The Arlo Vance Family today

Sorry, Mom, I thought it would be fun to give you antlers, and I thought there was one without. If there is one, I can't find it. If Larry has one without antlers, perhaps he can add it.

I never thought of Donnie as the caboose before.

I think that Bonnie's wolf is looking for something to eat!

I love being with my family!

Slowpoke

A fair young boy and nice girl met.
One sunny day Jeanette got all wet.
She said, "This boy just moves to fast!"
That tale is now something of the past.
December temple wedding was set.

The ol' man

Arlo Vance hunted deer and rabbit

For him it was a severe habit.

He shot them dead and chopped their head

The skin was stripped down to the meat red

And Gatha had to cook it

The Model-A

Arlo had a very old Model A,
Sometimes he would pull a hood sleigh.
That old Frankenstein was modified.
And two boys that antique car tried.
To those boys dismay he gave it away!

BLOG Bound in a Book

I compiled the articles and comments into a bound volume 8-1/2 by 11. The book can be acquired from LuLu.com, as can some other BLOG compilations. Follow the link below to my store front. You can select the Arlo and Gatha Vance Family BLOG 2008 and then purchase it online from LuLu.

My LuLu Store Front

Bread and Milk

When in my youth I liked one of the simple things in life -- bread and milk. We lived in a rural area where some of the people in our immediate vicinity kept milk cows. The Haslett family had some dairy cows. The Sowards family also had milk cows. Grandpa Dunn had milk cows too.

We would receive milk that we purchased or milk where traded labor instead of money. Kent and Donnie were the ones that did the work the most when we bartered labor for milk. I do remember distinctly having warm milk just after it had come from the cow. A pail of milk would be extracted from the cow and we could keep a portion of the milk. The milk would be strained through a linen cloth. If cream was desired then we would depend on gravity separation of the milk. The milk would be placed in the refrigerator and then the cream would be skimmed from the top.



Baked bread is something that is not done in our home much. When I was younger I remember having fresh home baked bread. My favorite type of bread was a fairly heavy bread. Warm bread with butter and jelly was delicious.



I have had many glasses of milk and bread topped with a bit of sugar. The ritual was to take slices of bread (fresh bread was the best), and break them into bite size morsels. The bread was placed piece by piece into a tall tumbler. On top of the broken bread was placed a spoonful of sugar. The last ingredient was the milk, which was poured into the tumbler until the milk was just at the brim. A long handle spoon was used to extract the savory morsels of sweetened bread. I have not had this for decades, but I still cherish the thought of when we had a ready supply of milk from the cows and fresh baked bread. Now I settle for milk from a plastic jug and cookies that are prepared in a factory in some far away city.

My Prize

We spent a couple weeks in Utah last month. We had the opportunity to spend some time with my mother. She bought a new computer and I was compelled to use it while there to keep up on my blogging habit. In the craft/sewing/laundry/storage room that contained the computer was a collection of frames and pictures that were being prepared for the family reunion that was the coming week. There was one needlepoint that was to be mounted and framed. My mother asked me if I would help her with mounting it. I was not very helpful. The time there managed to expire before it was mounted. Mom wanted to mount the needlepoint using tape. I told her that it would not work well and that something mechanical would be much better. She sewed an extension on the needlepoint and stretched it around the back of the mounting board.

Before the work of art was mounted, I noted to Jeanette the nice appearance of both sides of the needlepoint.

We stuffed bags, ate out, looked at historical sites, and many other things.



The family congregated at the cabin that mom arranged to get for our use in Pine Valley. Those that attended the reunion were given the opportunity to earn storebucks for the family store. I earned enough to buy the needlepoint.

Now I need to find a nice place to hang my prize. I think it is beautiful.

Kent's story - PreSchool

I recently went through an exercise where I made an inventory of my life. Somewhere mixed in the lines of scribbling on the notebook were memories of my childhood mixed with stories I had heard growing up. I had a hard time separating my own memories from what others had said. I think history is like that. What is accepted as historical fact is sometimes a mixture of what happened and the perspective of writer of the history.

My earliest memory that is truly my own is of a day in the nursery in the church house in La Jara, Colorado. I was fascinated by the wonderful toys that held two young boy's interest. Myron and I would gather the colorful cat eye marbles and place them on the top of the wooden jig. It was fascinating to watch the glass orbs as they traversed each runway and dropped to the next level. The rolled back and forth until they dropped out the final runway into a bowl with a wonderful melody of clattering marbles and giggling boys. We would scoop them up and go through the ritual over and over again.

I remember an old tin car. That was worn and rusted. It had pedals in the bottom of it to propel the car forward, but we were too small to reach them. We played on it and pushed one another back and forth.

