tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79212958454616400452024-02-06T21:05:43.467-08:00Moccasin & Her PeopleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-55011845428502503612008-02-12T07:23:00.000-08:002008-02-13T08:33:49.188-08:00THE STORY OF MOCCASIN<p class="MsoNormal">An Indian wandering his way over the hills, down the canyon and through the valleys, stopped at a bubbling spring, was refreshed by its clear water, and left his “moccasin” footprints in the soft earth. Later a white man, finding the spring with Indian moccasin footprints and a lone moccasin left by other Indians, called it Moccasin Springs.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->This white man, William B. Maxwell, saw the possibilities of land, feed, and water for livestock, so he took up a claim in the year 1863. Maxwell later sold his claim to a Mr. Rhodes for 80 head of sheep. This claim was located in the area known as Moccasin Springs. The area included three springs: two close together, and one a short distance away, now known as Sand Spring because of the clear sand in the spring.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Mr. Rhodes, with his partner Randall Alexander, settled at Moccasin and bought more land from the Indians. They built a snug log cabin just west of the springs. Four Alexander brothers later acquired the property with the plan to raise cattle and carry on a dairying operation, but Indian trouble caused the ranch to be vacated in 1866 and the log cabin weathered away.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->In 1871, Levi Stewart and others purchased the Alexander claim and divided it into eight to ten shares. A company under Lewis Allen, consisting of people who had left their homes in the Muddy Mission, located temporarily at Pipe Spring and Moccasin. Lewis Allen and Willis Webb, his son—in—law, built two cabins and plowed the land. Being attracted to the United Order at Orderville, they joined, turning all of their property into the Order.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Taken from Andrew Jackson Allen’s journal (he was Lewis Allen’s brother). </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""></i></p><blockquote><i style="">June 15, 1878 — received a letter from Lewis Allen. He tells me that he has put all of his property into the Order at Orderville to see how he likes it. Tells me it is doing first rate. They all live alike.</i><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /></blockquote> <!--[endif]-->John Covington, a member of the Order, was given charge of the Moccasin property. Vegetables, grapes, peaches, plums, pears, and melons were raised. Cane fields were planted, and barrel upon barrel of molasses was made and sent to the Order — eight thousand, six hundred gallon a year.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The Canaan Cattle Company, owned by the L.D.S, Church, had purchased a one—third interest in the spring from the Winsor Stock Growing Association, who had bought it in 1870. Following President Brigham Young’s advice to help rather than fight the Indians, the Order bought the Canaan interest and gave it, along with ten acres of land, to the Paiute Indians. The Indians lived in Wigwams along the foot of the hill south of Moccasin, Later, about 1910, the Government built five or six one room, rock houses for them two miles south of Moccasin and their one—third interest of the water was piped to a pond at that location.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Christopher Heaton was sent to Moccasin to succeed Covington in 1883. He was to be a missionary to the Indians to teach them farming. However, this did not prove too successful. Helping Chris at Moccasin were his brothers Jonathan, Alvin, Will, and Fred.<span style=""> </span>At various times their families were with them.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->When the Order at Orderville broke up, the Moccasin Springs property, along with other property, was given to the Heaton Brothers. It had fallen into good hands, for the boys, like their father William, were natural agriculturalists — industrious, thrifty, tillers of the soil.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The following information was copied from the Orderville Ward records in <b style=""><span style="color:red;">1877</span></b>: <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><blockquote>Sep. 11, 1883. In a meeting items were listed and among them Moccasin Farm and large pasture was valued at $2500.00. July 14, 1900 at 8 p.m. the United Order Corporation expires on that date. Moccasin Farm and large pasture valued at $2500.00. Tools to the amount of $50.00. Teams, wagons, the harnesses $300.00. Cane mill $125.00. Pigs and chickens amounting to $50.00. 50 gallons of molasses at Moccasin was assigned to the Mt. Carmel Farm.<br /></blockquote></i>The families, which were small in the beginning, lived in the log cabins — sometimes two families to a cabin, dividing the work, cooking, taking care of the milk, butter, fields, and animals. They lived happily and harmoniously together.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->When the “Big House” was built by Dellie Webb and Heber Ayers, about 1875, a real home was brought into being. This lumber house was located about a quarter of a mile east of the Sand Springs, at the foot of a low sandy hill.<br /><br />Chris, being the oldest of the brothers, took the lead as long as he lived at Moccasin. He directed the work and the workers. He took charge of the Sunday Schools and Meetings, teaching and living his religion. The Heaton’s sincerely lived, to the letter, the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The men were kind to their families, taught their families to pray, to work, and to obey.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->In 1890 Christopher B. Heaton moved to Old Mexico with his family. The evening before he and his family were to leave, their Indian neighbors came to bid them goodbye. They especially liked and respected Chris. The next morning their company pulled out. At a place to the east of Pipe Spring, called Two Mile, Chris noticed a lone figure to the rear running to catch up with them. He soon recognized Captain Frank, a special friend and Chief of the Tribe. He had missed the farewell the night before and wanted to pay his respects. It was a sad parting for the white and Indian brothers.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->So close was the brotherhood between Jonathan and Chris that when Chris met his death at the hands of Mexican rebels, Jonathan knew it. He was dipping sheep at the Moccasin Ranch late one fall afternoon in 1894 when suddenly he stood straight and still as if listening, “Something has happened to Chris’ he exclaimed, “something has happened to my brother”.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><br /><br />It was no surprise when the word finally reached him. The brothers in Utah counseled together and it was decided that the youngest brother, Fred, would make the sad journey to Mexico to settle the affairs of Christopher and move his family back home.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The time came when Jonathan and Alvin (having purchased Fred and Will’s interest prior to this time) decided to divide their holdings. The Moccasin property seemed to be first choice. The property at the Green was good, but the families had not become attached to it as they had Moccasin. All of the Heaton’s who had ever lived at Moccasin had loved it there.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->It took about three days to make the division. There was never a sign of misunderstanding or disagreement.<span style=""> </span>The love and unity which existed between the brothers was very apparent at this time. We do not know exactly what transpired or what their reasons were for the division they made, but I’m sure they each felt it to be equal and right, Alvin was to have Moccasin and Jonathan the Green.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Jonathan prepared his teams and wagons, loaded his family and belongings, and started on his journey to Orderville. They had gone a short distance — five or six miles, when Alvin caught up with them on his horse. He and Jonathan walked a short distance from the wagons and talked for thirty or forty minutes.<span style=""> </span>Returning to the wagons, Jonathan instructed the boys to turn the teams around — they would be going back to Moccasin.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Daniel H. Heaton, son of Jonathan and Nay, gives the following account: <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""></i></p><blockquote><i style="">Uncle Alvin realized that on account of the size of their families, it would be more appropriate for father to own Moccasin and he the Green. So being such a noble, just man he asked father to exchange properties — which was a great sacrifice on his part.<br />Father had two good homes for his families in Orderville, so now it was necessary for him to move one family to Moccasin. Aunt Lucy’s family was taken to Moccasin and my mother, Amy, remained in Orderville.<span style=""> </span>In 1898, the two families exchanged places for awhile.</i><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /></blockquote> <!--[endif]-->In 1901, Jonathan moved his first wife, Amy, to what is now Alton, Utah. Lucy, his second wife and her children, were permanently established at Moccasin.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Taken from “Memories of Lucy H, Esplin”, Lucy is the daughter of Jonathan and Lucy: <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""></i></p><blockquote><i style="">When father and Alvin dissolved their partnership and divided the property, Alvin received Fiddler’s Green</i><i style=""> (the Green just below Orderville) and Father, Moccasin. Father and his Sons worked together and the two wives took turns moving from Moccasin to Orderville as their babies arrived with alternate regularity. Around the year 1900, father and his sons purchased the Segmiller ranch, which was in a canyon about thirty miles northeast of Kanab. It was called ‘Upper Kanab” at that time, although it later bacame known as the “Wild Rose Ranch” because of the wild roses that grew along fences, creek beds, and banks. Grandma Amy or Aunt Amy, as we called her, moved to the Wild Rose Ranch. Mother or Aunt Lucy, as everyone called her, stayed at Moccasin. The two homes in Orderville were sold.</i><br /></blockquote>In 1904, the second lumber house was built one half mile north of the “Big House” for Jonathan’s hired man, Ras Allen.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Eleven children were born to Jonathan and Lucy, six of whom were sons:<br />Charles, Fred, Christopher, Edward, Sterling, and Gilbert, Having the United Order of Orderville still bright in their minds, Jonathan and his sons formed a cooperation, using the title “Heaton and Sons”. They bought a herd of cattle from A.D, Findlay, with the headquarters at Pipe Springs.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The son’s families were increasing rapidly and Jonathan was soon to realize it would be better for each son to have his own home, farmland, and property. In 1911—12, the Moccasin Ranch was divided and fenced into six small farms.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The daughters, Lucy, Keziah, Ella, and Amy, married and moved to live elsewhere. The eldest daughter, Esther, remained at Moccasin and was given land and a home site by her father.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The water from the Sand Spring was piped to a community tank by the schoolhouse, and then to the homes starting 1909. This project made Moccasin “first” in the Kanab Stake to have running water in every home. It was also used for lawns, flowers, shrubbery and sprinklers. Small fruits such as currants, blackberries, gooseberries, raspberries, and strawberries grew well.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Moccasin was organized into a regular Church branch of the Kanab Ward, December 4, 1910, with Charles Heaton as Presiding Elder, until 1913 when he was called on a mission and his younger brother, Fred, was chosen to head the Branch. In 1926, the Branch was made independent with Fred Heaton presiding, Christopher and Charles Leonard Heaton as assistants, with Edward Heaton as clerk. The relief Society was organized in 1930 with Margaret C. Heaton as President, Lucy Heaton and Esther Johnson as counselors, and Laverna I. Heaton as Secretary.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->Family Thanksgiving dinners have been held each year since 1902. The first was held under the trees at the Big house and later at the school house. In 1946, a Church was built and the Thanksgiving dinners were held there.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->In 1902, a big bell was put up on the old granary and storage room that stood close to the Big House, The bell called the workman from the fields and the community members to Thanksgiving dinners, programs, school and Church.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The post office came in 1909 with Charles C, Heaton as postmaster. The office was located in his home. Mail service, for several years before, was carried from Kanab to Rockville, Utah by way of Moccasin, Canebeds, and Short Creek. Horseback was the mode of travel for the mail for a long time, then came the horse and buggy, the old jalopy, and finally the dependable truck.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The telephone service came in 1906 when the old telegraph line, which was completed in 1871 and ran from Kanab to Rockville, was hooked on to. The telephone was put in Lucy’s home and later moved to the Charles Heaton home. The old telegraph line, which ran from Kanab to Pipe Springs, was changed to a telephone line, by E.W. Wooley, in 1886.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->An automatic electric plant was installed in 1928, and Moccasin had electric lights. One street light was put up. This made Moccasin the first community in this part of Southern Utah and Northern Arizona to have a street light. Another larger plant was bought later and used for years. When it went out, the people were back in the ‘old days’ so to speak. The electric power line came in 1961.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->One fall day in 1940 when the fields and fruit trees were at their best — ready for harvest, a copper colored cloud appeared over the west canyon. This built up quickly and covered the skies. Soon lightning came and thunder could be heard, Then the storm broke — and such a storm! It was a real cloudburst with hail, loud cracking thunder, and lightning. It lasted for one half hour to an hour. What a relied when it stopped. The relief did not last long however, for from the canyon came a roaring flood, taking everything in its path — trees, animals, fields, fences — everything! When it was over, there were no fields or trees to be harvested. Instead a terrible wreckage — fields covered with sand, rocks and debris. Fences were gone, trees uprooted, outbuildings and sheds gone.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->The next year another storm came, but not so big. It was realized that something had to be done, so Charles Heaton hired a tractor and commenced digging a wash. Through the years, the wash grew deep and wide enough to carry the flood water. When the new highway was built into Moccasin, a big concrete tunnel was made to carry the water under the road. It was not large enough.<span style=""> </span>During the summer of 1971, a flood backed up and ran over the fields again, filling the basements of two new homes belonging to C. Leonard Heaton and his son, Leonard. Many hands soon had the basements cleaned and yards and fields cleared.