Little Things with a Great Impact

                                                   

Jami and Dad

From Juel:

Sorry if this one is preachy, but it needs recorded somewhere, so I guess this is a good a place as any. 

Kammy was sick and needed some medicine from Tremonton one morning.  So, before daylight Jami and I headed out in the van.  We made it as far as the rest area and the van started giving us troubles.  Let’s see, Jami was only _?_ years old at the time.  We did manage to get the van to the other side of the freeway (headed home side) before it died completely.  Upon discussing our options (If I remember right it was cold outside), we decided this would be a good time to pray, we needed help!  Well, we prayed.  I knew the next car by would stop.  Not faith.  Knowledge.  Just knew it.  I think I told Jami, but not 100% for certain that the next car by would stop. Anyway, we prayed and as we were praying a truck went whizzing by about 55 mph rocking the van, my heart just dropped.  As we ended our prayer and I looked up, there was a Cadillac backing up towards us. When it passed, I have no idea, but it was a female trucker on her day off, smoking a stogie, who was open to revelation from our Father in Heaven.  And she gave us the much needed lift back home.  The Lord truly does watch after his sparrows.

Jami’s Recollections:

I don’t remember it being cold, but I do remember it was overcast (not sure if it was rainy or cold or just stinking early!).  It was a Monday morning, and we were headed to Tremonton for some much needed de-lice-ing supplies… so yes, Kammy was sick, sick of kids passing lice back and forth, sick of combing through 3 wiggly little girls’ long hair with a tiny comb, sick of endless (more than usual) piles of laundry, sick of bagging up belongings… you get the idea. 

I remember the van breaking down (seems like that was not too unusual at this time).  But we needed help for sure!  I did not want to hoof it back home!  Dad did not tell me he knew the next car would stop until after the ordeal was over.  The gal was very nice and offered to take us all the way home, but weather was such that we just had her stop on the interstate and drop us off next to the dirt road that led to the barn, we hopped out, climbed the fence and walked back to the house… don’t remember what we did, but somehow we got the supplies we needed and eventually got rid of the crazy lice.  And I did learn much about the power of prayer through this experience and also how good people are.  There are good people of every race and religion and the Lord is able to work miracles through these good people.  And I must have been about 11 or 12 Dad.

A funny little side story (at least I think so) from Jami:

                      Kristen and Jami

Haha... I remember during this whole lice ordeal mom asking if she could cut my hair.  What was she crazy?!?  No she couldn't cut my hair.  So being the amazing mom she is, she patiently combed through my thick long hair with that insanely fine toothed comb day after day.  Several weeks later Kristen and I were rolling bales in what felt like 200 degree weather, during the day we decided we would need to cut our hair if we were to continue our Summer employment.  My mom was gone, so we called Diana to see if she would cut our hair for us.  She agreed and the hair that went to my mid-back was cut to just below the chin. When I got home my mom was so upset with me.  It's my hair!!!  I always thought she was upset that I cut off my beautiful long hair, it wasn't until years later we were discussing it that I realized she was upset because she spent all that time saving my hair from the lice and then I showed my thanks by chopping it off.  Oops!  Sorry mom!  

Pepe Le Pew Part Two

From Kammy:

Sorry, but keeping a journal has never been one of my strengths, much to my regret when I try to come up with names, dates and details.  Anyway, one morning when Levi was a Junior or Senior, the dog was making a fuss by the cars when he headed out to do chores before school.  When Levi jumped in his car later to head to tech, it smelt like skunk and we figured the dog had been warning one off the property.   We just hoped the dog didn’t get sprayed in the process.

Surprisingly, the aroma still lingered when I got in our car to head into town later that morning.  I thought maybe a tire or something had caught part of the skunk’s retaliation.  The smell got worse as I headed down the hill.  I tried opening the window and ventilating, but it didn’t help.  Something wasn’t right.  Stopping at the barn, I jumped out and lifted the hood to check for a dead skunk.

