Mom - by Tia

I love my mother because she taught me about sacrifice and service. She set the example by always working so hard, and always giving everything she had for our family. I remember a time when she worked the 3:00 am - 8:00 am shift at Albertsons to help our family financially. She didn't come home and spend the rest of the day in bed either - as I would be tempted to do. She came home and raised 9 kids and ran our household. She is truly of pioneer stock.


I spent a lot of time in high school being embarrased by what she wore, or what she didn't wear. It wasn't until I realized that every last penny my parents made went to their children - the athletics and activities they were involved in, the dance lessons and competitions - that I came to appreciate her sense of fashion. There wasn't money left over to worry about fashion and style. There wasn't time in the day after raising nine kids and working to worry about facials and pedicures. She could have thrown in the towel and said, "No more. I want more for me." but she never did, she gave and gave and still gives and gives. Because she has always been the giver, I sometimes forget that she is her own person, with her own passions and interests. I forget to engage those things about her and talk to her about the things she loves to do. She is always too quick to ask about me and what I'm involved in for the conversation to turn to herself.

Another thing I admire about my mother is that she gave me independence and encouraged me to become my own person. I had different interests than most of my siblings, and that didn't deter her support. She came to my dance performances, sewed costumes, paid for $120 dance shoes, and sat there round after round at my competitions. It wasn't her passion, but you would have never known it by her support of me being involved in it.

I love my mother and am so thankful she has taught me and trained me. I don't know how she did it with what she was up against, but she did an amazing job.
 
I originally posted this on Megan Williams' blog the week before Mother's Day, but I think it is appropriate to post here as well.

Theodosia Bassett Keyes - by Tia

What a life she had! Learning more about her I understand why she just wanted to be left alone to sit in her chair, pet her dog Shaggy and watch episodes of Jeapardy and He-Haw. When she and grandpa Roskelley lived with us I was only about 4, but I have vivid memories of her. I don't remember what I said, but one time I was playing in the living room and she was in her chair and I said something (probably "stupid" or "shut up") and she called me over to her and in her old senile way slapped me across the face and said, "don't you talk like that!" I was crushed and ran off to my room to cry. I remember the night she died in our home, the bishop coming over and sitting in the hall listening to the adults all talk. I didn't fully understand it. Shortly after she died Laura, Beth and I had to sleep in the same bed she had died in and I was MORTIFIED! I had bad dreams and couldn't get to sleep for months!

Tough

I write a lot of posts about mistakes and strange decisions my dad has made in his life, but he happens to be one of the most resilient, self sacrificing and tough men I have ever known.
Dad began to loose his eye sight when he was about 20 when he first noticed a line in his vision. Over 40 years the line has grown in size to where he has lost all color and central vision. When you see him "looking" at you, it is usually with his peripheral vision, giving the distinct impression he is looking past you. Dad drove until he couldn't pass the eye exam at the DMV then forged Dr's notes until he felt he was unsafe to drive. Never to be held back he has ridden a bike to work, DI, and home depot whenever he needs something. He has bus schedules memorized and is on a first name basis with every worker at DI, Checker, Auto zone, Home depot, Lowes, Johnstone Supply and every wrecking yard from Santiquin to North Lehi. It is very rare when he asks for help and when he does it is because he has tried and just couldn't get it right. I often visit the wood shop to find he has used almost all of my tools including my table saw and chop saw,where he measures something and sets up the saw by "feel". Dad never gives up even if it takes him hours to complete a task.
Dad took an aptitude test in high school and they told him he should become and Engineer. To which he stated, to me, one day " I could look at anything and figure out how to make it better" but later relented and said "I couldn't take the math". Dad found mom and dropped out of BYU 1 semester shy of his bachelors degree... he never went back. I laugh about my childhood because of all the crazy things we went through because we were poor but dad was always working some angle to try to earn more money for our family. I think part of the reason he was so grumpy when we were younger was every time he earned any money we would add another mouth to feed, which would require another scheme to earn more money. Dad sacrificed his 20's, 30's, 40's and 50's to us, trying to get us a decent start in life.
recently I was working with Dad on a railroad tie wall were we were drilling holes through the ties and driving re-bar into the holes. I was trying to work fast because sometimes dad will slow you down trying to help. I was busy drilling holes when I heard the Tap... Tap... of the 5 pound sledge hammer driving a piece of re-bar into the tie. Dad would place his thumb over the top of the re-bar and then tap the hammer on the top to find the center. Dad would then take a bigger swing and about 50% of the time would hit the re-bar and the other 50% would hit his hand. I always let him do what ever he wants to try so I went back to my drilling, when I heard a tap of the hammer then dad say "Crap!" then he pulled his arm into his chest and began to make his customary farting noise with his mouth. I have heard the farting noise a hundred times and I think it usually takes the place of him cussing. I asked "you OK?'. He gathered himself together and said "yes". He picked up the 5 pound sledge and started to hammer again when I saw the blood streaming down the re-bar and pooling on the wooden tie. "I don't think you are OK, let me see your hand" I said. Dad presented his hamburgered Dad had pinched his thumb between the top of the re-bar and the 5# hammer causing a through and through gash that needed stitches. "You probably need to go to the hospital to get that fixed" I said. "No" he said "lets get to work."
I wrapped his thumb and he went back to trying to driving re-bar into the railroad ties.
No excuses, hard work and resiliency= tough.