I remember an old Ice house near La Jara. It was no longer used to store ice, but the building still stood, and in front of it was a one room home. I don't know if we lived there or if we just visited someone who did.

I remember a home called the "Ross House", that had a lilly pond in front of it. My little sister, Bonnie, fell into that pond and nearly drowned. The pond was filled with dirt.

I remember an incident with the thatched room of a potatoe cellar. Donnie and I were going to make a fort in the thatching to play boyhood games. He climbed up first and I followed. He was carrying a manure fork for moving the thatching. A manure fork is similar to a pitch fork, but has wide blades instead of tines. As I climbed to the top of the cellar, I heard Donnie cry out, "Watch out!". I looked up in time to take a glancing blow on the top of my head from the falling fork. Mom cleaned up the wound using a garden hose. The water was cold. I have no permanent scar or disfiguration so the incident was not as important as it seemed to me that day.

We passed many an hour in the fields near our home. We played as cowboys and Indians. We were knights of the round table. We saw ourselves as war heroes and magicians. Our imaginations and our bodies grew, and we enjoyed ourselves.

We moved to a home near Romeo. Dad was working as a ranch hand. That was the year I would have gone to kindergarten, but Romeo had no kindergarten. We continued playing and growing. While we lived here, Donnie and I were given some toys to help us with the jog of growing up. They were fascinating. Each of us received a hatchet and a knife. They were real. They had ivory colored handles. The hatchets had compasses embedded into the handles. They hung from our belts, and we really felt like big kids.

I remember the hatchets and I remember the knives. I don't remember what followed. Mom tells me that we, along with our cousins, went into a granary near the house and tore out the live wiring with our new tools. She tells us that the wiring in the granary was live and that it was a wonder that we were not electrecuted. If there were angels there looking over us, I did not see them. Mom swears that they must have been there.

One morning, I got up and was told that I had a new brother. I don't remember any commotion that night. One day he was not there, and the next day he was.

Dad was hurt at work. As a child, I am sure I didn't understand. I knew that he was taken to the hospital and he wasn't with us any more.

Mom had to go to work and we moved to Manassa to be close to Grandma and Grandpa Dunn. We lived just a block to the west of them on what is now called 3rd Streed. Mom began working in the school lunch system. There was a room in that house that was locked. I think it must have been full of the owner's belongings. My mind imagined all types of things that could be in that room. To the south of the house was an apricot tree. To this day, I enjoy the song, Popcorn popping on the apricot tree.

Family Photos (ca. 1956)

Thanks to Bonnie Lynn Olsen for sharing this image.

Reunion starts with a temple visit

For a long time, Mom (Gatha) has wanted all of her family to go to the temple together. We did that on Thursday, June 12. Mom was pleased to have us all together.

In the photo to the right are Larry and Jeanette Vance, Emery and Bonnie Olsen, Betty and Kent Vance, Donnie and Gloria Vance and seated is Gatha Wilson

The Reunion

We were fortunate to have some time to spend together in Pine Valley, Utah. Momma Gatha has a friend that owns this fine place we stayed for a couple days. We gathered and conversed.



We worked in the projects for the reunion that have been proceeding for the past few months.



We then began to have some fun. We played games -- like this redneck horseshoe game. Balls on a rope were hurled at a stand with three rungs. The lower rung scores three, the middle two, and the top but one. Here Emery shows off his style.



And here is Bonnie holding her cache of blue balls waiting her turn.



We had a jumping good time.



Sometimes I even surprise myself.



Shandi says, "What are you thinking?"



Monica just is happy to be here.



And then there is the good looking brother, Kent.



We enjoyed watching some skits.



Some are less inclined to be photographed.



With some coercion I was able to see most of her face.



Now she thinks it is funny.



And then we see. It was our beautiful Danette. Why be camera shy?



Someone scores a ringer.



YUP, it was me.



Story time.



We had a birthday party. Here Katee is toting her bag on her shoulder.



The store was kept for last. There was a merit system, where each participant was allowed to earn redneck bucks to spend at the store. Here are the hoards descending on the booty.



Aubrey followed her mothers queue of being a bit reluctant to put on her best for a photograph.



But her grandpa, Don, was there at his best.



Then we packed and ...



Said goodbye.

Larry and Automobiles

Some of the pictures below are same as the originals because I do not have originals. The first car that I did in was a 1954 Chevrolet. It belonged to Kent. Some friends and I went driving in it and knocked the air filter off the top of the engine when we backed up. The breather hit the fan and damaged the radiator. Kent then later drove it and it overheated on him and was ruined.



