Outhouse Lore

Everybody who grew up in Manassa has heard outhouse stories. We were well acquainted with outhouses as more than two of the homes we lived in in Manassa had no indoor plumbing at one time.

There's many a story of a Halloween prank of tipping outhouses. There was a time that one was tipped over on the door and there was someone inside. Luckily for the pranksters, it was tipped over on the door. The big, wide shouldered man could not get out through the hole in the seat quickly enough to get ahold of them. There's another story of a family that was tired of their outhouse being tipped over each year. They moved the outhouse back about three feet, and a group of would be outhouse tippers became involuntary drop ins. I am not sure at this time of my life which were yarns and which were dramatically enhanced retelling of historically based incidents.

I remember the Sears and Roebuck catalog. The pages were a lot rougher than the soft toilet paper that replaced the catalogs when we began using the porcelain pot in the house. It was also nice to get rid of the canopy under the bed when we finally got indoor plumbing in the house on 3rd street. The outhouse became the shed for the garden tools.

I found this interesting outhouse Web site that shows the wide variety of outhouses. The most intriguing to me is the two story outhouse. I've often wondered what happens to those on the lower floor when the upper floor is in use.

Bonnie some years ago created a ceramic likeness of our outhouse in back yard and the moon, the dog, Mom, and Dad. I enjoyed it for a lot of years. It now hangs in Andrea's home. Maybe we can talk her into taking a snapshot of it to share. I thought Bonnie succeeded in capturing the essentials of successful outhouse use in a few pieces of clay.

This portion posted by Andrea:
This is part of the ceramic creation that Bonnie made and I have hanging in my bathroom. Unfortunately, shortly after this picture was taken G'pa perished by way of vibration from my new bathroom cabinet. He fell off the wall and landed, all of him, in the bathtub in about 100 pieces. :*-(

Letter to Keith

Photo of Leon's Family

Special Day for you know who...

Here is the birthday gal before arrival of guests!



See the lovely flowers. A corsage from the Vances in Texas and an arrangement from the Vances in Colorado. They were great! The Cake from the family in Washington Fields.

It was a special time to honor a special person! Grandma Gatha had a special afternoon with many family and friends coming by sharing cake and showing love. It was a time to let her know that many love her, even those who were not there physically, but in spirit. Thanks to all, especially thanks to Grandma for her special example and love shared to others.

What's a Family for anyway?

My first memories of family were family outings. Some had a purpose, some did not, they were just outings. We went camping together, we went to church together, we worked together, at times, we just hung out together. I've wondered at times what the purpose of families anyway?

Today my family is gathering for a special purpose. They are celebrating my Mother's 80th birthday. We're not all there, but we would be if we could. We all want to tell he we love her, and in a way express that same love for each other.

Dad loved the mountains and we loved going together in the mountains. We went on some outings that required that we all stretch ourselves. We worked together, we played together, we laughed together, we rested together, and together we would meet our goals. When one of us was tired or discouraged we were encouraged by the other members of our family.

For some of us, life has been hard. We have made choices that had consequences for us and for those we loved. We had loved ones die. We have sometimes had angry words with one another, but there has never been a question that we were loved and that we belonged to a wonderful family. I have never felt that I was unwelcome in a family member's home.

There was a time when the choices I had made in my life had left me feeling that there was very little hope and that I had very little value. During those times, I would visit my little brother and his family. He would call his wife and all seven of his children into the living room, and we would visit. He would put his arm around me and pull me to him as he said to his children, "This is my brother and I love him." That little gesture would give me the strength and courage to get back out there and keep trying to get my life in order.

I think in this we find the purpose of families. I believe that together we are stronger than any one of us is individually. I, like Nephi of old, was born of goodly parents. I have parents, siblings, a spouse, children, and grandchildren that love me. They love me for who I am. That love has never been conditional. That love has helped guide my life and keep me trying to overcome my faults and be a better man.

80 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE

WE WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU OF A SPECIAL SOMEONE WILLING TO SHARE HER 80TH YEAR OF EXPERIENCE COME THE 24TH. WE WILL BE HAVING A BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR GATHA ON SATURDAY, 18TH FROM 2:00-5:00PM AT HER HOME. IF YOU ARE IN THE AREA COME 'BREAK CAKE' WITH US!