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->A cemetery spot was chosen north and a little west of the hill where the Big House stood. All the families came to the dedication and to plant trees at the site, No one died, and as the years passed, the floods came and the sand grew deeper. This cemetery plot was finally abandoned; Death came to Moccasin, May 22, 1922 when Christopher’s wife, Elnora, died. She was burned in the Kanab Cemetery.<span style=""> </span>Others died and were buried in the cemeteries at Orderville and Kanab. It was again decided to have a cemetery at Moccasin.<span style=""> </span>A place north of the new chapel was chosen and dedicated in <b style=""><span style="color:red;">19??</span> <o:p></o:p></b><br /><br />At the turn of the century, Jonathan’s son, Will, and his young wife had planted a long row of poplar trees along the land running east and west. The trees grew tall and sturdy, furnishing a lot of shade — a lovely landmark for the weary traveler headed toward Moccasin, These trees grew for 70 years, then were removed in 1970 to make room for the new paved highway,<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->In the beginning, school was held in the homes, The first teachers were William Heaton, Persis B, Spencer, and Kezia Carroll Esplin, who all taught without pay. They held their classes in the “Big House”. The first paid teacher was Ella Flagg who came in 1905 and held classes in the Charles Heaton home. She was followed by Laverna Isom. <span style=""> </span>Laverna taught for four years,<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->A one—room school house was completed and occupied in 1907, Mohave County furnished funds for the cost of the materials and the Heaton men donated the labor, The lumber came from John Brown’s sawmill at Jacob Lake on the Kaibab Mountain.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->About 1947, the school house at the Kaibab Village burned down and the Indian children came to Moccasin to attend school. At this time, another room was added to the one—room school and an additional teacher hired.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]-->During the summer of 1973, a beautiful, modern little elementary school replaced the old school building, Kindergarten through third grade classes are held there, while children attending fourth through twelfth grades are bussed to Fredonia.<span style=""> </span><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-77610105638744624652008-02-06T16:02:00.001-08:002008-02-06T16:02:36.344-08:00Visits of the General Authorities<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">In the fall of the year, some of the presidents of the Church and apostles</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> would stop over night at Moccasin on their way to St. George from Kanab. How we would clean the house for their coming and all the yards outside. We would bring flowers in the house and have everything spic and span, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">even the children. We would make good things to eat - it was an exciting</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> time.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">President Joseph F. Smith had a long, white beard, was tall and nice looking.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> President Heber J. Grant held a meeting and sang for us. He said a person could do anything he made his mind up to do, if he persisted long enough. Apostle Richard R. Lyman had the biggest feet I ever saw and could eat the most watermelon. He was a large man. Apostle Francis M. Lyman blessed and named my brother, Gilbert Giles Heaton, the third of September 1900 at Moccasin in our dining room. Got him off to a good start in life.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.35in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">We always saved our largest and best melons for the visiting authorities coming in the fall of the year. One time our neighbor from Two Mile, Andrew Lamb, Uncle Ed Lamb's brother, came to Moccasin and on his way out he passed the melon patch. It was a great temptation to see those big </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">melons. So our biggest melons went along home with Andrew and the Apostles</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> had second best. However, he was kind enough to save the seed and send to us for planting the coming spring.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Lucy Heaton Esplin</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-64907960663137186762008-02-06T16:00:00.002-08:002009-01-21T19:31:48.178-08:00Trapping Quail at Moccasin<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.1in; text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xllEgkBi9R5H5CaBn0EpcD6UGp1dEmo934dHSId4H3PCC9Craj1yscyIXEY_cDnj08HUDfPtQ9V9fMXSYd7CTUDiK3DY5Z6-pozROatoR_56DjIo0jXgQtK27MgbnbZIAt13u9fLaas/s1600-h/figure+4+trap.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xllEgkBi9R5H5CaBn0EpcD6UGp1dEmo934dHSId4H3PCC9Craj1yscyIXEY_cDnj08HUDfPtQ9V9fMXSYd7CTUDiK3DY5Z6-pozROatoR_56DjIo0jXgQtK27MgbnbZIAt13u9fLaas/s320/figure+4+trap.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293955561321205106" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >As a boy I used to go with my cousins trapping quail. The </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >quail traps were</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >made of a light board box held up by a figure four trigger. When the quail</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >would go under the trap to eat the wheat, they would touch the trigger and</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > the box would fall trapping all the quail that were eating the grain.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >The quail were placed in a chicken run and fed until they were eaten by ranch members. They were so plentiful that they attracted a lot of coyote and fox. If we did not check the quail traps every day, the wild animals </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >would dig a hole under the box and eat the quail as they tried to crawl out</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > from under the box.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >Eating the quail made me believe the quail story recorded in the Bible,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >wherein the quail were so thick the children of Israel could catch them</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >with their hands. It also increased my faith in prayer where the Saints</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > crossing the plains prayed for food and the Lord sent the quail in abundance.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >- Alma Heaton</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-40126432799159663102008-02-06T16:00:00.001-08:002008-02-06T16:00:31.314-08:00Those Moccasin Days<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">When I think of Moccasin, I think of Grandma Heaton. She was a strong force in the life of every one of her children and grandchildren; I have </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">fond memories of Grandma Heaton. She presided over her large family clan</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> with a quiet, firm hand. She never missed much that went on around her. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">She kept everything running in an orderly manner, and expected an evening</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> visit from each son, every day, even if he was married with a family of his own. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Grandma had a large library of books that filled all one wall </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">by her fireplace in the living-dining room. She always tried to see that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> we children read the proper books for our age level. She was interested in the welfare of each grandchild. She taught the kindergarten group of children in Sunday school for many years and excelled in telling Bible stories. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Grandma loved beautiful dishes. She made fancy quilts and gave </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">each granddaughter lace for pillowcases when they were married, while she</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> was alive. All of her pillowcases were edged with lovely knitted lace. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Her bay window was always a mass of beautiful plants. She truly had a green thumb. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">I remember sleeping up to Grandma's when she was alone. I </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">always slept on huge down pillows and a feather mattre</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">ss</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> out on the side</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> porch. Generally, I stayed for breakfast. Grandma and I sat at one end of the long dining table and a large yellow cat lapped cream from a saucer at the other end. Grandma's breakfasts were very satisfying, usually hot cereal with real cream, hot biscuits, butter and honey and jelly.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">I have always been thankful that Grandma Heaton was part of my "growing up". Grandpa Heaton was a church and civic leader, and with two families to manage he didn't have much time for grandchildren, He would often sit with his face buried in a paper or book during the evenings, seemingly </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">oblivious to family, friends or visitors. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">I do remember a little incident</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> involving Grandpa Heaton. He bought one of the first (if not the first} touring cars that came into southern Utah. When he drove into Moccasin </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">in this car, it was a real event. He took everyone on the ranch for short</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> rides. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">When some of us were chugging up the sandy lane one day, we saw a coyote skulking along the ditch, at the side of the road. It would hide behind the tall Lombardy poplars which grew the full length of the lane, The men folks located the coyote and shot it. They thought it had rabies, because it was so skinny and had very little hair on its body.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--></span></i><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Edna H. Stapley</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-23563943061572821242008-02-06T15:59:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:59:43.719-08:00The Year of the Big Flood<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.1in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The year of 1940 is one I'll never forget, as I am sure many others won't</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> either. This was the year we had the big flood. It was September and </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">we had been in school but a week or two when one day we really had a cloud</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">burst. It was so dark in the schoolroom, even though there were four </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">windows on each side of the one room school building, we could hardly see</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to do our lessons.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">I don't remember who noticed the flood first, coming out of the west canyon, but it was a big one. We could see boulders as large as cars rolling down. We saw the big cottonwood trees rooted up and come rolling down with the water. We were scared. The schoolhouse was upon the hill, but we thought for sure the flood would come up and wash us away too. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Not only was a flood coming out of the canyon, but a large flood came down</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">off the Flat Rocks, down through the meadow and gardens west and north of</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the school house.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">My sister Jennie and her family lived in a small, one roomed house with<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 1.8pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">a lean-to for a bed room. It was right in the way of the flood. As the </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">flood came down, the men ran down to Jennie's house to help them get out.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">After they were out and up to our house, Mama came to school to get me to</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> go home and take care of Jennie's Stan and Rolin. The flood was still </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">getting larger, so I took the boys and went up to Uncle Sterlings because</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">his house was on the same hill as the schoolhouse. The folks thought the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> flood would come as high as our house, but it didn't, thank goodness. Everyone was saying prayers that day.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The flood completely covered Daddy's land. It filled the barn, covered</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the alfalfa fields, the apple orchard, on down through another alfalfa patch and the corn fields, across the road and on to some of Uncle Gilberts,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Uncle Sterlings, and Uncle Chris' fields, going on to the Two Mile Wash and on to the Colorado River.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 19.8pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The next day, a group of men from Kanab and Fredonia went to Moccasin</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">to help dig out from the flood. It had left two or three feet of sand</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">everywhere. While the men were there, it clouded up and rained again.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Another large flood, not quite as large as the first, came. The third day another one came, smaller than the second. After the third day of </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">flooding, Parv Church said if he were Charlie Heaton, he would curse the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Lord and move out, but Daddy went straight to work to clean it all up and start planting again. The apples got ripe faster that year and start</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">ed to fall off, so we were all busy picking and taking care of apples that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> year.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">The first day of the flood, Daddy lost a pig or two and a few chickens in</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the water, but no other animals. He had opened the corral gate and let the horses and cows go to higher ground,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">There have been a number of floods since that day in 1940, and I suppose</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> there will be more to come, but we always refer to it now as the time we had the big flood. The next year, Daddy hitched up the old workhorse, old Nig, to a plow </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">and started plowing a ditch along the south of our land at the foot of the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> hill. He would then run water down it to wash it out more, then dig and blast the rock to make it deeper. When the next flood came, which was much smaller, the wash held most of it and also cut the wash deeper. