Mom and we four children remained in Salt Lake City, living with Grandma Howells, now widowed, in her West Temple home, from March 1945 to March 1946. To be sure, it was a new and exciting experience for us children—new friends, new schools, new adventures. It was probably pleasant in a way for Mom, too, being able to relive the home, ward, and neighborhood of her youth.
But, being away from her husband for many long months, coping alone with us children—despite regular phone calls, letters, and an occasional visit from Dad—could not have been easy. Nonetheless, wartime demands required it thus. Furthermore, neither she nor Grandma drove a car at this time. Accordingly, we would have been dependent on public conveyances, or others, for transportation.
During this family separation period, from a gasoline rationing record (gasoline, along with other necessary war items, was rationed during the duration) we learn that Dad made at least one trip to Salt Lake City, in March 1945, in the 1937/38 Lincoln 12 limousine, purchased earlier in Southern California, perhaps initially transporting us to Grandma Howells’ residence. Moreover, from the same record, it is noted that he apparently resided at 519 Popular, San Mateo, California. 67
With the end of the war and the easing of building restrictions, our new home was being constructed as one of the first postwar homes built by the San Mateo Construction Company. We returned back to Northern California in the spring of l946 by train with Mom, [one of] the first such trip[s] for us children. We had a compartment in one of the Pullman cars, and entertained ourselves on the way playing Old Maid and Pit. It was also a surprise for us to see snow on the ground in the Nevada desert. What a thrill it was to see the new house. It had been built in the hills at the south end of San Mateo. [318 41st Avenue] There were scarcely any other homes in the area at the time, and so we were situated on top of a hill with only about four other dwellings around us. Drew and I had our own bedroom downstairs with an adjoining bathroom. In addition downstairs, there were a large family room, wash room and tool shop. Upstairs were two more bedrooms, [a study], another bathroom, the dining room, living room, kitchen, walkout veranda, and a two car garage. The back yard sloped gently down, approximately seventy-five feet, to a row of giant eucalyptus trees. Beyond that were a large horse pasture, and a large grove of eucalyptus trees several hundred feet further down. In any direction were more hills, oak trees, creeks, and miles and miles of unexplored country–a paradise for inquisitive youngsters. Occasionally, deer would come down in the early morning hours onto our newly planted front lawn. To the west was a large, Chinese owned, chrysanthemum flower growing farm. The hills were full of jackrabbits and quail, and we went wild with our BB and pellet guns. In the row of eucalyptus trees along the back property line, we built our ultimate tree house, which developed into a three story project with secret entrance and ladder. On occasion, we even slept up there in our sleeping bags. At first, building supplies were obtained by scrounging scrap material from the various new home construction projects. However, eventually the friendly builder, who seemed to take an enthusiastic interest in our project, perhaps concluding that it was better to give us supplies than to worry about damage to the new homes, besides donating scrap wood, even kindly volunteered tar paper and nails when we needed them. Moreover, with Dad’s help, at the conclusion of our ambitious project, from a high limb in one of the eucalyptus trees which towered at least forty feet or more in the air, we tied a long, stout rope to make a Tarzan swing. Our back yard was in two levels, with an old rock wall and lawn above. On the lower level, we had an archery practice shooting range, and a horseshoe pit. But in addition, we children had envisioned a family swimming pool. And so, after we moved into the new home, early on, we began imploring Dad and Mom to have one built–even offering to dig the hole by ourselves. 68
Mom must have been delighted with the new dwelling. She had been married now for seventeen years, and this would be the first time they had owned their home. They eagerly set to work decorating and furnishing both upstairs and down inside the house, as well as outside, and fashioned a lovely abode.