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Why I am what I am

I love life
I love my Savior
I love my family
(My children, their mates, grandchildren
their mates, great grandchildren)
I love each of my children's mates. Gloria,
Betty, Emery, and Jeanette, are choice mates
for my children, and parents for my grandchildren.
I love my parents
I want to be with them forever
I am thankful for my temple sealings. and
the temple sealings of my children.
These things are very precious to me.
I know that God lives and that the laws and
ordinances that are given in the scriptures
are to help us to be happy.
I have never at any time felt disappointed with any
of my family, I don't disapprove of any of you.
I want all of you to be happy.
I believe that the Lord blessed me with great family,
I love everyone of those who are a part of my family.
I am thankful that the Lord gave us agency, so we
can choose what we will be. That is a great blessing.
I am thankful to be an American.
I am thankful for my home.
I have loved our family reunions.
I love my grandchildren, from Marcy to Eric
I love my great grandchildren, from Matthew to little Luke.
I hope that when I meet my parents again that they will
be as pleased with all of us as I am pleased to have each of
my family.
I would like it if I lived close enough to each of you to get
to know each child better than I do.
I loved it when Marcy, Danette, Cory, and the
older grandchildren would see me and come and hug me.
I want every person in my family to know of the love I feel
for each of you.
My family is my joy.
I am a child of God, a child of royal birth. So are each of you.

Boys and trees

I think every boy has a special tree in his life. I can remember several in my life. When we lived across the street from Maggie Weston, there was an old cottonwood tree between our house and Parkers' to the south. When we lived on third street, there was a willow tree between our house and the Haslett's, A cottonwood tree in the front yard with a swing on it, and a hollow apple tree that has special meaning to Donnie. At Elma's there was a tree house on the south side of the property. When Robert was a boy, there were a couple of trees in the yard. In one was his tree house, and in another was a squirrel that was really interesting. In front of Grandma and Grandpa Dunn's house, there was an elm. When Betty and I lived in Longmont, we had a Russian Olive that we replaced with a box elder.

Donnie and Jimmy Parker would climb high in the cottonwood between our homes. I was afraid to follow. I think that was probably one of the things that appealed to them.

The willow between our house and Haslett's had a tree house in it. It had been there for so long that it wasn't clear whether it was on our property on on the Haslett's. The barbed wire had grown into it and was buried beneath the bark.

The elm tree in front of Grandma Dunn's needed pruning. When the job was done, it was cut back radically. I was amazed that there soon was a ball of green growth at the top of the stump. Before long, it looked like a healthy tree again.

The hollow apple tree is where Donnie and his friends hid some Rocky Mountain Spring Water. It was the stump of that tree that give Donnie one of his nicknames when it was burned.

The cottonwood tree between our home and Sowards' to the north had a large, single roped swing. We would jump off of a 55 gallon drum onto the knot of that old swing. We spent many an hour going to and fro on it. I remember when one of my Kreps cousins got into big trouble because he lost a button swinging on that swing.

There was a treehouse in Elma's yard, but it was different. It was kept by girls. While we were up in the tree with them, their activities were not as alluring as matches and pocketknives.

There was a squirrel who built her nest each spring in the tree to the west of our home on Montrose. She would gather twigs until she had a huge ball shapped nest up in the tree. There, she would raise her little ones. As the season went on, and she had fulfilled her obligation as a mother, she would destroy that twig nest and she would chase her little ones away. I would swear that my mother did the same thing.

The Russian olive tree in our yard had a wonderful sweet smell when it bloomed. It was not a pretty tree, though. It was crooked and dropped little leaves into grass. Those leaves tracked into the house on wet shoes. Betty decided to have it taken out. My home teacher helped us with the job. He took a lunch break and left his ladder in the front yard. Betty and I looked out our living room window and there was a couple of mourning doves sitting on the ladder. They were looking longingly at where their olive tree had been.