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">From then on the wash held the floods that came down, except for one fall</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">when trash came down, plugged up the bridge and ran over flooding Leonard's</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and Pinkie's houses, filling their basements with sand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The one thing the floods accomplished was to wash up springs of water</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> in the flood wash, so I guess there was some good came from it all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Lavina Heaton Meeks</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-10992723434194296342008-02-06T15:57:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:58:24.929-08:00The Wrong Turn<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">When Jonathan Heaton and Sons were building a home for their hired help,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Rass Allen and family, in 1905 or 1906 (the home Aunt May now owns), they</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> had Mr. George Burnham, from Orderville, out to do the plastering. He </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">was staying at Grandma's house and one evening wanted to go up to see how</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the plaster was drying as, to get a good finish on the wall, the plaster</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> had to dry out gradually and needed to be wet down several times to prevent cracking.<o:p></o:p><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Being a dark night, Mr. Burnham borrowed a lamp to light his way along </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the path, through the grape arbor, past the tunnel spring, along the bank</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> of the long reservoir, and then up past the new fruit orchard to the house. Mr. Burnham had asked some of the men to go along with him in case they were needed - and need them he did. He was in the lead and not watching too closely where he was going. He made a turn in the path too soon and walked right off into the reservoir, which was full of water. The men </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">fished him out but had to wait until the reservoir was emptied to get the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> lamp back.<o:p></o:p></span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: right;"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">C. Leonard Heaton</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-74781057262951910432008-02-06T15:56:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:56:47.311-08:00The Winter of the Blue Snow<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The evening of December 25, 1936, a group of we boys climbed in Uncle Fred's</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Dodge sedan and went to Kanab to a dance. It started to snow, and by the time we were ready to come home after the dance, it had snowed and drifted so much that we got stuck in Riggs Flat and had a rather difficult time getting home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 19.8pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">It kept snowing and blowing and turned so awfully cold. The fog was so </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">thick you could hardly breathe. When the snow finally stopped, there was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> three feet on the level. The CCC Camp at Pipe Springs tried to keep the </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">road open from there to Fredonia with a cat-tractor, and the men at Moccasin</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> built a drag. They hooked two or three teams to this and tried to open the road to Pipe. They didn't have much success because of the wind and drifting snow. The fences had so much frost hanging to the wire that it looked like a solid wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.3in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The men became very worried about the cattle on the range, so one day they</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">saddled their horses and attempted to go to Cedar Ridge and the Moonshine </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Pasture. Each would take a turn in the lead to break a trail through the </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">snow - the snow being so deep as to strike the horses at the chest with our</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> feet dragging in the snow. Uncle Ed was in the lead riding his big, stout horse named Happy. We were about a mile out from Pipe when, all at once, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">his horse dropped out of sight. We had come to a deep wash that had drifted</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> full of snow. We spent a considerable amount of time tromping through into the wash in order to get solid footing for the horse to climb up the steep bank of the wash and out on the level ground again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Pipe Valley looked like a sea of white. The bushes were covered with snow</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">and the washes had all drifted full. It was so cold that the scarves we had</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">over our faces froze to our skin and the horses had icicles three or four</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">inches long on their noses where their breath would freeze. The cattle had</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> tried to find shelter under trees, in the larger wash banks, in rock out</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">croppings, or anywhere they could find some relief from the cold wind and</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> deep snow.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Whenever we would ride into one of these bed grounds, there would be dead</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> cattle and some too weak to stand. Some we were able to tail up (help </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">them to stand), and then try to make a trail to a bush or some tumbleweed</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">that hadn't been eaten into the ground. Some of the cattle we were able</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">to drive to the red hill west of Pipe where there was some fresh browse</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and the snow didn't lay quite so deep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.3in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Along toward the last of February or the first of March, the sun finally began to shine. The weather became warmer and the snow began to melt. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">After the snow had melted on the level ground, there was still some on the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> north slopes of the hills and the washes were still full, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Fred, Carl, and I packed up a horse and spent a few days riding the range</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">to assess the loss, etc. We found the cattle so weak that they would get</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">stuck in the mud or were unable to climb up a wash bank after trying to</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> get a drink in the washes where the snow was melting.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">We rode up the Bullrush Wash area and around the Moonshine and Yellowstone</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Rim, finding many dead cattle. Some had frozen feet or tails and some of their ears were frozen off. We helped many cattle out of washes or mud-holes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">To this day, cattlemen and sheep men recall the experiences of that tragic</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">"winter of the blue snow". There has not been another winter, before or</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> since, to compare with this one.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Owen H. Johnson</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-48416502149920483482008-02-06T15:55:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:55:51.432-08:00The Rescue<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.2in 4.5pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">The year Israel C. was a year old he liked riding in the express wagon. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Erma had to go to Grandma Lucy's for milk and asked if she could take him</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">with her in the wagon. I bundled him up, for it was quite a cold morning.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> When they reached the Long Reservoir, Erma was afraid she might run off </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the narrow path that ran along the west bank. She hugged the hill so close</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> that it cramped the wagon and tipped it over. Down went the baby into </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the reservoir and Erma went right after him, clinging to some bushes with</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> one hand and grabbing the baby with the other. She couldn't climb out; the bank was too steep and the baby too heavy. She called and cried for help.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 19.8pt 0.15in 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Grandma Lucy was on the hill following a hen that had stolen her nest away. She thought she heard someone calling so she walked in that direction. As soon as she reached the top of the hill, she realized the call </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">was for help and hurried to the rescue. She had quite a struggle to reach</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">them. They were chilled through and through and Erma was nearly exhausted.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> A good warm bath followed and they were none the worse for a February plunge and a near drowning.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 23.4pt 0in 0.0001pt 2.45in; text-align: right;" align="right"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Violet H. Jones<o:p></o:p></span></i><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">(Taken from Charlotte C. Heaton's story)</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-3407608568386335892008-02-06T15:51:00.000-08:002009-01-21T19:33:36.750-08:00The Rescue of a Lost Sheep<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyrKXtD-XYWFX_L6APuhyphenhyphenX7_m7tJAqzmbpEPA6xwES-eYYKAADN8pLm9aTT8ztUvDJAFY-5IgZMd9CixNeRhUG6jqAoTKyz2iDqBbpKWiBkdZtpHc-CO1N_1ET61E8WwmU3BqFk7ltRM/s1600-h/big_sheep.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyrKXtD-XYWFX_L6APuhyphenhyphenX7_m7tJAqzmbpEPA6xwES-eYYKAADN8pLm9aTT8ztUvDJAFY-5IgZMd9CixNeRhUG6jqAoTKyz2iDqBbpKWiBkdZtpHc-CO1N_1ET61E8WwmU3BqFk7ltRM/s200/big_sheep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293953807888887794" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >One day, soon after Leonard P. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >Heaton </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >had returned from his mission in 1956, he and I went hunting deer in the mountains west of Pipe Spring National Monument. We were on a bench east of Potter's Canyon. While </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >riding along, we suddenly saw sheep tracks. How could a sheep possibly</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > get upon this bench? They were fresh tracks and very unusual ones. Every time they came into view the sheep appeared to be dragging something. Suddenly we ran on to her. She was lying down and did not try </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >to get up. We thought at first that she was dead. As we drew nearer she</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > tried to get up. It was then that we saw that the huge amount of heavy </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >wool that she was carrying was keeping her from moving around. She could</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > not run and could hardly walk. Why had she lived here so long without the coyotes eating her? Upon closer observation, we could see that the coyotes could not possibly have gotten through all of that wool. The only bare place was her nose and around her eyes.<o:p></o:p><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 23.4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >She had undoubtedly strayed away from a herd while yet very young, perhaps during her first year, and had climbed up onto this bench then. She had no doubt found various water pockets in the rocks or natural </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >springs that had kept her alive. The abundant food supply there had also</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > been all hers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 19.8pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >We drove her very carefully down to my waiting pickup and loaded her in.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > Her wool was so heavy that all the way down she would walk a few steps </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >then stop and rest. We kept picking her up on her feet and moving slowly</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > on. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >A sheep will shed it's own wool in four years, but we figured by her teeth,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > that she was only three years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.2in; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >I took her home and cared for her a few days, we took some pictures then</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > sheared and weighed the wool. As I recall, the wool weighed 42 pounds. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >I also measured the wool. That around her face and head was 6 to 10 inches</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > long. But that on her back and sides was 12 to 14 inches long. She had undoubtedly lived on that lonely haven for more than 2 years.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >As Leonard was soon to be married, the wool was sent to woolen mills where</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" > nice new all wool blankets were made.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.2in 0in 0.0001pt 2.45in; text-align: right;" align="right"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >- Annie M. Heaton<o:p></o:p></span></i><i style=""><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" >(as told to her by Clifford K, Heaton)</span></i></p><i style=""><span style=";font-family:";font-size:9;" ></span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-18927971657253783622008-02-06T15:50:00.003-08:002008-02-06T15:50:57.721-08:00The Party<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">At one time, Alvin decided to give the Indians a party. All the people </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">from Pipe Springs and Moccasin were invited to join in the melon feast with</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the Indians. When Captain Frank (Indian) was notified, he was very much pleased. He selected an almost perfect amphitheater among the trees, near </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the camp, and placed logs on the outer edge for the white people to sit on.