Radar

Cody Bought Radar from Stuart Gray. He was a German Short hair pointer with a dark brown head and a white body with brown speckles, he had a huge abdominal hernia that never healed over and it took away the sleek look of usual pointers, and the fact that he was lazy.

Cody originally let Radar sleep in his bed, we shared a room and I secretly envied Cody because it was a cool looking dog. Each night radar would jump into Codys bed and snuggle up. radar slept in Codys bed until one morning when Cody woke up with a giant pile of dog pooh sitting next to his body and Radar sleeping at the bottom of the bed. One of the few times I've ever seen Cody loose his temper, Cody let loose a tirade of Mormon swear words, like "stupid dog" and "crapped" at Radar while slapping Radars backside. Cured of any bowel and urinary incontinence in one night Radar tried to get on Codys bed the next night and was met with a slap on his back side. Radar dejected turned to my bed and slept with me for the rest of his life.

Contrary to the temperament of most short haired pointers, Radar spent his life laying around under a desk, eating and farting. His farts had a very distinct smell and could quickly clear a room. At the first smell someone would yell "RADAR!!!" to which everyone would cover their nose to avoid even the first smell.

Dyke had a girl friend, Kristy, who made him a plate of cookies and had put them in his room on his dresser. radar went in and ate the whole plate. Dyke was mad but Kristy was madder, forever after anytime Radar crossed Kristi's path he was always followed by a "Stupid dog"

About a year into having the dog Cody and I began to wrestle on the ground when we felt Radar gently nipping at our heals, the longer we wrestled the more aggressive his nips became. We often wrestled in front of Radar to see who's side he thought he was on. one day while wrestling in the front yard Bill Marek came running across the street and grabbed Cody around the shoulders, then let out a loud yelp, radar had bitten Bill on the butt. Luckily Bill didn't sue us but simply stated "No, No, your dog was doing what he's supposed to... he was protecting you".

At about 1 year old Radar was through puberty and had started to carouse a little so we had talked about having him "fixed".

One day I arrived home from school only to find Radar walking with a limp, he held his back legs as far apart as he could while walking like he had saddle sores. He would walk a few steps, sit down and begin to bite at his testicles. Cody and I held him down to find Radar testicles were twice the size of normal and discolored in swirls of fire engine red and purple. Near the base of his testicles we discovered a rubber band wrapped tightly around cutting off most of the circulation. Cody and I tried to get to his testicles but when we began to try to cut the bands Radar began to growl and snip, so we waited for dad, all the time infuriated for the hate crime someone had committed on our dog.

When dad came home we went to him "Dad, we need your help"

"what for"

Exasperated and disgusted "some one wrapped a rubber band around radars nuts!"

Dad (silence)

We lay radar on my bed and turned him on his back, Dad held Radars mouth closed and held his front paws and Cody and I took turns holding back legs and trying to cut the rubber band with out cutting the engorged tissue that had surrounded the bands.

still infuriated Cody said "who would do this to our dog!"