We replaced that tree with a box elder tree. It grew straight and tall quite quickly. It had a characteristic, though that we found quite undesirable. It attracted box elder bugs, lots and lots of them.

In front of our current home, we have a miniature aspen grove. When we moved in, it looked neglected and appeared to be dying. I pruned it and have cared for it this summer. It looks healthy now and it has been enjoyable to watch it change.

Each tree I have written of has had a special place in my heart. Many of them are now gone from where they stood. They will grow forever in my boyish heart.

here you go...

Here are some apples... hope you enjoy them. They taste as good as they look (even the worms think so, however not all have worms) We got grapes from our grape vine and a few raspberries, a hand full of black berries. The peaches didn't show this year.

40 years...

Can you believe it ... 40 years ago I joined the Vance family!

What fun and growing times we have had in 40 years! (many 'lighter weight' years ago) We continue to grow in wisdom and love for each other and the family. Thanks to you all for your love.

Apples anyone?

We have lots of golden delicious apples on our tree which is about ready to harvest. I am going to have to get busy and bottle some apple pie in a jar soon. Our neighbor's trees are as full if not fuller this year! This is the first year in the 11 years we have lived here I have seen so many apples on our trees!

three's???

I have heard it comes in threes.... I found out that Harvey Holman passed away on the 3rd. This is from the Valley Courier:

HolmanPosted: Thursday, Sep 4th, 2008Harvey L. Holman, 76LA JARA — La Jara, Colo. resident Harvey L. Holman, 76, died Sept. 3, 2008 at his home in La Jara. Harvey was born Feb. 1, 1932 in Sanford, Colo. to Joe and Frances Vandiver Holman. He worked for the D & RGW and Durango & Silverton Railroads as a carman for many years. After retiring from the railroad, he worked for the Town of Sanford in their maintenance department. He enjoyed hunting, fishing and his dog. Harvey is survived by his children Ann Radcliff of Chico, Calif., Michael Holman of Corning, Calif., Lynne (John) Staggs of Alamosa, Colo.,Donnie (Michelle) Holman of Alamosa; Shelley (Jim) Raines of Ft. Morgan, Colo. and Janice (Martin Dominguez) of Alamosa, as well as by 14 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.Harvey was preceded in death by his parents, one brother one sister and one grandson. A graveside service will be held at 2:30 p.m. Sat., Sept. 6, 2008 at the Sanford Cemetery. Contributions are requested to the Valley Humane League and may be made through the mortuary office.Arrangements are in care of Rogers Family Mortuary in Alamosa.

Givers and takers

With my church callings, my work and my personal activities, I attend a lot of meetings. This gives me the opportunity to meet a lot of people. Among these people, I have seen two distinct personalities. The first personality type is demonstrated by people who always lift spirits and motivate others to be better. The second personality is typical of people that wear their friends out with their contstant complaining and criticizing. The first group is always a pleasure to be with. The second drains one of energy. The first is surrounded by people who enjoy their company. The second ends up alone and discouraged.

In a meeting I recently attended I heard someone share how they were frustrated by the apathy and incompetence of the people around him. He heard of a new approach he was trying. He went into a fast food restaurant that had been slow and inaccurate. He told them what a pleasure it was to do business with them and that he enjoyed coming into their establishment. He said that he can now go into that business and get the service and accuracy he expected. He said he got better results by being positive than he did by finding fault.

When I was teaching, I had a discipline plan one year that advocated catching students being good. That was a good year. I had my share of problems, but two things were different. My students were looking for things to please me and I was looking for things that they were doing well instead of the things they were doing wrong. Our perspective was altered and so was their behavior.

I would like to think that I can motivate others to be better. I want to have friends who seek out my company, but I am at times overcome with my need to have a pity party. The need to heap my problems up onto the shoulders of my friends wins out over my desire to be positive. I can be quick to find fault with the people around me and let my opinion be known. I then wonder why I am frustrated and alone.