Nope, not dead, two paws and then the little critter’s head popped out from behind the engine block.  "Whoa boy!  Stay!"  I can assure you it didn’t take me long to close the hood and head into the barn for Juel’s help.  Yes, I think I was half in shock, I know I was pretty shaky and not very coherent when I tried to explain the situation to Juel.   Tony, pulled up in his truck just as we came out of the barn ("oops, sorry I’m in the way guy, but I am NOT getting back into that car to move it!")  Juel lifted the hood, sure enough, it wasn’t just my imagination.  The little beast stared back at us, his beady little eyes were issuing a challenge.    Juel used a broken shovel handle and nudged the guy, trying to get him to leave on his own steam.   No luck, he was sticking to his make-shift fox hole.   Ross had shown up by this time and joined Juel and Tony in trying to come up with the best removal solution for our adversary .  Tony volunteered the pistol stashed in his cab; but since bullets and engines don’t mix, the idea was put on the back burner.   Juel kept mentioning he had heard skunks couldn’t spray if you picked them up by the tail and kept their hind legs off the ground.  I think he was seeking reassurance from his fellowmen, but none came.  Finally, they decided to go ahead and test the theory.   Juel would pick the skunk up by the tail (still can’t decide if he was brave or just stupid! But, hey, he was coming to my rescue so ya got to give him points either way) then throw him towards the ditch; then Tony, who had retrieved said pistol, would “take him out.”  It was a shoot-out at high noon!  (Hopefully,with the humans being the only ones shooting!)

Juel took a step forward and the rest of us took a step back.  We all held our breath as he reached in and grabbed PePe’ le Pew’s tail and pulled his resisting body from the trenches.  Mission accomplished!  Well, at least he was out of the car, but now he was dangling from Juel’s outstretched arm and he wasn't pleased; but, thankfully, he was still “keeping it together!”   Juel walked over and tossed the skunk into the weeds.    I think he was a little dazed after his ordeal; because he just kind of scrunched himself together and stood there.  (The skunk, not Juel. . .well, come to think of it Juel was a little dazed, too.) 

Anyway, now it was “dead eye dick’s (aka Tony’s) turn; he raised his pistol, took careful aim, squeezed the trigger and. . .missed!   You’d think that would have had the little varmint running for his life;  but no,  he cowered in place as our gunslinger lined up his sights again, shot  and . . .missed again!   Just goes to show that ten paces doesn’t necessarily mean you’re  gonna get your. . .skunk.   Wish I could say the third time was the charm.   (And you always thought those shooting galleries at the carnival were rigged.)   I honestly can’t remember if the skunk was shot or the poor little guy finally came to his senses and slunk into the ditch (the skunk, not Tony,) but Juel tells me Tony finally prevailed.  With the excitement over and Tony suitably embarrassed, I climbed into my car and headed to Burley with a smile on my face. . .and the windows down!!!

*Tony  was hauling some of our hay.

Happy Mother's Day Juniper!

They say it takes a village to raise a child, I am so glad my village was Juniper.  A village where people care about people, and people help people.  Juniper has played a vital role in my upbringing.  Today I want to pay special tribute to the Juniper moms. 

You have cooked for me.  You have let me stay in your homes.  You have sent sandwiches to the field.  You have cheered me on.  You have fought for me.  You have been my 4-H leaders.  You have coordinated community get-togethers.  You have been my primary teachers.  You have cut my hair.  You have shared hand-me-downs.  You have taught me the piano.  You have shared from your fruit trees and gardens.  You have shared goodies.  You have opened your home to me on occasions when snow would not permit me to get to my own.  You have lent baking supplies.  You have taught me various crafts.  You have taught me to work.  You have come without question when I called with a concern when my mom was away from home.  You have showed me how to serve, and allowed me to serve by your side.  You have shared stories and experiences with me.    You have shared your talents.  You have shared your kids.  You have rallied around my family on multiple occasions when we needed a helping hand. 

For this and many other services I am forever in your debt.  Thank you and Happy Mother’s Day Juniper!

Did Anyone Bring Hotdogs?!?

After posting the last tale about being scared of what might be lurking in the dark, I had a few conversations with the siblings about what exactly we were afraid of in Juniper.  I was afraid of things jumping out at me, Crystal and Jason were scared of kidnappers, and I know Utahna and I were both afraid of robbers.  Looking back, the most frightening thing should have been a rock or hole in our path in the dark or maybe an unwanted visit from a creature.  Utahna and I held hands to comfort each other, apparently Crystal sang loud and bad to ward off potential kidnappers, Jason reports carrying a stick whenever forced to go out in the dark.  However, if there is one thing Juniper-ites should have a healthy fear of, it is fire, specifically fire in the summer… one spark ignites and it spreads like… well, you know.  Here is just such a story.  Enjoy!