The color below is a bit off, but the model is right. We had a red 1953 Ford. Dad got it from Wilford Haynie. He was about blind. Hi glasses were thick and you could only see the pupil of his eye in them if he was looking at you. He quit driving and dad took the car on his bills. I ended up using the car the most. I drove it to school. I was in High School at Centrauri.

One night some of my associates and I went to Alamosa and were driving on top of the levees along the Rio Grande. We hit a deep rut in the dike and broke the motor mounts. The engine slid forward and the fan closed off the fins on the radiator. We found a pole and pushed the engine back in place and then took pocket knives and straightened out all the fins on the radiator. I drove it for months after that.

Mom took the car and went to Albuquerque and slammed on the brakes at a street light. The engine moved forward and closed all the fins on the radiator. She continued to drive it and got the engine hot. She put water in it and cracked a head. The car was hauled back to Manassa on a truck.



Before Kent went to VietNam he bought a new car. An early 1970s American Motors Hornet. Green. We used it as a family car while Kent was gone. I was driving it in Alamosa one day and failed to notice someone that had stopped for a person in a crosswalk and crashed into another car. Kent found out after he arrived home from VietNam.



When I was in high school I bought a 1962 Chevrolet Impala with a 327 v-8. It ran fairly well, and I was in the process of doing modifications on it.



In the course of stupidity I managed to have the steering wheel come off in my hands while I was driving to Simeon Dunn's funeral. I didn't make it that day to the funeral.



After my broken ribs healed I took the engine and drivetrain out of the Chevrolet and put it in the 1953 Ford. It was a strange machine. The speedometer only showed 120 MPH. I had a tachometer on the engine. The car was doing about 120 when the tachometer read about 5600 RPM. I drove it one day to 7000 RPM. I later wrecked the Ford by driving too fast around a corner and slid into a rock; I was going about 30 MPH. That was the end of that.



Donnie had a 1965 Cadillac that he let me use. It was a gas guzzler and it started to burn oil. I parked it by the garage. Someone stole some of the parts off the engine while it was sitting. Dad eventually sold it to a junk yard.

I left home for a while and worked in Farmington, New Mexico for a while. When I was there I bought a 1964 El Camino.



I was out driving crazy one day and sideswiped a telephone pole. Someone in Farmington offered me a 1965 El Camino in trade for the one I had because he wanted the frame. I make the swap. The 1965 El Camino had a 283 V-8. A farmer in the area offered to give me a 427 if I would put the 283 in his car and I could have the 427. I made the swap. It was a learning experience. I put lots of extras on the engine and it would accelerate quickly. I spun a rod bearing on it. Then I went on a mission and dad sold it.



When I returned from my mission my dad had acquired another El Camino that belonged to Donald Jarvis. I had that for the next several year. I sold it to a junk yard when I left Provo to go to Greenville Texas after I graduated from BYU.



While I was at BYU I met Jeanette Cheshire and married her. She had the nifty old 1952 Ford Galaxy. That was our family car. We were in the process of trying to improve it when...



a man in a little pickup ran a red light and hit the Ford broadside.



While we were in Greenville I bought a Chevy pickup. When we lived in Littleton several years later I sold it as junk. I saw somebody driving it after that.



Another car the we acquired in Greenville was this Chevrolet station wagon. I hated this car. I called it the gutless dog. It served our purposes, but it did not perform well. We sold it to a lady for $200 when we lived in Littleton.



Our family had grown. We needed more room. I bought a Ford Clubwagon from John Vincent. We used this van for a few years.




One day the van left us stranded in Salt Lake City. We bought the van below to replace it. It was not quite a replacement, but it was easier on gasoline and was easier to drive. Anita and Debra were in the van when a man ran a stop sign and pulled in front of them. Ouch.



Jeanette and I bought two new vehicles. A 1999 Saturn SL and a 1999 Ford Ranger pickup. We had the Saturn for only a few months when Jeanette and I were heading to the Denver temple and were just a couple blocks from home, when a woman pulled across the highway in front of us. We totaled our new Saturn. We had to deal with Allstate Insurance. That was the most painful part of the whole ordeal. The same was true with dealing with the Ford Aerostar accident too.




We bought another Saturn to replace our blue Saturn. This one was metalic silver grayish kinda color. We gave that car to Craig and Brina as a wedding gift.


We bought a 2004 Mercury Grand Marquis so we could travel in a little more comfort. We will probably still be making car payments when the car is dilapidated and retired.



And our last purchase is a Chevrolet Aveo5. It is OK as a commuter, but I would not like to take too many long trips in it.