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> They came - a hay rack load of people and a wagon load of melons. The white people mingled together in a friendly manner, in conversation, dance, and feast. The most impressive feature of the evening occurred when Captain Frank stepped into the center of a large circle and gave thanks for the happy occasion. With bowed head he asked God's blessings on those assembled, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">on himself, and his people. He prayed for the Mormon President, John Taylor,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">(who was then dead), for Joseph Smith, and George Washington, and for Alvin</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Heaton, who had brought the melons.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Whenever Captain Frank was given a meal at the "Big House", he always asked </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the Lord to bless the food and bless Frank. "Help Frank to be a good man",</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and then would add, "Frank no steal 'em, Frank no lie."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Charles Carroll Heaton</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-2770717949192295212008-02-06T15:50:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:50:54.736-08:00The Party<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">At one time, Alvin decided to give the Indians a party. All the people </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">from Pipe Springs and Moccasin were invited to join in the melon feast with</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the Indians. When Captain Frank (Indian) was notified, he was very much pleased. He selected an almost perfect amphitheater among the trees, near </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the camp, and placed logs on the outer edge for the white people to sit on.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> They came - a hay rack load of people and a wagon load of melons. The white people mingled together in a friendly manner, in conversation, dance, and feast. The most impressive feature of the evening occurred when Captain Frank stepped into the center of a large circle and gave thanks for the happy occasion. With bowed head he asked God's blessings on those assembled, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">on himself, and his people. He prayed for the Mormon President, John Taylor,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">(who was then dead), for Joseph Smith, and George Washington, and for Alvin</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Heaton, who had brought the melons.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Whenever Captain Frank was given a meal at the "Big House", he always asked </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the Lord to bless the food and bless Frank. "Help Frank to be a good man",</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and then would add, "Frank no steal 'em, Frank no lie."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Charles Carroll Heaton</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-57034012769801690702008-02-06T15:48:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:49:18.236-08:00The Lobo Wolf<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >On the heavy forested slopes of the Kaibab Forest in Northern Arizona, </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >in the spring of 1910, was born a wolf that was later to become famous for</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >his ruthless destruction of livestock and his habit of traveling and kill</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >ing alone. So notorious did the exploits of this beast become, that the conservative cattlemen of the Arizona Strip offered a reward of $500 for his capture, dead or alive. It was in this forest that the wolf took a mate and the two came off the west side of the mountain, no doubt intend</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >ing to prey on the cattle ranging west of the Kaibab Plateau in the desert</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > around Fredonia. Soon after leaving the forest, the she wolf had the misfortune to step into the jaws of a trap. Her mate was left to travel and kill alone.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >From this time on, which was after the wolf had reached the age of one </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >year, he was never seen in the company of another wolf, nor did his tracks</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > ever reveal that he had a mate or a partner in his depredations. From </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >his habit of traveling alone, he came to be known as the Lobo Wolf, under</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > which title he was known throughout the Arizona Strip. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The Lobo Wolf chose for his range, that part of the Strip, which is bounded</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > on the east by Fredonia, on the west by the Hurricane Fault, north by </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Orderville Creek, and south by the Bull Rush Wash. The approximate center</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >of this region is Pipe Springs where Leonard Heaton was its caretaker and</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > was the only man ever to see the Lobo Wolf more than once.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Leonard and his father, Charles Heaton, first saw the wolf near Shiprock,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > approximately five miles west of Fredonia. The wolf had just killed a calf when he was surprised by the approach of the two on horseback, Charles decided to rope the wolf and take him alive, inasmuch as they had no guns with them. He uncoiled his rope and gave chase. His horse could </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >outdistance the wolf but would refuse to draw near, shying at the crucial</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > moment. This occurred in the spring of 1911, shortly after he began kill</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >ing among the cattle herds. Leonard saw him again in the fall of 1913 near</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > Moccasin but could not get a shot at him before he disappeared over the Sand Knolls. Two Orderville men, Earl Lamb and Fern Esplin, came upon him suddenly and shot at him with a 22 caliber automatic pistol but with-out effect,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >In the winter of 1914 O. F. Colvin and his family occupied the old fort</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > at Pipe Springs. Many times in the middle of the night the members of the family were startled into wakefulness by the howling of the wolf. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Early morning investigations proved that the Lobo had indeed chosen the</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > fort as a place for his serenade. Although the wolf seemed to make the </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >vicinity of Pipe Springs his headquarters that winter, and although his</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >howl was heard on many a night, the Colvin family was never able to get</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > a sight of him,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >As his age increased, his desire to kill seemed to increase in even great</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >er proportion. He reached the stage where he no longer killed only to satisfy his hunger, but he seemed to kill for the joy of doing it. Many calves and cows who had fallen victim to his fangs were found to have </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >only a few marks of the teeth and claws of the killer on them. These</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span style=";font-family:";" >were </span></i></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >usually found in the region of the udder or some other part which the </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Lobo Wolf determined as choice meat. No longer did he confine his attacks to calves and young cattle. He now had the courage and the strength to attack</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > a thousand pound cow, and many an animal of this size was found to have been slain by him. No record of his ever having killed a horse is recorded but colts were to be numbered among his victims.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >His habits were those of an animal who dreads the presence of man and fears</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > to be sighted by him and yet who has a native curiosity as to the nature of his natural enemy. Many times the tracks of the wolf were freshly printed in the tracks of men and riders preceding him. After a camping party had moved and left the ashes of their campfires, he delighted in rolling over and over in the dust of the ashes. He seemed to remain on the fringe of mans vision, curious, but cautious to such an extent that he was very rarely seen.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >George T. Gilkey, a noted trapper, who had heard of the exploits of the Lobo Wolf and also the reward for his capture, came to Moccasin in 1921 with the determination to trap the wolf and take him alive. He openly boasted that the animal did not live which was smart enough to avoid his traps. Accordingly he set about to catch the wolf with a skill which con</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >vinced even the most skeptical that he really understood trapping. Gilkey</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > found the favorite haunts and trails of the wolf and set many traps with the hope that one of them would be sprung on the killer. For many months it seemed as if the trapper had met his match. The wolf either avoided the traps entirely or he contrived ways to spring them without injury to himself. Trap after trap was visited only to be found rusting and buried in sand, or there was evidence of a detour by the intended victim. From outward appearances Gilkey was discouraged and ready to quit.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >One of the favorite trails of the wolf crossed under an old pole fence northwest of Moccasin. Under this fence Gilkey had set three traps. In one of these he had, much to his disgust, caught a small rabbit, in an-other a small bird had flown with similar effect on the trapper's dis</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >position. The other was left to rust while the trail of the wolf now led</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > to a point further down the fence.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >It was the yearly custom of some of the Indians living near Moccasin to go to Panguitch, Utah during the haying season where they were hired by the farmers of that vicinity. Some of them traveled by horse and buggy, </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >but the majority of them walked and hunted for rabbits and other small game</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >enroute. John Merricats, a Paiute Indian, was one of those who had chosen</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > to walk.<span style=""> </span>He was approaching the old pole fence where the unsuccessful trapping had taken place when he saw the head of an enormous wolf, through the pole fence, The wolf was apparently laying down, but John was not one to hes</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >itate and taking careful aim he fired and the wolf rolled over, the victim</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > of a well placed shot in the head, To his surprise and also to his fear, he not only saw that the animal was the long sought Lobo Wolf but also that he was fast in the old rusty trap which had been placed and practically forgotten by Gilkey. The Indian quickly and skillfully skinned the wolf and hung the hide in the tree. He then departed in a hasty manner. The next day, an extremely hot one in August, 1922, Gilkey approached and saw only the skinned wolf still held fast in his trap. His anger was beyond his control and he raced his horse the entire ten miles to Moccasin where he obtained the service of the Deputy Sheriff. When they returned to the spot and were taking note of the tracks of the accused thief, they </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >chanced to notice the hide hanging in the tree and Gilkey's anger was cooled</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > somewhat. His disappointment was still very great however, as it had been his cherished dream to take the Lobo Wolf alive. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The wolf was a giant of his species, He measured 6 feet 11 inches from</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > tip to tip and weighed 96 pounds. He was of a light gray color. His </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >tusks showed the results of a strenuous life. Many of them were broken</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > off, some even to the gum line. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The reward of $500 dollars was never paid, but a few of the cattlemen got together</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > a total of $100, which in addition to the hide, was the amount Gilkey received for a year of effort.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-51062489723387791262008-02-06T15:46:00.000-08:002009-01-21T20:30:01.569-08:00Picking the Geese<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaBBcTbAVR_2j15o-psIMxlxvEBuxj1gcmMTNEzwp_1vCg68rJ8vFlbPCH_D8ClfUfvGB-0DupX3x4S33YCxjfWPSUQjrZXjZp9m37m-twgxrW9sax7rK1J4duvc6ALAVLdQFkIHDtiQ/s1600-h/geese.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaBBcTbAVR_2j15o-psIMxlxvEBuxj1gcmMTNEzwp_1vCg68rJ8vFlbPCH_D8ClfUfvGB-0DupX3x4S33YCxjfWPSUQjrZXjZp9m37m-twgxrW9sax7rK1J4duvc6ALAVLdQFkIHDtiQ/s320/geese.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293968296989824114" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >Picki</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >ng ge</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >ese</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >was an interesting job </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >we did. We would run the geese into</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > a small pen.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" ><span style=""> </span>Then the mothers</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > and big sisters would come with rawhide </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >chairs (that is, where </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >one sit was made of rawhide, the rest was </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >made of</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >tree locust). Each would have </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >a feather sack and a safety pin to pin the sack on </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >their apron after they sat down. A goose wa</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >s caught </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">for each picker.