Aunt Winni

Might I suggest that you go to www.alamosanews.com and to www.lubbockonlne.com for the obituaries for Aunt Winni. I felt the service was very special for a special lady. Her nephew Nathan Coombs gave the obit at the service and grandson Heath Cotter gave a talk. There were two special poems presented one by author Raymond Carver and the other was read by her niece, "the End that is better Than the Beginning." Her favorite song was an instrumental presented by her granddaughter, which was done on the piano and very lovely. Donnie, Larry and Kent were honorary escorts. That was a special honor. the grave was dedicated by her son in law - Keith Vardeman. The service was not to morn her passing but to celebrate her life. I hope I can have such a celebration when it is my time as well. Indeed it was a time of dedication of the special person she was as she blessed others lives.

Vance
Posted: Friday, Aug 29th, 2008


Wynona Winnibell Vance, 85



WOODROW, Texas — Former Manassa, Colo. resident Wynona Winnibell Vance was born March 18, 1923 in a logging camp near El Vado, N.M., the fifth child and second daughter of John Walter Langston and Delzia Geneva Bridges Langston. She passed away Aug. 27, 2008, in the home of her daughter Leslie on a farm near Woodrow, Texas.

She was preceded in death by her husband Earl Leslie Vance, her parents John Walter and Delzia Langston, her brothers Merlin, Ivan, and Joe Langston and her sisters Edna Coombs, Barbara King, and Doris Kirkham.

She is survived by her daughters Sue (Layne) Cotter, Leslie (Keith) Vardeman; her son Randy Vance along with four granddaughters, four grandsons, and seven great-grandchildren.

A funeral service will be held at 11 a.m. Sat., Aug. 30, 2008 at the Manassa First Ward Chapel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Interment will follow in the Manassa Cemetery. Visitation will be Fri., Aug. 29, 2008 from 7 until 8:30 p.m. and Saturday from 10 until 10:45 a.m. at the Rogers Family Mortuary in Manassa

In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations be made to the LDS perpetual education fund.

Arrangements are in care of Rogers Family Mortuary in Manassa.

Wynona Winnibell Vance

Lubbock Avalanche-Journal

Saturday, August 30, 2008
Story last updated at -

Wynona Winnibell Vance was born March 18, 1923 in a logging camp near El Vado, N.M. She was the fifth child and second daughter of John Walter Langston and Delzia Geneva Bridges Langston. She passed away August 27, 2008 in the home of her daughter, Leslie, on a farm near Woodrow. She was preceded in death by her husband, Earl Lesslie Vance; her parents, John Walter and Delzia Langston; brothers, Merlin, Ivan, and Joe Langston; sisters, Edna Coombs, Barbara King, and Doris Kirkham.

She is survived by her daughters, Sue Cotter and husband Layne; Leslie Vardeman and husband Keith; son, Randy Vance; four granddaughters; four grandsons; and seven great-grandchildren. A special thanks to Advanced Home Health & Hospice, and especially Josie. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations be made to the LDS perpetual education fund or hospice.

The most wonderful feeling

As we drove to Manassa this morning, my head was flooded with memories. I was feeling anxious about the funeral. There were members of my family that I hadn't seen for over three decades. I took my camera today thinking that I would have some pictures to post to the blog when we got home. If the success of the trip were measured by the number and quality of pictures taken, it would have to be considered a failure.

As we arrived at the Church house in Manassa, the parking lot was almost empty. I felt encouraged when I recognized Don and Gloria's PT cruiser. We parked by them and went into the building. It was empty except for the organist who was taking advantage of a few minutes to practice before everyone came. We were asked by a kind gentle man if we were going to the mortuary for the final viewing. We decided to follow him and his wife to the Mortuary that was just a block away.

The crowd on the porch of the building was promising. I could see my sister in law, Gloria, my brother, Don, my sister, Bonnie, and Mom. They greeted us warmly and we all went in to meet Aunt Mike's family. Each of them was so kind and warm. They were grieving, but they were gracious and thinking of others.

The funeral was uplifting and inspiring. Tears were shed as family members shared poetry, memories and testimonies. Those participating in the program shared their love for a wonderful woman who had taught them by the life she lived. Her grandson reminded us that just as there would be a reunion of family after the funeral, there would be a reunion on the other side with family that had been separated for years. I have never had a more effective lesson on Heavenly Father's plan of happiness.

