I write these memories not in the order of their happening, but just as I think of them.
One thing I can think of is that as long as I knew Grandpa, he had no hair on top of his head. He had a lump about as big around as a nickel. It bothered me, so one day he let me touch it. It was soft, but just like the rest of his head. He claimed it was a reminder to be jolly and happy.
Grandpa rented land up in Utida near Weston, Idaho. They raised alfalfa hay. When they harvested it they would stack it in stacks about 40 x 60 x 35 feet high. They would measure the number of tons in each stack by measurements. The width times the length times the height and divide by some number and that would give you the tons. Grandpa had very little schooling, but could figure the tons with accuracy. The landlord trusted Grandpa and never doubted his figures.
In the wintertime when the snow came, at family gatherings, we would all bring our flexible flyers (sleighs), barrel staves, toboggans and ride down the hills, Grandpa in the lead. Also at family gatherings he would enjoy playing cards: hearts, high five, rook and pinochle to name a few. He nearly always won and I can still hear his joyous, hearty laugh. He would put small children on his knee and bounce them up and down and hum a memorable tune – a diddle dum, a diddle dee. He also would tickle us in our ribs, knees and under our arms and we would laugh until we would wet our pants.
Grandpa loved homemade ice cream and would eat it so fast he’d get a headache and accept seconds when offered. Grandpa was adept at slaughtering pigs. He’d gather male family members around to help clearing 1 x 10 x 8 foot lumber for saw horses. With several kettles of scalding hot water and razor sharp butcher knife, they would butcher six to ten pigs in an afternoon. The hair was removed by pouring scalding hot water and then scraping the skin. He had a smoke house where he used to cure the meat by putting fire in the bottom of the smoke house, hang the meat down from the ceiling and as the smoke went up it would flavor the meat. He also used salt brine in wooden barrels to cure the meat.
Grandpa used to flood irrigate most of his crops. He did most of it himself, hardly ever rode a horse. He made little paths where he walked to and fro. I tried to follow him one day and soon became weary and took a nap along side the path. He knew exactly how to regulate the water to cover as much ground as possible and efficiently use his share of water.
Grandpa was honest and truthful. He once sold a fine team of horses at a fair price. The horses were kept in stalls at the county fair. Another man came along and offered him considerably more money, but he refused saying he had agreed to sell at the original price and would not go back on his word.
Grandpa loved fishing and often found himself fishing on the Bear River with family and friends. He and his family members made trips to Yellowstone Park, in an old touring automobile. They had to take their own tents and bedding. There were no cabins at the park in those days. I can still hear them talking about meals cooked on campfires and the fish they had caught to eat.
I can remember when he was superintendent of the Sunday school in the old Cornish ward chapel. He filled a mission to England when his family was younger. I relished hearing of his experiences how he got seasick on his journey across the great waters.
They also had great fun playing horseshoes in the yard. Sometimes they had three games going at once.
Grandpa was noted for his garden with raspberries, apples, rhubarb, etc. He always tried to have fresh peas and new potatoes by the fourth of July. He nearly always brought Grandma a bouquet of wild flowers. He was extra kind and loving to her at all times.
This isn’t very much to write about for such a nice man who did so much during his life time.
His adoring grandson,
Verden Milton Boman
(Pictures of John William Pitcher and Mary Clarissa Thornley, possession of Rebecca Walker)
Recent Comments