</span> </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPYHXrq9niPTC5S1CMuW1ORN0tLnrVvAmyiMG1NnothHtbTyxMfpIsmKqS0OrK9Pqd2a9EncgfFVPfOwp2-UmMPFsebFSWF2ju-iUzfxDaCrGa_BVleXVb9LoCVfT9NSySBio7fhtvtY/s1600-h/lady+picking+down.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPYHXrq9niPTC5S1CMuW1ORN0tLnrVvAmyiMG1NnothHtbTyxMfpIsmKqS0OrK9Pqd2a9EncgfFVPfOwp2-UmMPFsebFSWF2ju-iUzfxDaCrGa_BVleXVb9LoCVfT9NSySBio7fhtvtY/s320/lady+picking+down.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293968300816841586" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >They would get </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >hold of the goose's legs and wings, turn</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >them on </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >their back and </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >start picking with the free hand. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >There was quite</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >a knack to the way you pulled on the feathers. </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >Starting down by the tail</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > of the </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >goose, you would give a quick pull toward </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >the head. The </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >feathers came out real easy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3ycXsnpj2hAncUt-hwbO0wDsybsIJBQfUkzdi1PSLsTnQX-1Ox_hQTRB7U3w99_U8qdT7hOgWeb5HkUWZAcgrTgwzUdG9qHKlcmFerAwu3U_kniTOFxzlqQ-zBhUBmPIValcAJuGVp4/s1600-h/feathers+and+down.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg3ycXsnpj2hAncUt-hwbO0wDsybsIJBQfUkzdi1PSLsTnQX-1Ox_hQTRB7U3w99_U8qdT7hOgWeb5HkUWZAcgrTgwzUdG9qHKlcmFerAwu3U_kniTOFxzlqQ-zBhUBmPIValcAJuGVp4/s320/feathers+and+down.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293968299562651730" border="0" /></a></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >Sometimes a wing </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >got loose or </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >a </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >child knocked against the sack of feathers.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > The feathers </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >would fly ever which way, If a breeze was blowing, it was fun chasing the feathers and trying to catch </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >them. We tried to pick the geese when the wind was not blowing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >The feathers are nice for pillows. Mother had a feather bed and I think </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" >mother's boys and girls received a pair of goose feather pillows when they</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:180%;" > were married.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><span style=";font-family:";" >- Lucy Heaton Esplin</span></i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-20673557008632721072008-02-06T15:45:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:46:24.759-08:00Peach Bottling Time at Moccasin<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">From my earliest recollections, a visit at Moccasin was the delight of my</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">life. After a day's ride in a horse drawn wagon, and often some walking,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">over the Sand Dunes, past Chris' Spring and Blue Knolls, we would eagerly</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">watch to catch sight of the double row of huge, age old poplar trees that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> formed a shady lane leading to Aunt Lucy's and Uncle Jonathan's house. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The family at Moccasin was dear to me and the house at Moccasin was as dear</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> as my own home. If the extra company crowded the rooms, no one seemed to mind it. At least I didn't feel it if they did. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">We always arrived in the evening and were soon hustled off to bed. The clean</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> restful beds in the upstairs, south bedroom were so inviting. It was pleasing to me to be in the room with Esther, Zidie, Lucy, and Ella. Yes, two </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">big beds held all of us. At times there were three in each bed. Work filled</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> days were conductive to sleep. Especially in this desert edged, mountain protected, lovely ranch.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Usually, my family was at Moccasin in the fall of the year when this mild climate and rich loamy soil had produced bumper crops of vegetables and fruits. Fruit canning, or bottling days, were approached with regimental </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">preparation. Usually, the men folks picked the peaches, but often the girls</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> helped. The just right peaches and grapes were hauled in from the orchards buckets and tubs overflowing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The day before bottling was the "get ready day". What seemed to me the most</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> important task, and in my young eyes the hardest, was the washing of the bottles.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">In the big kitchen early the next morning, breakfast work already done, tubs</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> of luscious peaches were being washed. My mother and Aunt Lucy were seated </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">with pans of peaches and paring knives - each peeling as fast as industrious</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> women, who are used to this kind of work, and are capable of. What a difference in these two wonderful sisters. Aunt Lucy, large of form, and larger still of heart and wisdom, serene and measured in movement, making every turn of the hand and knife count. My mother, Aunt Vine, small tireless and quick in movement, They could peel peaches fast enough to keep two girls, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">usually Esther and Zidie, putting the cooked peaches in bottles and sealing</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> them. Lucy kept busy just refilling the big cooking pans on the stove and keeping the fire box stuffed and roaring with heat.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">At 11 a.m., part of the stove and one grown girl was released from the fruit</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> process to cook a hot meal for the workingmen and the dozen or so of us who were always hungry in spite of the fruit nibbling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">Promptly at 12 noon, one of us kids was sent across the back door yard and</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">up the grainery steps to swing up and down on the sturdy rope that put the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">dinner bell to clapping. How I loved to ring that bell, or how eagerly we</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> waited to hear it if we were away to the gardens, reservoirs, or fields.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">It meant that when we arrived at the house, if we hurried, there would be </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">a delicious home cooked dinner, steaming hot on the big dining table, which</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> sat parallel to the bay window thru which the sun shone all day on Aunt Lucy's potted flowers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Dinner was always seasoned with a certain amount of family comradery and </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">laughter, but no loafing after. The dishes were cleared away, washed, dried,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and put into the old fashioned cupboard, floors swept up and the deck was cleared for more fruit doing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">When night came, there were two hundred quarts of bottled peaches, gleaming </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">yellow and washed of all stickiness, cooling, ready to be boxed and hauled</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> away. Fruit for the Moccasin family was stored.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.2in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">After a long, hot day, I tagged along with the other girls to the round </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">reservoir for the cooling, cleansing, and much-earned swim. Everyone could</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> swim except for me. I paddled in the shallow edge.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 16.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Day followed day of doing peaches, grapes, tomatoes, until there was a sur</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">plus of food for the year. It was all put to good use, too, for travelers</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">found Moccasin a convenient stopping place, and were always given the hos</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">pitality of good food and a bed to sleep in, plus care for their tired horses.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Esther Heaton Lamb</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-76419215757090641722008-02-06T15:44:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:45:11.884-08:00My own Memories of Moccasin<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 9pt -2.4pt 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">Moccasin was a place of enchantment in my imagination when I was a little</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> girl. I longed to go there, and finally I did, when I was thirteen years old. I traveled there in a wagon and we went past Clay hills and Yellow Jacket. Zidie Esplin, and Thomas Esplin and others were making the trip from Orderville out across the sand in Bishop Esplin's outfit. It was in September 1916 probably. Moccasin meant peaches, watermelons, and Indians, according to reports that came to my young ears. The only Indians I had ever seen were from Moccasin. Two squaws came to our house once, just before Christmas, with flour sacks, saying "Christmas gift." They wanted flour, apples, or other food. I remember seeing Mabel sitting silently</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> for a long time in Aunt Vine's house in Orderville.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">Later I heard the story of how a large group formed an assembly line in</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Aunt Lucy's house when it was time to put ripe peaches into two </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">quart glass bottles for the winter supply for everyone in Moccasin, Alton</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">and other places. Of course this job had been preceded by picking peaches</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">off the trees, peeling them, and also by getting the great number of empty</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">bottles ready, some of which were already clean but still had to be boiled,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">and other bottles which were sent to them dirty and had to be soaked first.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">It was said that on one particular day Zidie did nothing all day long but</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">screw lids on the bottles filled with boiling hot peaches and their juice,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Zidie's son is still (1976) known to me as "Zidie's William."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">And so, I finally spent a week at Moccasin and stayed with my second cousin</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Amy, the youngest child of Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Lucy and the same age </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">as myself. I was the oldest in our family of five girls. Amy had a lovely</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and varied collection of dolls and one of them had the incredibly long name of Annie-Maria-Jane-Norene-Esther!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">One night we slept in a double bed around in the corner part of the long </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">porch which ran across the east of the house and part way along the north</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> side. After we went to bed Amy discovered that a bat was flying around inside this screened porch, She arose and felt around on the wall and </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">took down from its place on the nail, a man's hat, and put it on her head,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Then she managed to find matches and light a coal oil lamp, She put an</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">other hat on my head and gave me the lamp to hold, and told me to hold open</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the screen door when she got the bat over there after chasing it around with a broom.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">On another night we undressed and were ready to go to bed in an upstairs</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> room when Amy suggested we do something she had evidently done before. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">We sneaked out of the house in our long white night gowns and went across</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the sandy lane to the horse water trough. We took off our gowns and care-fully slid into the cold water which came up to our necks and then some; naked, but of course it was dark.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">We went swimming every afternoon, in the reservoir. First getting plenty</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> of exercise in the water and then going to lie on the hot sand in the old dresses we wore, until we were scalded good, then we'd go back to the water to cool off. There was another long narrow pond to the north of the house, but it was in the shade of the trees and the water was almost </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">completely covered with floating leaves. Nearby was the narrow "cool cellar"</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> where there was a long plank to stand on to keep people's feet out of the running water, and there were long shelves on each side which were filled with pans of milk, and cream, as well as churned butter and other perishables. Near this pond was a high rope swing, which I occasionally used.