When we returned to the chapel after the grave side service, I had another lesson on what is important. My camera sat on the table as I visited with my cousins, their children and their other cousins who had also come to bid farewell to a common loved one. The people in that room, were all one family linked by our love of Aunt Mike. To me, there is no feeling more wonderful than feeling I belong to a family. That feeling cannot be photographed, but today it's keeping me warm. Tomorrow it will be engraved in my heart.

Winnebell

Randy called me this evening and told me Winnabell passed away. He said that the funeral will be in Manassa on Saturday. I don't think I can be there.

I lived with Earl and Aunt Mike, that is what some people called her, for a year. It was before I went on my mission. She did give me some motherly advice that I took to heart. I am sad that she is gone.

Randy said that it was a relief for her to go because she was not doing well for some time.

Hyperlinks in the text

When you create a post and want to embed a hyperlink to another web page you first type out the text you want to be highlighted. After you highlight the text you want to be a link then you click the symbol at the top of the edit window that looks like a chain link.

This is a link to Larry's BLOG

I first selected the words Larry's BLOG with the cursor anchoring before Larry's and swiping until the entire phrase was highlighted and clicked on the icon of the link at the top. A window will pop up asking for the address of the web page (or other valid URL) that you wish to show. Fill in the fully qualified URL. For example -- http://larryvancefamily.blogspot.com. And then click on the OK button.

And viola' -- you have a hyperlink embedded in your post.

If you click on the tab at the top of the page labeled Edit HTML you will see the HTML code that makes the hyperlink. It looks like:

This is a link to < a href="http://larryvancefamily.blogspot.com/"> Larry's BLOG < /a>

Except for the spaces between the < and the a (had to put the space to keep the editor from making the link.

What I hated I have learned to love

When I was in school, I had an assignment to read and do a report on a poem. I hated it because I just could not make sense of it. The poem was Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats.

When I got home from school, I expressed my frustration to Mother. She went to the bookshelf and got a book called Out of the Best Books. She sat down and she invited me to join her. We read the poem together and she helped me form an image in my mind of what the Urn must have looked like. Even more important for me, she helped me to understand what the poet might have been trying to convey with the poem. She helped me see the two lovers on the side of the urn and the story of their unrequited love. Though their arms were extended to each other, they would never touch, never kiss, never be together.

After reading this poem, I read others like The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, and The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clark Moore. I read the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe, Shel Silverstein, William Shakespeare, Carolyn Pierce and other famous poets. I learned to enjoy the rhyme and rhythm. I enjoyed the meter and imagery. I enjoyed the challenge of trying to see what the poets must have seen or felt when they wrote the poems.

Since then, as I taught for a few years, I learned about haiku, limericks, couplets, and on and on.

I enjoy poetry for a lot of reasons. I believe the things I love the most about poetry are ambiguity and layered meanings. What one person gets out of a poem may not be what another gets. What I get from a poem today may not be what I get the next time I read it. I get a real kick out of cowboy poetry. It's humorous and has a definite beat to it. Reading poetry of someone you know can be a window into their soul, and writing poetry is an outlet for feelings that are hard to share any other way. I carry a copy of Bonnie's poem, In Tune with the Master in my wallet. I find it inspiring. Poetry will always be a part of my life.

Bloggin'

The kids are gone, from our empty house
So here I sit with laptop and mouse
Reading entries from many blogs
Trying to replace missing hugs
By writing thoughts about the past.

I've written about kids at school,
I've remembered recipes that made me drool.
I've shared pictues of yard and friends
I've written poetry that never ends.
I've tried to get my word in last.

Tonight, the screen is rather sparce.
I cannot share another farce
In hopes that someone will jot a line
To acknowledge some feeling of mine.
It's time to go and get some rest.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll find the way
To say the things I long to say.
Maybe time will help me see
Something I can share with thee
So in my heart you'll be a guest
As hearing from you I love best.

The silence is deafening

The week went too quickly for us. We enjoyed the visits this week from Andi and Ashleigh and from Brenda's family. We talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company. But all things eventually come to an end.