Several years later, the long hoped for swimming pool also came into existence, along with an ample bath house and barbecue area. We constructed the latter two additions ourselves. These new backyard attractions brought us all a lot of pleasure and joy…and hot-weather friends. In addition, Mom had vegetable, vine, and flower grow-boxes on the northeast side of the backyard, plus an extensive garden of prize rose bushes in front of the house. Hence, she was able to utilize her green thumb to her hearts content—and we had some regular weeding, irrigation, and yard-maintenance opportunities, in earning our weekly allowances. Later on, Dad also hired Drew and me to saw and chop up wood from the large, felled eucalyptus trees along the back property line. He also allowed us to peddle the results of our efforts around the neighborhood and to pocket the proceeds.
Concerning these outside yard activities, there is one other episode which occurred early on in our move to San Mateo that certainly caused Mom great concern. While rototilling the wet, grassy slope in the backyard, before the upper stone retaining wall was built, Dad’s right foot slipped under the machine, and his pant leg got caught in the blades. The sharp metal tines then ran up his right leg, becoming deeply embedded. The last tine caught in his leather belt, which thankfully shut down the rotation. Our next door neighbor, Vern Dodson, an engineer, heard Dad’s cry for help, and along with Diane, who was helping him mow his back yard, climbed over the redwood stake fence, turned off the motor, and summoned the ambulance. Dad was rushed to the nearby San Mateo Community Hospital, where initially it was thought that he would require a below the knee amputation. This he refused. Fortunately some able surgeons were on duty, and delicate, complicated, multi-hour-long surgery was then performed. We were told that extensive nerve and vessel repairs were needed, requiring hundreds and hundreds of sutures.
Dad was laid up for six weeks and used a cane for a year thereafter. But, coupled with a comforting priesthood blessing, he enjoyed an amazing recovery. He never limped thereafter, and as far as I know suffered no undue pain. Nonetheless, the leg did swell from time to time, probably due to some residual low grade bone infection. Indeed, three and a half decades later while Barbara and I were visiting him and ArLene, during their mission in Israel, he had an untoward flare up requiring antibiotic treatment. 69
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Each family member had their own assigned chores, and Saturday mornings were a whiz. We had the house and yard ship-shape by noon every week. We usually had our favorite pancake breakfast for a work break. Drew and I were responsible for vacuuming and cleaning the downstairs once per week, along with keeping our bedroom and bathroom neat and tidy on a daily basis. Additionally, upstairs, on hands and knees, I had the job of scrubbing the kitchen floor every week or so. All of these little tasks didn’t add up to a great deal, I suppose, but like most young people we probably thought that we were quite put upon. Nevertheless, Mom and Dad consistently tried to teach us about work and responsibility.
The teaching of responsibility also flowed over into music, since they felt strongly that we should each learn to play a musical instrument. The twins were too young at the time, but Drew had taken up the violin, and I the piano. When we were younger, it was a bit more appealing. But, as we got older, and other interests captured our attention, it became more of a burden. Nevertheless, in agreement with our music teachers, Mom felt that our practicing for one hour each day was about right. I can recall desperately wanting to be finished at certain times, as outside sports and activities beckoned—perhaps even nudging the clock ahead a bit—and saying: Mom, I’m done! But her quick rejoinder was: You’re done for, young man, unless you get back in there! Finally an understanding was reached when I became a junior in high school, and the piano lessons were terminated. Still, I’m grateful for the musical background and skills I acquired, regardless of how small they are.