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Some of the other things I remember were: Aunt Lucy had on a kitchen shelf</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> a fruit jar which was filled with white pieces of sterilized cloth for instant readiness in case of cut fingers and other injuries. The long </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">table in the dining room was surrounded by many people when they sat down</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to eat three times a day. The table was so impressive that I included it </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">in a purely fictional story I wrote in High School, about watermelons,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Indian kids, and Aunt Lucy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">The old large barn to the west of the house had a long lean-to, with a gently sloping roof. Amy, Jennie, and I climbed up on this lean-to. I </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">distinctly remember that the boards of the roof were weather beaten and</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">bleached almost white from the many years in the hot sun. Moccasin was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> a sunny place, and a happy place, to us kids.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Annie Porter Seaman</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-44576712327940433322008-02-06T15:43:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:43:46.654-08:00My Other Mother<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.15in 0.2in 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Will, the oldest son, has often been herd to give this tribute of his "other mother". "I have lived in Aunt Lucy's home for months at a time, </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">year after year, and can truthfully say she has treated me as her own son. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">She was as good to me as she was to her own children, and as good to me</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> as my own mother."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0.3in 0.0001pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">He often told this incident to illustrate her unselfishness in dealing</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> with her husband’s other children. One afternoon when she was mending </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">shirts, she found she was short of patches that matched, so some of them</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> had to be mended with different colors. When she had finished them and h</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">eld them up for inspection, she found that she had put the matching patches</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> on her own son’s shirt. "Without hesitation", Will related, "she ripped off the patches and reversed them, putting the matching patches on my shirt and the odd ones on her own sons".<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Amy Carroll Stark as told by Will Heaton</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-72381975312373678962008-02-06T15:38:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:39:03.034-08:00Muleback from Moccasin to Kanab and Back<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">When I was three years old, my father Israel H. Heaton went to Australia</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> on a mission for the L.D.S. Church. We were living in Alton, Utah when </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">he received his mission call. My Grandfather Jonathan Heaton thought that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> my mother should take her children to Moccasin, Arizona to live while my father was away. Also, all the family thought it would be better if my </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">mother were closer to her sister Maggie. My mother's sister Margaret (we</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> all called her Aunt Maggie) was just younger than my mother. She had </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">married my father's brother Charles C. Heaton at the same time my mother</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> and father were married in the St, George Temple, Uncle Charl was just about two years younger than my father.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> After Father came home from his mission, we stayed at Moccasin, I started</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> school there and we lived there until I was nine years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Father had not been home from his mission very long until he was appointed</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> second councilor in the Kanab Stake Presidency. This meant that he would have to travel to Kanab for all his meetings. It was twenty miles from Moccasin to Kanab. Back then the only means of transportation was by horseback, by team and buggy or team and wagon. It took better than two hours to make the trip one way. After awhile the Church authorities </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">decided it would be better if Father took his family to Kanab to live so,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">that he would not have to travel so far</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">on </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Sunday for his church meetings.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">By the time Father was able to get his business taken care of so we could</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> move, I was nine years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> When we moved, there were not enough children at Moccasin to qualify it</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">for a state teacher. One more student was needed so that the State would</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> pay the schoolteacher's wages. My family decided that I would be able </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">to go to Moccasin to school, even though my mother really did not like the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">idea of my having to leave Kanab at seven O'clock every Monday morning for</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the ride to Moccasin and then ride back every Friday afternoon after school. I had a good horse and was a pretty good rider so I got along fine most of the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> One Friday after school I had to use another horse because my horse was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> not able to make the trip home to Kanab. The day before, my cousin </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Leonard Heaton and I had been chasing quail after school. As there was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">quite a lot of snow on the ground (about eight inches), the quail were</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">very easy to catch. Leonard and I would go out in the pasture and ride</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">around in the sagebrush until we would scare up a covey of quail, then </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">we would start after them as fast as our horse could run. We would watch </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">where the quail lit in the snow and we would get there as fast as we could.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> The quail would light in the snow and then crawl into a sagebrush, We could see where the quail lit in the snow and where it had gone into a snow covered bush making it very easy to catch. A quail cannot fly very far - a hundred yards or so, but it is hard work for a horse when there are a lot of quail to chase. I chased so many that my horse gave out and I could not ride him home Friday after school.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> My Uncle Ed Heaton then decided that I should ride Old Jinks, a black mule,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Jinks was a good saddle mule and a good traveler, but he was lazy. I rode him two miles and was exhausted from beating him to make him go so I decided to go back to Moccasin and get another animal. While going back, Old Jinks would really hurry, but I had wasted a lot of time and it was getting late.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> When I reached Moccasin, Uncle Ed wanted to know what the trouble was. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">When I told him, he cut about a dozen willow switches for me and told me</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to wear them out on Old Jinks and that would make him hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> My uncle Ira Heaton, who was working about one and a half miles south of </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Moccasin building houses for the Indians on the Paiute Indian Reservation,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">had come to Moccasin on his way to Kanab to see his wife who lived there.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Uncle Ira decided he would go to Kanab with me that Friday night, He said</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">that I would get there all right if he rode behind Old Jinks and used the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">willow switches Uncle Ed had cut for me. Well, believe me, we had a ride.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Uncle Ira was riding a good horse and he kept that Old Jinks on a high lope most of the way. The only times we stopped were to open gates.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Uncle Ira rode with me back to Moccasin Monday morning. That was the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">fastest trip I had ever made from Kanab to Moccasin on horseback - I</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> should say "muleback".<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><i><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--></span></i><i><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Jonathan Delaun Heaton</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-57619901289342954132008-02-06T15:36:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:37:26.999-08:00Molasses Making at Moccasin<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.1in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">Pa had a big stockyard joining the barn where they shucked corn. He grew </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">lots of corn and squash to feed the horses, cattle, and pigs in the winter.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">We raised turkeys and geese and would pick the geese for down, for pillows,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> twice during the summer. Chicken feathers and corn shucks were used for mattresses or ticks for the beds.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> We grew melons, peaches, grapes, and cane. I remember stripping and topping</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the cane in preparation for making molasses. I have fed the cane to the molasses mill and stirred the juice in the big vats while it was cooking. Pa would take the good skimmings to make candy, which we poured into big </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">wooden boxes. We would keep a hammer and chisel there to break off a chunk</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to eat.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> When the molasses would reach a certain state, Pa would have us put well</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">washed peaches in some of it, peeling and all, to make peach preserves,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">which was stored in 20 gallon barrels. A small hole was cut in the top,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> with a fitted lid, so we could get the preserves out for use.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> There was a big shed where Pa stored big barrels of molasses. People came</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> from all over the country to buy his molasses and peach preserves.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Hannah Elizabeth Heaton Roundy</span></i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-44544121252673051712008-02-06T15:35:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:35:50.704-08:00Memory Chips (Nan Esplin Johnson)<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Moccasin was always a special place for me from the first I remember of</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> it. I'd never miss a chance to go there. I looked forward to summer and was on my best behavior so I could go spend a week with Grandma Heaton.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">There was a feeling at Moccasin you couldn't feel anywhere else. It's too </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">bad everyone doesn't have a Moccasin. The closeness of the families - just</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> one big happy family really. To my thinking, Grandma and Grandpa Heaton were the founders of the happy, peaceful feeling that existed there. This was instilled in their children and it has been carried on.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Nan Esplin Johnson</span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-68717758647431509492008-02-06T15:32:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:34:10.122-08:00Memories of Home (Gilbert G. Heaton)<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.2in; text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"></span></u><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">I am the youngest son of Lucy Elizabeth Carroll and Jonathan Heaton. There</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">were eleven children in the family: Charles C., Esther, Kezia, Christopher</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> C., Edward C., Lucy, Ella, Sterling, Myself, and Amy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> I can remember going to school in the old home, in the home Aunt May now </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">lives in, and in the home of my brother Charles. I also went to school in</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> the old school house across the road from the old home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> When the school house was built, Father and some of the boys went out at</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.55pt;">night and laid it off north to south by the North Star, so it would be</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> facing north.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> This building also served for parties, gatherings, court hearings, and </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">church. One of those gatherings the cattle men held to see what could be</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> done about people stealing cattle by working over brands to make them their own. One fellow in particular was a problem. Some wanted to be a little easy on him. Others wanted to give him the works. After some dis</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">cussion, Lehi Jones of Cedar City, Utah got up and during his remarks said</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> that "life is what you make it". I have always remembered this.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> I learned, as I grew older, that Father and Mother made life good. Father </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">was always planting a tree or making a fence, or making a better road that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> would do some good and make life easier, Mother was always working and </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">giving instructions to us kids so that our part of the work would be easier.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> She was always ready to help someone else. Even the Indians came to her in sickness and hunger.