the music not too long ago. "Wow Grandpa, that looks complicated. Are you really playing that"? someone asked.
"No, I put it there just for show," his husky chuckle came out again as he admitted the truth.
These are two of the many instances that I remember Grandpa being clever and witty then coming up with a line to put us all in stitches. That's what makes him the wonderful, fun grandpa that he is.
Thank you for all that you do and are Grandpa. You are such a blessing to have in our family, I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful year. Best wishes.
Andrea
Another memory was when we were at his house and he had a long sheet of extreemly complicated music spread out on his piano and glasses neatly placed on the piano as if he had been playing the music not too long ago. "Wow Grandpa, that looks complicated. Are you really playing that"? someone asked.
"No, I put it there just for show," his husky chuckle came out again as he admitted the truth.
These are two of the many instances that I remember Grandpa being clever and witty then coming up with a line to put us all in stitches. That's what makes him the wonderful, fun grandpa that he is.
Thank you for all that you do and are Grandpa. You are such a blessing to have in our family, I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful year. Best wishes.
Andrea
Best Grandpa Ever (By BJ)
The memories of Grandpa that I have are some of the best memories that I have both as an adult and as a child. One of my first memories is having a bath in the big blue tub and then running around the house nakiebum to dry off. The other early memories that I have are sitting on Grandpas lap late at night watching the snow fall, and deer come into the yard while Grandpa told mostly fictitious stories about hunting or camping with Fritz. There was nothing better than waking up in the morning to the sound of Grandpa slaving away in the kitchen, making his world famous ponkin eggs, peppered bacon, and pancakes. That was always the best way to start the morning before a long hard day of having loads of fun.
Grandpa is the only one in the world who can make mowing his yard fun. That could be due to the fact that the ride on the John Deere mower was probably the first thing that any of us kids drove that had four wheels. Watering the grass in the summer is also one of the fondest memories that I have. Walking up to the canal with Grandpa and Fritzie to open the gate and let the water out of the canal. Chasing it all the way back to the yard, jumping in our bathing suites and splashing through the water on the lawn. Inevitably the biggest water fight in the world would start, and then always end with someone feeling totally cold and picked on.
In the winter we got to use the snow blower to clean all of the fresh snow off of the drive way and sidewalks. The hot tub was always the perfect temperature but you could only stay in for five or ten minutes before you had to jump into the snow and do snow angels to cool off. Then it was time to jump right back into the hot tub until your body stopped tingling and you could feel your hands and toes.
Grandpa was always good about keeping us kids busy. In the winter it was snow sledding, skiing and tubing, and in the summer it was tubing down the canal and four wheeling. Saying goodbye is always something that also sticks in my mind. Grandpa would always stand on the front porch waving until we rounded the corner and couldn't see him anymore, no matter how cold it was outside.
Since I have grown up I have really come to enjoy the quality time that I have spent with Grandma and Grandpa. Having a nice dinner and great conversation is a different side to them both that I really cherish. Grandpa has a way of making everyone that he comes into contact with feel like they are the most important person in the world. Amber has felt like she has been a grand daughter of his her whole life. As we welcome our new baby into the world I hope that my daughter gets to enjoy the Grandpa that hasn't changed a bit. I know that she will also have the same memories of story telling and fun that could not be replaced.
In loving memory,
B.J. Ford
Grandpa is the only one in the world who can make mowing his yard fun. That could be due to the fact that the ride on the John Deere mower was probably the first thing that any of us kids drove that had four wheels. Watering the grass in the summer is also one of the fondest memories that I have. Walking up to the canal with Grandpa and Fritzie to open the gate and let the water out of the canal. Chasing it all the way back to the yard, jumping in our bathing suites and splashing through the water on the lawn. Inevitably the biggest water fight in the world would start, and then always end with someone feeling totally cold and picked on.
In the winter we got to use the snow blower to clean all of the fresh snow off of the drive way and sidewalks. The hot tub was always the perfect temperature but you could only stay in for five or ten minutes before you had to jump into the snow and do snow angels to cool off. Then it was time to jump right back into the hot tub until your body stopped tingling and you could feel your hands and toes.
Grandpa was always good about keeping us kids busy. In the winter it was snow sledding, skiing and tubing, and in the summer it was tubing down the canal and four wheeling. Saying goodbye is always something that also sticks in my mind. Grandpa would always stand on the front porch waving until we rounded the corner and couldn't see him anymore, no matter how cold it was outside.
Since I have grown up I have really come to enjoy the quality time that I have spent with Grandma and Grandpa. Having a nice dinner and great conversation is a different side to them both that I really cherish. Grandpa has a way of making everyone that he comes into contact with feel like they are the most important person in the world. Amber has felt like she has been a grand daughter of his her whole life. As we welcome our new baby into the world I hope that my daughter gets to enjoy the Grandpa that hasn't changed a bit. I know that she will also have the same memories of story telling and fun that could not be replaced.
In loving memory,
B.J. Ford
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Embracing Life (By Lynea)
Some of the best memories I have from growing up are the times we spent as a family doing awesome activities. We were always off skiing, boating, camping, fishing, or dirtbike riding. My dad always made sure that the time he spent with us was quality time. It was what kept us together.
As I started raising my own kids, I wanted to share the same types of experiences with them. We taught them how to enjoy each season of the year and love the outdoors. We raised them in mountains and on lakes even though we lived in the desert. We embraced our time together and created a family identity that embraces life, just as my dad taught me. And it keeps us together. Thanks Dad!
As I started raising my own kids, I wanted to share the same types of experiences with them. We taught them how to enjoy each season of the year and love the outdoors. We raised them in mountains and on lakes even though we lived in the desert. We embraced our time together and created a family identity that embraces life, just as my dad taught me. And it keeps us together. Thanks Dad!
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