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In addition to musical appreciation and skills honed through daily practice, family home evenings, concerts, recitals, and participation, we enjoyed other entertainment, too:
A note about home entertainment is in order at this point. Children's radio programs were extremely popular. The stories were very exciting, and as one listened intently, his imagination could wander limitlessly, without confinement by a visual image as is projected by television, for example. We actually looked forward to washing and drying the dishes each Tuesday night at 7:00 PM, because that was the time for the Lone Ranger. Afternoon favorites included Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy, Captain Midnight, (we sent away for his secret decoder badge), Terry and the Pirates, Superman, Hop Harrigan, Tom Mix, Sky King, and others. On weekends, we heard Lets Pretend, Jack Benny, and The Phil Harris, Alice Faye Show. There wasn't a kid on the block who ever wanted to miss these radio programs, as their content was often the subject for school conversation the next day. Saturday afternoon movie matinees were also an occasional treat. Besides a patriotic movie or lively musical, we could always count on the continuing adventures of some special childhood hero like Flash Gordon or Gene Autry in serial form. All movies in those days, it seemed, were G-rated and suitable for everyone to view. I also remember when the new magic medium of television first appeared. We were one of the first families in the neighborhood to get our own TV, a super six inch screen, black and white. At first, there was no definite programming, just travelogues and nature films. But what an amazing thing it was to have a live movie in your own home! Later on, special favorites such as Texaco Hour with Milton Berle, and Show of Shows with Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca began to appear. Television, even though it started out slowly, certainly changed our lives.70
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Mom’s and Dad’s circle of friends expanded greatly while they lived in the San Francisco Bay area for the next nearly thirty years. As always, they were outgoing, met people well, and enjoyed good company. Certainly, the bulk of their associations were within the Church framework, but they were otherwise active in Dad’s business and in some civic affairs, as well.
One of the enjoyable social groups that they helped to establish on the Peninsula was the Debonairs, a dance group which met quarterly, alternating between the Stanford University Garden Court and the Peninsula Country Club. Each of the gala affairs was a formal dress dance featuring a live orchestra, and included refreshments, corsages, and elaborate decorations. They, especially Mom, eagerly looked forward to regularly participating.
Some of the friends from the San Mateo/Hillsborough and the Atherton/Palo Alto areas with whom Mom and Dad shared this pleasant outlet were Lou and Peg Cresta, Bill and Faye Stoker, Ray and Dorothy Nelson, Larry and Cora Burmester, Paul and Velda Fife, Frank and Clora Martin, Gordon and Marcella Ashby, Keith and Marilyn Garner, David and Ruby Haight, Gene and Ruth Kimball, Bill and Jeanette Osmond, Claude and Agnes Lindsey, Ray and Mildred Lindsey, Von and LaVon Croxford (later Charlie and LaVon Pollei), Chatley and Shirley McMurdie, Sid and Francis Badger, David and Elizabeth Hamilton, Ralph and Dorothy Chapin, Wes and Nell Benson. There were about a score of them. 71
They also helped found a fun dinner group, the Merry Go Round Club which met monthly for dinner or overnight outings at one another’s homes or properties. Besides Mom and Dad, there were five other participating couples: the Ray Lindseys, the Claude Lindseys, the Crestas, the Badgers, and the Osmonds.
Another very agreeable, regular outlet for Mom was the Merry Magpie group, of which she was also a co-founder. This was a group of twelve women from the Church, who met together monthly, alternating the location at each others homes in a rotational manner. They evidently met on a Wednesday for two or three hours, from noon until about 3: 00 PM, and enjoyed luncheon/dessert followed by sewing, quilting and talking.
This association, antedating the regular current day, extracurricular activities of Relief Society as it did, was a wonderful outlet for these stalwart pioneering sisters of the Church on the San Francisco Bay Peninsula. Included in this group were some of Mom’s closest friends: Peg Cresta, Jeanette Osmond, Clora Martin, Velda Fife, ArLene Hatch Jones, LaVon Croxford, Ruth Kimball, Shirley McMurdie, Cora Burmester, Dorothy Nelson, and Dorothy Chapin. 72
There were other activities for both families and couples—movies, plays, picnics, dinners, occasional day or weekend get-away outings—on a more frequent basis with some of these friends, too. Before I left for college, and later a mission, I fondly remember picnics and dinners with the Osmond’s and family stay over times at the Cresta Brothers Ranch, in Santa Rosa. Moreover, I remember family days in San Francisco (movies, plays, shopping, and not infrequent dinners at the Tonga Room of the Fairmont Hotel) and outings at the San Mateo Memorial Park. I also have indelible memories of our yearly summer trips to Utah and various national parks (Yellowstone, Teton, Glacier, and Yosemite), plus a family motorcar tour of the Pacific Northwest, along the Columbia River Highway, nearly to the Canadian border, designed to acquaint us with new places.