Andi was only here for a couple of hours last weekend. Her visit ended all too soon. She had to go home because Matthew, Luke, her animals were all at home alone.

Grandpa Wagner was here this morning to give the Bonnichsens a good send off as they head back to South Dakota. Through a veil of tears, we said our goodbyes to Brenda, Chloe and Aubrey. We waived as their well packed van turned the corner and out of sight.

I've been wearing a headset all week to shut out the sound of people coming and going. I discovered a new web site http://www.pandora.com/. It's an internet radio station where you can create your own collections of music you like. I've been listening to all of my favorite music: Country and Western, Broadway Musicals, Rock and Roll, and rock artists from the 60's and 70's. It helped me stay focused on my work. Today after everyone left, I removed the headset and turned the music off. It was so quiet that it is rather unsettling.

Brewster romped and played with the kids while they were here. This afternoon, he enjoyed a long quiet nap. We love our kids and really enjoy them when they visit.

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.

It Was Fun Camping

Here is Becky with the calves and Becky and Jason playing in the Assay Creek by where we went camping with Grandma Gatha. It was a nice

place to camp if you don't mind the traffic which we could hear going up and down the highway, but not near us, as well as the leftovers from the cows! We did have fun. Jason enjoyed fishing, even with no bait, and fishing with his Grandpa Don. There were no other campers around us when we set up camp but one when we left.

Camp out

A week ago I went with Don, Gloria, Jason and Becky, camping. We went to a place near Hatch. A river ran by our camp. I hadn't camped for many years. I really enjoyed the experience. Don and Gloria have good camp equipment. They have an eight man tent with good cots and sleeping bags. It was fun to be there with Jason and Becky.

Becky entertained a herd of young cows. They were interested in her and followed her to camp. She and Jason fed the chipmunks and a baby bird that just fell out of the nest was hopping on the ground. Becky was thrilled about it and followed it. It was nearly dark and we had to go back to camp, but the next morning, the bird was gone.

Jason went fishing with Don. Each of them caught 2 fish. They really tasted good. That was enjoyable.

Here is the story of my experience

HERE IS THE REST OF THE STORY:
I saw the other fishermen quitting to return to camp, so since he was fishing on the other side of the lake from where they met by the four wheelers, I decided to go meet with them. Igathered my fishing poles and equipment in hand then decided to walk back around the lake a little higher to meet the others so I would not have to tackle climbing over the thick dead fall around the lake, thinking it would be easier. After I had got away from the lake going up the hill a bit, I blacked out. Once I was back alert I became very disorientated knowing the trail and the lake were on my left hand side. I panicked and started walking (which was the opposite direction that I should of walked). It was around noon (the sun is straight over head), walking thru the very thick woods with lots of downfall. Then I realized that I was lost.

Scott and Elaum was looking at Frank’s catch for the morning and noticed me packing up thinking nothing of it and noting I was getting ready to walk back to the wheelers, where they were. Frank left. Soon about an hour, 45 minutes later. Scott and Elaum realized that I had not made it back yet. They started calling me and shot Scott’s 45 pistol Dillinger shooting 410 shot shell in the air hoping I would hear it and answer. Nothing…

I walked down off the rim which was close to the lake. There was no way of going back up for me after I got down. I realized later I turned west instead of east. I was now committed to make a plan. I said a prayer asking for help to be able to come up with a plan. I remembered what one of the lessons we taught in hunters safety class. I realized that he needed to S T O P**….which is part of the lesson taught. S - stop, T - think, O - orient, P - plan. I also remembered what Dad had taught me if he ever got lost in the woods -- to always walk downhill, which would lead to help, or water, where help would be. So now I had a plan and knew I was committed. I did have a lighter in my fishing back pack and a fishing pole, so if I needed to I could get food to survive.

I had not had anything to eat since breakfast. My food and more drink was at the wheeler. As I walked there was no turning around. once I was off the cliff there was no way Iwas able to climb up it…. I was committed. All I could think of was let those who were with me know that Iwas alright. I said a prayer asking that they know that I was alive and okay.

