Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 17, 1985 - Sanpete County

How nice it was that we had sidewalks and nice light streets and our own skiing hill up to the lime kiln-no
charge, no special costume required, all types of skis from barrel staves on up and then to come home to
an oven dinner of baked stuffed carp fish.
The celebration of the year was the Fourth of July. Oh, the ecstacies of waiting in the cool, soft dawn to
hear the Boom! Boom! Boom! of the cannon. Thrills raced up and down one's back in anticipation of the joys
of the day—new white organdy dresses, blue or pink ribbons, rosettes and rows of ruffles, new shoes which
would invariably wear blisters on our feet before the day was over. Either we bought them too small or they
were hard on feet used to running bare. Then to town—all the stores had outside booths and red and white
and blue bunting draped on them and we bought balloons and ice cream sundaes. For a very special treat, we
went into Anderson's Drug or Bart's Confectionary where we sat at small round tables and watched the huge
fan whirl around on the ceiling making it cool and elegant. We were served our sundaes and malts and-heaven
of heaven!—sometimes even banana splits in pretty crystal dishes. There were guns and firecrackers
and a show, baseball game or rodeo in the afternoon, that is, if we had saved enough money for a ticket or
could beg some more from our parents or our big brothers. But to the children, the parade was it. Large
wagons decorated and draped, pulled by the beautiful horses with decorated tassels on their bridles that
rustled as the horses impatiently tossed them about in their efforts to rid themselves of them. Once I
remember the queen of the parade was Sister Young—about 75 years of age.
On Saturday afternoons everyone went to the matinee. We pulled our smaller brothers and sisters
down there in a red wagon and we were fascinated by the continued melodramas where the hero or heroine
was left dangling over a cliff. Mr. McCafferty's violin would throb out its plaintive tones or Linc Thompson on
the piano would accompany them. Then there were the Our Gang Comedies, and one time, I won one of the
prizes — a doll, Topsy, the colored child„
Our industrial world was the pea cannery, and here, regardless of your strata of society, everyone
aspired to work. Of course the bosses worked in the offices, but, aside from that, preference was given to the
farmers' families — a rare thing. Later in the fall, as the silage ripened and the farmers hauled it home to their
livestock, we had a fragrance in town--not sweet, but well remembered.
We all had our own shopping centers. Ours was Kinnikinik's. Never did people who bought eggs have
them so fresh. They came direct from the hen, delivered by youths whose watchful eyes waited for that one
more egg to make enough to buy a ten cent package of stick candy. At a very early age we could run to the
store, our parents trusting to the help of the clerks to get what we wanted and put it on the bill. We always
got a sack of candy extra for going„ One of ray happy memories was when I was allowed to pay the bill, and
sometimes Mr. Hansen gave us a box of chocolates. I was the favored errand girl. I didn't mind going as I had a
horse to ride and could tether him to the sign boards and run in.
After the first dozen years my childhood world changed. The town and I changed and I suffered the
pangs of growing up, and gained an awareness of the limitations of me and my town with the five miles of
smooth highway leading out somewhere to a challenging and different world. But always Ephraim was a good
place to grow up in—where intelligence was given prominence, honesty was a virtue, love of family a must,
and respect was given to those who led in all walks of life; and for ourselves, these became traditions.
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