Regarding this latter trip, I know that Mom and Dad were quite disappointed with us children. Obviously, they had gone to a lot of work, expense and planning in trying to introduce us to new vistas. Thus, for example, as we would approach a new site and it would be pointed out, our noses were usually deep in a book or game and we failed to grasp the significance of what was being shown to us. Not unexpectedly, that was the only extended motorcar trip that I can ever recall the family taking. Our modus operandi thus became: reach a destination and then get out and be actively, physically engaged.
Concerning the Church on the San Francisco Bay Peninsula, at the time of our arrival in 1944, the stake extended all the way from San Francisco to San Jose. And as far as a local meeting place in San Mateo was concerned, there were several. I can recall some early Mutual activities being held at the Burlingame Women’s Club. However, most of the Sunday meetings took place at the Masonic Temple, situated above a new car showroom, in Burlingame—until about 1947, when the local congregation determined to erect a new building on property purchased at Alameda de Las Pulgas and about 36th Avenue, just down the hill from our house in San Mateo.
With the ending of the war and an oversupply of unneeded supplies and infrastructure in the military, governmental agencies gave the Church permission to obtain all of the materials—wood, nails, pipes, wires, etcetera—free of charge, from the base chapel at Camp Shoemaker, in Hayward, just north of us, on the other side of the bay across the San Mateo Bridge, if we would simply dismantle the building. What a wonderful financial leg up for the San Mateo Ward this was, since member “sweat labor” was accepted in lieu of cash donations by the Church at the time! Thus, tens of thousands of dollars worth of expensive, difficult to come by materials were ours simply for the taking—after the dismantling, of course.
So, over the next many months, weekly crews of determined members regularly made their way across the bay to dismantle the chapel, load the salvaged material onto trailers and pickup trucks, and transport the sundry items back to the ward building site in San Mateo. Additional activities on both sides of the bay included removing nails from boards and planks, straightening nails, and loading and unloading the transport vehicles. This was work that children, teens and adults could each participate in, and we all did. Moreover, it was a project that created a real esprit de corps among the members. In fact, a number of the less active folks were activated through their involvement.
After the building was finally erected, again with the additional “sweat labor” help of ward members, and the final cash was being raised in order to reach a debt free status thus allowing dedication to take place, some interesting happenings occurred. This transpired after I had already left for college at the BYU, in 1949. ArLene Hatch (Jones), whom Dad married after Mom’s death, tells of selling Christmas cards with another ward member and raising five hundred dollars. Additionally, she and her Young Women’s Presidency were in charge of a huge turkey dinner at the ward, during which time a sum totaling over fifteen hundred dollars was raised. Merv Griffin and a small group provided the entertainment, through the good graces of Bishop Bill Stoker, Merv’s vocal coach. Mom was one of three cooks for the dinner that prepared the turkey and dressing in advance, at home. 73
And, speaking of Mom’s cooking prowess let it be here recorded that she was a wonderful cook. She evidently enjoyed the culinary arts, too, and prepared choice fare. Some of the special dishes that I remember were roast beef, pork chops, meat loaf, creamed-cheese-stuffed prunes with walnuts salad, crisp apple pie, pumpkin chiffon pie, “eggless/milkless” cake, dinner rolls, raisin rolls, and oatmeal cookies. She liked to make homemade ice cream, and her delicious iced grapefruit/pineapple slush entrée was a real winner, too. In addition, she also did well with sewing and dress making, as I recall.
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As has already been implied, these San Mateo years, up until the time that they became “empty nesters” after all of us children had married and left home, were pivotal years for Mom and Dad. Consequently, in order to try and better understand the dynamics of the period, I am going to approach some of the ensuing events in subject order, rather than strictly chronologically.
Accordingly, we’ll now look at the following categories: Dad’s business and Church obligations, Mom’s health issues, Mom’s Church participation, Mom’s feelings of unfulfilled potential, challenges in raising the children, and interpersonal disagreements.
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