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Mother was never idle. When she was not working, she would be knitting </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">or darning stockings, making quilts and many other things. She was always</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">making up beds for travelers that came and went from Moccasin. There were</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">many cattlemen, sheep men, travelers, and also Church people. It was when</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">one such group was going from Kanab and Orderville to the Dixie Settlement</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> that Francis M. Lyman blessed me and gave me my name.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> With all this traveling of guests, Father and Mother never failed to have</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">morning and evening prayer and would invite the traveling public to pray</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> with us. Only once can I remember of one fellow who went outside while the prayer was being said. We always turned the backs of the chairs to the table to have prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Talk about home evening - we had it every night. In the summer it would be eating melons. In the fall and winter it was eating pine nuts and roasting quail on a thread hanging from the mantle in front of the fire place. Those were what we call "the good old days".<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Father had cattle and sheep when I was a boy, and I can still see the big </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">herd of cattle at Pipe Springs, and see the older fellows bring large herds</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> of cattle off the Moccasin Mountain, by the Sand Springs. You could see them all up and down the trail. This would be done when the snow got too deep on the mountain. Also, I can remember when they used to bring the sheep herd off the mountain at the same place.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> In the fall and winter, we would make traps to catch quail. We would make a place over at the cow stable in the barn to keep them in. At one time, Father screened off the north end of the ground and, it seemed to me, we had hundreds of quail in the place. This is where we would get them for </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">roasting in front of the fire and for Sunday dinners. Mother used to always</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> have lots of chicken too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Living in those days, Father taught us to save and be prepared for tomorrow -</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> something they are trying to get us to do now by having a year or two of food and clothing on hand, Father used to grind corn and have his wheat </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">made into flour every fall so we would have a year supply, or mor</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">e</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> on hand</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> all the time. He also raised hogs, and at Thanksgiving and Christmas time we'd kill enough to last. We cured the hams and bacon in a salt brine. Also, he used to smoke a lot of meat. After it was cured, he would kill a beef or two and make corned beef by curing it in a fifty gallon barrel. I wish I knew how to do it like they did. When I was a kid it tasted mighty good.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Father always liked to keep things picked up and everything in its place.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Each team of horses had its stall and the saddle horses had theirs. The harnesses and saddles had their place in the shed. If someone had to go </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">out in the dark of the night, they would know which harness went with which</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> horse.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">Father did a lot of freighting and, at times, would have four horses, and</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> sometimes six, to a wagon. As a boy, I thought I was quite big when he </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">would let me drive the teams, whether they were hitched to the wagon, the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> plow, or cutting grain.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Just another thought or two on saving and preparing for the tomorrow. We</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> used to raise a lot of fruit and garden stuff. Father made long wooden </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">dryers and they would dry apples, plums, and the like, as well as bottling</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">some. They also raised a lot of cane and made molasses, which was put in</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">barrels and cans. Every fall Father would make a batch of peach preserves</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">by putting peaches in the molasses. He stored it in a large oak barrel -</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">that and his honey. Father always had bees, This is about all the sweets</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> we would get, I can remember when Father would get a pack of sugar, He </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">would take half of it and leave with Aunt Amy's family, and half would be</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> brought out to Moccasin. We never went hungry. That kind of life made healthy kids, and healthy grownups too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> As a boy of five or six years old, I would have to get up early in the </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">morning and get out to the barn to tend to the calves and do the chores.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">It was one of these cold mornings in the winter that I heard Charl say he</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">was 40 years old that morning. I thought that was sure old for anyone to</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> be.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Another time, we were milking cows and Ed would milk a spotted cow that was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> mean to kick. She used to give a lot of milk, and Ed had the bucket full </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">and running over with milk foam when the old cow up and kicked the bucket</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> of milk all over Ed. I can hear him saying, "Watch out, you're kicking milk all over the devil."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> I used to have a nick name that was given to me from the old horse named Tob.</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">One morning Old Tob was dead in his stable with legs stiff. When they tried</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">to pull him out, his stiff legs made it hard to do. One morning when I went</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> out to the barn to help with the chores, I said I was just as stiff as Old Tob was when he died. I carried the nickname "Stiffy" with me for a long time. One of my old Indian friends, Georgie Georgie, saw me a while back and called me "Stiffy",<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">- Gilbert G. Heaton</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-47598499071574147622008-02-06T15:28:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:31:05.293-08:00Memories of Home (Fred E. Heaton)<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Father had a "green thumb". He was quite a florist and gardener. He planted the first lawn at Moccasin. He also planted Japanese Lilac and a </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >snowball bush on the lawn. He planted a birch tree and other lilacs and</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > roses. My mother said their little home and surroundings became a little paradise, Climbing roses covered the east and north sides of the front porch.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> My parents and we children were a close knit family. Mother said there never was a happier home and their lives were full. Eight children were </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >born to them. Mother also said the ranch was ideal for children with its</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > flowers, lawns, vegetable gardens, orchards, farm and animals. To them even haying was a delight. They would ride down the lane to walk back. Papa would catch them a little rabbit which they would try to raise as a pet. Usually it would escape or suffer a worse fate. Mother told of the wild donkey my father brought us children. Old Bird was one of our choice kid horses. We also caught wild fawn on the Kaibab Mountain and raised them for the Government.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> The surrounding mountains became a part of us and our lives, with trips on the hills to the south and the magnificent view it gave us of Moccasin </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >with its neat patchwork of farms, gardens, and homes in their summer green.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > The mountains contained various trails which lead to distant places, but also meant a return to Moccasin. The hills were made up of these trails, </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >the canyons, the little hollow, the hollow, the peaks, the lower and upper</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >flat rocks, the money rocks, grandma and grandpa pine trees, the gum trees,</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > and to cap it off, the red field hills where the corn and dry land farm set at the base of these great, red hills.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> The various springs were an important part that made Moccasin. The Sand Spring being the biggest and most important. The water boiled up through cracks in the sand rock, causing sand to be moving all the time. This </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >spring provided water for the round reservoir, the gardens, the tank where</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > the big water fights took place, and for culinary water. The long reservoir spring also had its own distinction - the long tunnel with its even temperature both winter and summer. This is where shelves were placed within the tunnel and each family had a place to keep their milk, creamy </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >and butter, etc. Then there was the upper spring in the canyon which</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >later became the culinary water. There were little springs along the</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > little hill, the main one they called the dipping pen. It was above where Uncle Chris lived.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Other memories of Moccasin:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Easter meant the whole community going off in wagons and horseback to </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >the canyon, hollow, Blue Knolls, Chris' Spring, or other places of interest</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > for fun and picnics. Easter time also meant apple trees loaded with beautiful blossoms.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Our April fool joke on our teacher Dave Rust turned out to be a joke on</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > us before the day was over. We had locked him out of the school house </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >and later he hiked us over the south hill to Pipe Valley. After reaching</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >the floor of the valley, Rust went west to visit a rancher friend named</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > Raoul. We students made our way to Pipe Springs where we rode back to Moccasin with Uncle Jesse Palmer. We were all exhausted from the hike.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The parties we created at the various homes were also a part of Moccasin</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > along with trapper Gilkey's great candy pulls as he stretched the candy from a big hook in Grandma's kitchen all the way across the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Gilkey had wanted to take the wolf alive and after the Indian named </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Merrycats had shot the wolf in his trap. Gilkey said, "If I catch Merry</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >-cats, I'll turn him into a wild cat."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The melon busts, hay rides, trips to Kanab in a wagon to see a circus.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Piling hay for my father with a group of youth in the moonlight when</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" > my father was ill.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Going on the desert with my father and learning the cattle business.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Going for a ride in Grandpa's new car for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Separating milk at the company separator.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.2in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The old outdoor privy and its freezing temperatures in the winter hasn't been forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.2in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The horse races up the lane, the use of teams for all the farm work </span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >and for all means of transportation and the breaking of colts to ride.</span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >The winters of the deep snows and the problems we had with the livestock.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >Injuries that all or most of us sustained on the farm or riding horses and many times were taken care of at home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.6pt;font-family:Symbol;font-size:100%;color:black;" >-<span style=";font-family:";" > </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" >My first sense and taste of death when Aunt Nonie died. It was in May and the lilacs were in bloom. It had snowed and the bushes were all weighed down. Her death was a great shock to the community.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 1.8pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> All in all, Moccasin was a good place for a boy to grow up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:";" >- Fred E. Heaton</span></i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-49796260402681993052008-02-06T15:27:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:28:13.259-08:00Memories of Emily Esplin Adair<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;">I'll tell you some of the things I remember about things that happened</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> at Moccasin.