Whenever I got tired weak I would stop and take power naps and find a spring from which I felt was safe to drink. As I walked I came across several small springs where I was able to get water to drink at three or four locations. I had an empty pop can in my backpack. I untwisted it then used my snips made a cup to use to drink with. When it got dark I slept under the boughs of a pine tree.
I saw lots of wild life … a huge 6 point bull elk with a smaller one traveling with him; a hundred herd of deer with only a couple bucks. Once I was attacked by a Crouse when Igot close to her nest.

I did loose my new prescription glasses, my hat, and part of one of the fishing poles which I was carrying in my backpack. I must of laid my hat down, walked away before I realized it was missing. I must of lost my glasses when I fell thru a hole in a downed tree when the dirt gave way, I fell hard and my ‘chrome’ knee got bent under me stretching it, giving me a fright. I wasn’t about to go back into the thick downfall to find them once I discovered they were gone.

Once I got quite a distance I came across the road and decided to follow it, soon I recognized the area I was traveling in. It was very dark and I could not see far, thinking someone would eventually come by I traveled on the road so I wouldn‘t loose it. I decided to lay down in the road after midnight. Soon I heard a vehicle. A pickup came by I asked for help saying I was lost. About 12:56 am Casey Mulligan, along with a companion, called the cell phone number which Gloria had at camp leaving a message that he had picked me up and was taking me to Boulder. (However there was no reception so she didn’t get the message until after the deputy had arrived at camp about 6:00 am later that morning. ) Casey and his companion were out Geo-caching.

Casey had given me a ride to Boulder Town, where I bedded down on the lawn of the LDS Church with the firefighters until they could notify the Sherriff later that morning. The Firefighters gave me some food and water. Casey called the cell phone again after 1:00 pm and reported that I was in Boulder and was okay, a little dehydrated and was given food and water. The Sherriff was contacted and he said he knew about me since the search and rescue had contacted him. Afterwards the Sheriff picked me up and took me back to camp arriving between 6:00 and 6:30 am. It took a good hour to go on those dirt roads up and thru Hellsback Bone Canyon to where we were camped.

I just couldn't believe it would happen to me.

A fork in the road

As I travelled down the rugged road
My shoulders ached beneath the load.
The sun was setting, the light grew dim.
It would not be long til I returned to Him.

I came to a fork where I had to choose.
One way I'd win, and the other I'd lose.
The lane on the left to the past it led
And sign on right "to the future" read.

I knew the past with its familiar lies.
I feared the future with unknown skies.
I longed for the comfort of things I knew,
Yet I searched my heart for what to do.

The familiar path though the easiest
Would never take me to what I love best.
To the past, though familiar I yearned to go .
The future held the key if I'd let it show.

I turn my back on old lessons learned.
To the future I veer. Blessings I'll earn.
Toward family, peace, self respect and love.
I can do this, I know, with help from above.

The road to the right remains well lit,
But the lane to the left calls me a bit.
When I stop and consider the price of sin
I am determined to to endure. I know I can win.

Kent Vance

Good ol' Grandpa

I just wanted to tell those who are posting pictures of Grandpa, "Thank you." I miss seeing his face. It is wonderful to stare at those pictures and remember him. I have posted a few comments on Larry's santa and Kent's most recent one about my memories about Grandpa. One special experience I had when I was on my mission was: I had met a lady who had talked about how she talked to her Grandpa beyond the veil, he had visited her a few times. This sparked a desire to see Grandpa, so one day in one of my prayers for the night I asked Heavenly Father to tell Grandpa Vance that I was thinking of him. I did it one or two more times, then I had a dream. I saw Grandpa, it had been sooo long! He didn't talk to me but I felt his love. It was a special experience. I just want all of you to know I sure loved Grandpa, I wish my children could have gotten to know him, they would have loved his jokes. I still tell my children when they tell me they are thirsty out where there is no drink in sight, "I'll spit in your mouth for you." So continued to post pictures and tell me about my wonderful Grandpa.!