             Black Pine ablaze in 2000

From Juel:

I remember trying to burn some goat grass down on the sandy corner of the Butler field one day, (actually it was a very pleasant cool morning, about the 1^st of June), close to the freeway fence.  A passerby stopped, was lost and asking for directions; so, instead of being rude, telling him “I am too busy right now”, I tried to help him out.  Well, while my back was turned a bit of my fire got into the fence and the freeway borrow pit and started heading north through the June grass.  I was all alone, no cell phone—actually, in those days we called them blankets for smoke signals.  I had ½ the smoke just not the blanket to dial the right number.  Anyway, back to my story.  I was praying, literally, and working feverously to stop that fire and I would almost get it with my shovel and a little gust of wind would come up and push it past me again.  Over and over this would happen.  Finally, I gave up on that idea, drove fast as I could back to the dairy, got the Massey with the loader, headed back towards the fire down the freeway and was able to use the tractor bucket to put the fire out.  About that time, Craig Rushton showed up with his sprayer and put the manure out which was smoldering on my tractor.  Thank you Craig.  And shortly thereafter a BLM official pulled up and told me he would not bill me for the fire since I put it out, really nice guy, had a good chat.  It was a very exciting day for me, one I hope never to have to relive.  Don’t like working that hard with the heart bruising the inside of my chest!

Sissies

From Utahna:

The earliest thing I remember (besides running from deadly roosters--do you guys remember those?!?) was when  Jami and I were in charge of feeding the pigs.  It was not uncommon for dad to come in after dark and ask if we had fed the pigs.  A few,  OK, lots of times we had to answer  "no".  So, we would have to go feed the pigs in the dark.  No, it couldn't wait 'til morning because that was our responsibility to feed them every day.  We got to eat today and the pigs needed food too.  So Jami and I would walk hand in hand shaking from fear of the dark (at least mine was) to feed the pigs.  That was a long walk too I assure you. But you better believe we didn't forget to feed our pigs again... for a while... you know at least a day or two :) No, I really am grateful for this simple lesson taught at a young age of being dependable.  The other lesson learned is sisters are always there for you!

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I only remember being sent out to feed the pigs after dark once, it was quite frightening.  It was dark and there was just enough of a breeze to make the extension piece wired to the auger make an eerie squeaking noise... you know the noise that interrupts the silence right before the bad guy jumps out in a horror flick?!?  I remember holding hands as well (let's not figure out how old we might have been).  And the shaking... a mix of fear and anger. I'm sure Dad took some undeserved verbal hits that night.  But I too am grateful for the lesson I was taught this night (and apparently on other occasions this is just the one that stuck in my mind) to be dependable and do the job you agreed to do.  And I am SOOOO grateful for Utahna.  Once we decided we didn't want to kill each other I had the best, most loyal friend for life a girl could ever ask for.  Love you sis!

And yes, yes, I remember running from deadly roosters!  It was the only way to get to Kristen and Catie's!

Did You Hear the Joke About the Skunk?

Never mind, it stinks...

                           Ross


From Kammy:

One night the kids and I returned home after dark from a trip to town.  Levi was in charge of the chickens and I pulled into the lower lot so my car lights would shine towards the coop; giving him enough light to feed them and gather the eggs.   He opened the door and entered; when he exited a few seconds later he had a stunned look on his face.   I guess three skunks in a 5’ by 5’ coop rattles you just a little bit.  Well, as most of you probably know chickens and skunks do not cohabitate in a friendly manner.   This would usually be where Juel stepped up to the plate, but he was in Malta taking care of some church responsibilities.   With no husband and no gun, I turned to Ross, he graciously grabbed his 22 and came to our aid.

Ross headed to the coop to check things out, Levi as his assistant.  I bravely held the gun at the far end of the coop.  Ross popped back out to get the gun, confirming Levi’s report of three skunks.  Levi stayed at his post, albeit with lots of disgusting noises.   Returning, Ross took position and shot the first intruder.  Levi was carrying on rather loudly about the situation and the skunk.   From my well- ventilated corner,  I was trying to talk him down and said something to the effect of, “Levi, calm down, it’s not that bad!”  Ross came walking out and looked at me with tears running down his face and said, “OH, YES IT IS!”  

I can’t remember how the rest of the culprits where dealt with, seems like maybe Ross took out one more and the third dirty little cheese ball escaped,  but the images and sounds of that moment are branded on my memory.   Taking into account the situation, I managed not to laugh that night, but every time I relate the incident and my memory pulls up the image of Ross’s face and the pitch of his wretched rejoinder, the laughter can’t be contained.     

 Anyway, with the skunks gone the surviving chickens (No, not me, the feathered ones) and the mighty hunters could call it and night and go to bed. . .well, maybe after a shower!

 P.S.  Thanks Ross for coming to our rescue on this and other occasions, and for supporting Juel in his callings.

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Surely a good skunk story brings a memory to your mind... send it my way!  jami_c_hurst@hotmail.com