Little purple pansies, touched with yellow gold,
Growing in one corner of the garden old
We are very tiny but must try, try, try
Just one spot to gladden, you and I.

In whatever corner we may chance to grow,
Whether cold or warm the wind may ever blow,
Dark the day or sunny, we must try, try, try
Just one spot to gladden, you and I.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

We're Coming to Town

When we arrived in Logan to visit my grandparents (Harry and Elizabeth Shaw), Grandpa would go to the newspaper and have them write up an article that, "Bessie Harmon and her three children have come from Los Angeles to visit Harry and Elizabeth Shaw." It was typical to have reports from families printed in the newspaper. That made me feel like a celebrity!

People from outlying areas would come into Logan on Saturdays to shop. My mother, Bessie and my grandmother, Elizabeth would drive the car and park in the center of town on Main Street. There they would be able to visit with friends and relatives that would come in to shop on Saturday afternoons. Mother would give us each a dime to spend in the 10cent stores. I loved to buy "Big, Little Books." They were children's story books about cowboys, animals and other stories.

One day Grandpa made a U turn in the middle of the block on Main Street in Logan. A policeman (his friend), stopped him and said, "Harry, you know you can't do that!" (meaning it's against the law). And Grandpa responded, "I didn't think I could, but I did, didn't I!" And Grandpa just drove off!

On hot afternoons we'd all pile into Mother's car (5 children, and Grandpa and Grandma as well as Mother who drove). We'd take a trip up into the mountains and so enjoyed the cool breeze and the beauty of the river and mountains. On the way home, Grandpa always stopped at the Drive-in. We'd often order a fudgesicle and Grandpa would always order a "Poopsi-cola." We were so embarrassed and would correct him, yelling (so he could hear us - he was hard of hearing), "Grandpa it's a Pepsi Cola!!"

Grandpa worked in the Logan temple several days each week. He would rev up the motor of his Buick (important to own a Buick) so he could hear it and then zoom out the driveway. I didn't know what a temple worker was and I always thought he was a janitor at the temple. I'm glad to have found out years later that he served others as a temple recorder (not as a janitor).

Before my dad left us, he bought my mother a white car (possibly a Chevrolet). It had previously been a demonstration car and through the white paint we could still read "Mobil" who had sponsored the race car. That was very embarrassing to all of us. Mother drove that car for years until Grandpa and Grandma came to live with her and Grandpa bought her a tan colored Buick.

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful stories. Thanks for preserving them Joanne.

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