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> There was the time I fell in the dipping vat. What I remember about that</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> was not the falling in or being pulled out, but it was Uncle Alvin who </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">brought me home. I had a long brown overcoat around me and it was cold,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> late fall was the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> I remember one day the men were all chasing a wild black horse, a beauty,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> all around the houses and corrals. When they corralled and caught him, Uncle Chris was going to ride him. The women were excited and tried to persuade him not to. They thought he might get hurt or killed. He rode the horse, though, and came out alright. That is the only time I can remember Uncle Chris.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> There were times when the women went to Aunt Lucy's in the evenings to quilt or sew carpet rags. Fred, Chris, Ed and I used to make a big ring on the floor with chalk and play marbles. They were always pleasant evenings. Fred didn't always play. When he did he was always too much for the rest of us. Chris was good at marbles, baseball, and everything. The </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">girls played with us a little, and we played a lot of jacks, rag dolls and</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> paper dolls. The most fun I ever had was fun we made ourselves without money, or with the tiniest bit of money, or things that cost money.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> It was fun to go to the long reservoir or the boiling springs. We little </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">ones usually went there along with the bigger girls. I suppose the bigger</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> boys had to work in the day time. Nabbie Spencer was the largest of the girls and the leader.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> One of the real interesting things was picking geese. The women, Aunt Lucy,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Aunt Sarah, Mother, Aunt Persis Spencer, maybe Aunt Jane and once Uncle Alvin's, Lucy, would sit on the steps leading to the upstairs of the </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">grainary, or on chairs, with tubs in front of them and strip the geese of</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> all their feathers, except wing feathers. There would be two or three women around a tub. The big boys, Charl Heaton and others would bring the geese and take them away. Once I remember a goose got to flapping its </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">wings and sure did make feathers fly out of the tub. They picked the geese</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> in the summer time when it was warm. The grainary stood right across the narrow wagon lane opposite Aunt Lucy's house.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Nearly all the gatherings were at or around Aunt Lucy's. I guess it was</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the only house large enough to accommodate a crowd of people. Aunt Lucy</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> was always so calm and comfortable to be around and good natured too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Our house was a little bit of a thing of rough lumber boards, and batting </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">standing upright. It was up a slope a ways from Aunt Lucy's - to the north</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">-east, I think. There wasn't much around it except a clothes line, a tin </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">tub hanging on the outside wall, and a few desert brush behind it (old-man,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">I think). There was a board running out from one side of the door step with</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> flowers between it and the house, and had to carry water in a bucket to water the flowers.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Ed Heaton says the brush was greasewood.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> The big barn had a big row of horse-stables across the south side of it. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Hundreds and hundreds of horses have been fed in these stables that belonged</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to travelers passing through. Hundreds and hundreds of people have eaten at Aunt Lucy's table and slept in Aunt Lucy's beds, and I think none have ever been charged for it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.45pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Some people were sure tremendous workers in those days and willing to</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> work without pay from morning to midnight.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Uncle Jonathan was around Moccasin quite a lot, and he was the one they</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">all looked to in all emergencies. He could do anything, set broken arms,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> broken legs, broken collar bones and everything. He would do it for nothing, just because it needed to be done. Or you could pay him $2.50 if you had it, and wanted to.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">The fence around the big corral at Moccasin was what they call a palisade</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">fence, long straight cedars standing upright close together. Took a lot</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">of hard work to make one, and a lot of straight cedars. About 4/5 of the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> way to the top were wires that run along both sides of the fence and twisted together to hold all the posts just where they ought to be and make everything solid.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-63266791946073170842008-02-06T15:25:00.001-08:002008-02-06T15:25:41.752-08:00Mealtime at MoccasinAt mealtime the table was set for a dozen or more people. The knives and forks were placed on the table, plates were turned over with a glass or cup by them. A spoon dish was in the middle of the table by a vase of flowers, when flowers were in bloom - wild flowers and the ones we raised. We all had our special spoon and would say please pass the spoons. Mother liked the same spoon each time too.<br /><br />The food was placed on the table. Our chairs had their back to the table and we would all kneel down by our chairs and have our family prayer each morning and night and the blessing on the food at our mid-day meal. Father always led in this, then the next meal he would ask mother, then the oldest son or daughter and down the line until all had a turn, and then we would start over. Even the baby just learning to talk had a turn, with mother's help.<br /><br />We were always together at meal-time. It was a pleasant and happy time. Each morning or evening at mealtime, just so we got it done, father or mother would read a chapter or two from the Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants or faith promoting stories. Sometime our older brothers and sisters would do the reading. It made good readers of them.<br /><br />The large bell was fastened on top of the granary, just a few steps from our back door and was rung awhile before mealtime so we could all come and get washed up nice and clean for the meal. We could hear the bell ring all over the place.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">- Lucy Heaton Esplin</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-2953736379892594092008-02-06T15:22:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:24:25.028-08:00Lucy<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Moccasin, with its several families, was Lucy's permanent home. At different times, Kezia, Jane and Vine lived there too. Jane and Vine were first </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">wives and never had to go underground. But the five Heaton brothers worked</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">together for quite some time, and their agriculture and livestock interests</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> were centered at Moccasin the year around. However, in the summertime, their sheep grazed the mountain ranges and valleys.<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> I remember sleeping with Mother in Lucy's soft bed, the sun opening our eyes early in the morning as it peeped over the orchard and into the open bedroom door. In the pleasant twilight, we all gravitated to the long front porch where the grown-ups talked of such interesting things, leaving us children torn with the decision of whether to stay and listen to go to play tag, hide-and-seek, or run-sheep-run. There was always a high swing to test our courage as to who dared go furtherest into outer space. The boys providing the energy for the take off.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> The reservoir afforded us the most fun. The path to it took us through sand so hot we would use our bonnets or swimming dresses as frequent standing platforms on which to cool our bare feet. It was there I learned to swim and was proud of my accomplishment.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> After one July 24th celebration, Emily and I went for a visit and stayed six weeks. With Lucy's two girls our age, Esther and Kezia, we made quite a dynamic foursome. We did our share of the work and still had time on our hands. We hunted wild strawberries, picked the geese for feather pillows, and went swimming every day but one. That one being missed so I could honestly keep my promise to Mother "not to go swimming every day". One day we got venturesome and explored the boiling spring up in the meadow. It was supposed not to have a bottom. The water was clear and cold and came boiling up from a deep, round hole. We screamed and shivered as we tested it with our toes, then little by little slipped in. We waded around in the shallow ditch, then slowly inched into the freezing, boiling caldron. We needn't have worried about it being bottomless, for the stream </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">of water came up with such force it was impossible for us to lower ourselves</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> against its vehement impact. Kezia thought she touched bottom once with her toes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> One time we jumped on the back of a wagon driven by a young Indian. He was hauling rock from a nearby canyon and we went for a ride. Four of us must </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">have overwhelmed him for, although he knew Esther and Kezia well, we couldn't</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> get him to talk.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> There was always good eating at Lucy's, but nothing tasted better than her suppers of bread and milk and Moccasin onions. We climbed the orchard trees for peaches and different kinds of grapes tangled among the limbs. One evening about dusk, we went to a tree we had spotted earlier in the day. Its white, mealy fruit was just getting ripe. We filled a white flour sack about half full, then cautiously smuggled it through the back door and up-stairs to our bedroom. After we went to bed, we spent the long evening, until midnight, reading novels and eating peaches.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Any time of a late afternoon, we might expect to see one of the boys or men</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> coming up the lane with a huge watermelon tucked under each arm, a signal for a small or large melon bust. Often some of the Indians found it handy to be around then. We always had melon for dessert at meal times, where </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">we flipped seeds at each other with well-aimed accuracy - always at the one</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> least expecting it. Ed loved to surprise his mother.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> There was always so much fun and laughter, warmth and friendliness at Lucy's</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> that everyone felt at home, whether it was the hired hands, the wayside traveler, businessmen, political or church dignitaries, a sick Indian, or a needy tramp. All found a rich supply of physical succor and emotional comfort and cheer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> Lucy was as busy as any mother with a large family. There was always sev<sup></sup></span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">eral, and often many, extras to do for, but somehow she salvaged time for</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> a cheerful word, contagious laughter, and "need it now" demands from the many coming and going out of her home.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--> When Lucy comes to mind, I often recall "The Vision of Sir Launfal", by</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> James Russell Lowell:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.95in 0.0001pt 0.4in;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.4pt;">Not what we give but what we share, for the gift without the</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"> giver is bare;<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.05in 27pt 0.0001pt 0.4in;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Who gives himself with his alms feeds three: Himself, his hungry neighbor, and me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"><i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <i style=""><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">- Amy Carroll Stark</span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921295845461640045.post-29547840298347468832008-02-06T15:20:00.000-08:002008-02-06T15:21:12.023-08:00His Father Trusted Him<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0.2in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">When Joseph, Chris's oldest boy, was a mere lad of eight years, he and his</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> father were putting in a garden and ran out of seed. The father looked </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">at the boy for some time then said, "Jody, do you think you are big enough</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> to ride your little pony to Orderville to get us some more seed?" The boy knew it was a long way but bravely said "yes Pa, if you think I can, but where will I get the seed?" "I'll send a note to Uncle Alvin and he will get them for you. It is 33 miles to Orderville so take two days for </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">the trip - one to go, and one to come back. Uncle Alvin will take care of</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> you."<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;">The next morning he was on his way - a lone little lad. He knew where to stop his horse for water and to let it browse while he ate his lunch. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">Upon his arrival at Orderville, he found Uncle Alvin and stayed the night</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> with him. He was lonesome and his parents seemed far away. The next </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">morning his Aunt Jane and Aunt Amy Heaton, feeling sorry for him, put Aunt</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> Amy's son Israel, on the horse with him for company on the return trip. </span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.5pt;">When Alvin came out of the house, he lifted Israel off the horse and said,</span><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: "Courier New"; letter-spacing: 0.6pt;"> "Joseph's father trusted him to come alone, and we can trust him to go back alone."</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0