When I was a kid

Sundays were structured differently years ago. When we went to church, it was an all day affair. Priesthood and Sunday School were in the morning, then we went home for lunch. Sacrament Meeting was later in the afternoon. Meetings like Primary, Mutual, and Relief Society were held on a different day of the week. I remember one Sunday, Grandpa Dunn passed out in sacrament meeting. All of his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren got up and left with him. It was quite a crowd.

Occasionally on Sunday, we would go and visit relatives. One of those visits was to my Aunt Betty's house. Dad and Uncle Harold would hunt and fish together. Harold always had new equipment but their home was very modest. It had concrete floors with no covering. You entered the house through the kitchen and there were two bedrooms. The master bedroom and the kid's' bedroom. The living room was a long narrow room that doubled as a bedroom. I think it was there that I was exposed to our first television programming. We would watch the Loretta Young Show, The Grey Ghost, The invisible man, and when the test pattern came up, it was time for us to go home.

Some Sundays, we loaded up the car and headed for the mountains. Sometimes we went fishing. Sometimes we went for a pic nic, sometimes, we just went riding. We would sing songs and play games. Found a Peanut was a regular and so was Old McDougal's Ford.

Dad loved pulling pranks on us as children. He told us to watch for the Indian, Falling Rocks, and would point out the signs that warn to watch for falling rocks. He also told us that there was a rock in the Conejos River that had ice on it all year long. Actually the rock had an advertisement for block ice painted on it. Environmentalists have since pushed to have the paint removed from the rock.

Sunday Dinners were also an important tradition. When Mom cut up a chicken, we each had our "assigned" pieces. We each had assigned seats. Dad was at the head and Mom at the other end of the table. We always began with a blessing on the food. Once in a while, Dad would ask the blessing, "Over the teeth and through the gums. Look out stomach here it comes!". All of us but Mom found it amusing. We laughed and talked and enjoyed each other's company.

Those times we spent together made us strong as a family. We bonded, and we learned about each other.

I still enjoy Sundays. They are a time for worship and prepare for the coming week. I really miss the family activities. We are so far from each other.

Grandpa Bingham--62 years ago

Today is the 62nd anniversary of the day my dad died. It is really hard for me to even think of that time. In June Arlo and I drove him to Alamosa to enter the hospital as he was having surgery the next morning to repair a hernia.

We went to Ruth and Bill's and had supper and then went to a movie. He had the surgery and there were complications. He had pains from adhesions from a former surgery. They operated to remove the scars, but that was not successful either. He developed a bowel obstruction and it progressed to the point that it burst.

The day he died, Keith sent a telegram that he had been released from the Navy and was on his way home. We tried to find him, but were not successful. Some of the aunts and uncles met every bus and train that came into Alamosa. He was home in time to go to the funeral.

We no longer had a home and Keith wanted to buy back the farm and take the four (Leon, Barbara, LaRue and Doris Faye), to raise them. He didn''t have the means to do that. After the funeral, Leon went to Farmington, New Mexico, Barbara went with Ethel and Don, to California, LaRue stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Dunn. Doris Faye went home with Arlo and me. Keith went to Los Alamos, New Mexico and lived with his friend Bud Richarson. He found work and remained there to marry Erma Rae and to raise his family.

The years go by, but the facts don't change that there was no place to go home again. After a year Leon went to Grandma and Grandpa Dunn's home. After 6 years Doris Faye also went to Grandma and Grandpa's home. Barbara was the last one to go to Grandma and Grandpa's home. All of them graduated from Manassa High School. I will forever be thankful to Grandma and Grandpa Dunn. They were a great blessing to us.

Santa

I remember when I was young that my father had a bright red beard and that Boyd Pagett had a dark beard. Dad worked for Boyd at Conejos County Gas and Oil. That bright red beard faded a bit as the years progressed. He shaved the beard for several years.



And then later he decided that the beard would come back. It seems that everything drifted from the top of his head to the bottom.



Arlo did enjoy acting the part of Santa. The children of the area would come into Conejos County Gas and Oil and whisper to each other and point at Arlo. They were discussing whether he was the "real" Santa.



It was natural for the younger generation to hop on pop. He did enjoy children on his lap. He loved to have them come and say that he was Santa.