"... I did" said Dad

Dad being the from a farm had done to Radar what he had done to hundreds of cattle, slap a rubber band on the testicles and watch them shrivel up and fall off, only this time all of the blood supply was not cut off so the tissue continued to swell and engorge. Not only were the testis's not salvageable but the vet had to piece together the surrounding tissue after the necrotic tissue was cut out. It cost us double the amount for the neuter $120 dollars, a monumental amount to me. Radar came out unscathed and within a week was back to his old lazy self.

Plywood rider

Along the side of our house runs and old cement irrigation ditch. A solid 2 feet in diameter with a port that allowed access to control when we could set water on our lawn, and when we could send it down the line to Johnson's farm. we made several attempts at crawling up the cement pipe to see where it led to , but we always turned back when we couldn't see any more, and fear of being attacked by some unseen sewer monster usually turned us around.

We shared the irrigation port with 3 families, The Chamberlains, us and the Bowns. When the Bowns got irrigation we also got irrigation because to get to the Bowns yard the irrigation would have to travel down our irrigation port, across our lawn and through 3 cinder block ports under the fence.

Back then our back yard was lined with a brick and mortar fence on 3 sides that would trap the irrigation water in so that near the back of the yard in between the 2 cherry trees the water would sometimes stand 4-6 inches deep, as close to a swimming pool as we got back then. It was deep enough you could go in the back and lie in the grass and completely submerge your body and float but still easily keep your head above the water. The rest of the yard would be an inch or two deep and was the perfect depth for running and splashing. Friends would come from around the neighborhood to play in our own temporary swamp.

Real activities were in short supply until the summer Dyke made a sled; a piece of ply wood with a rope tied through a hole. The plywood, would easily skim across the water carrying a small rider. A smaller kid would jump on, knees down, and hold onto the rope while a bigger kid would try to spin and throw them off. Once thrown off, your turn was over until all the kids had had their own turn.

One Saturday there must have been 15 kids in our back yard and we were all taking turns. Chad Dyke and Jon Chamberlain were all giving rides to the neighborhood kids when Cody ponied up. Cody for some reason had built himself a little reputation as being particularly hard to throw. This day Cody would not be thrown. First Dyke took his turn spinning and jerking hoping for Cody to flip or let go , but Cody held tight leaning hard on the turns to stop the usually inevitable tumble, Cody didn't fall. Chad then took his turn and couldn't shake Cody. Then Jon Chamberlain, generally thought of as the strongest, took his turn to try and throw Cody off. Jon turned hard whipping Cody around harder than most rides and jerked hoping his hands would jar loose. Finally getting tired Jon sent Cody on a few break neck, clock wise, spins each time getting closer to the pine tree that stood near the back of the yard... and let go... sending Cody sliding underneath the over hanging branches and square into the trunk of the tree. Cody buckled over in pain. The neighborhood kids were in shock as we stood speechless. Jon stood and justified the means to Cody's end. Cody buckled over in pain and cried a little, but as far as I remember never snitched out Jon for running him into the tree.

Cody still retained the title as the best of the plywood riders. Most of the time Cody's turns would end in the puller finally giving up and saying "it's somebody Else's turn, I am tired"

leather shoes

About 4th grade I discovered the shower, a comb and began to see girls in a new light. that was the year the Smiths across the street found "locker room" clothes, which were cheap enough for mom to buy us a few shirts. Payless shoes were still the standard shoes, made with a plastic upper and a hard rubber sole they didn't scream style, in fact because of my new awakening for style I began to be slightly embarrassed about my shoes.

My Payless shoes were worn out and if we were shoe shopping it was because my current shoes had large holes in them. I remember being at the mall and we walked into a shoe store that wasn't Payless. My eyes were opened, They had shoes that were leather and didn't look like a single piece of molded plastic but looked like they would bend and fold with your foot when you walked. Mom had given us a $10 limit for the shoes. I spotted a pair that were the coolest I had ever seen and they looked like they were leather. They were white with red and blue stripes running parallel to the sole and the rubber gripped the ground when I tried to run in them.

$20 was too much to pay for shoes but I had seen the light so I begged which was usually fruitless but I still persisted. Mom being a better negotiator offered this "well your birthday is next month, you could choose to have these for your birthday... if you pay half".

I remember thinking this was a crappy deal but I had begged and didn't feel like I could back down now, so I gave in, "OK" I said. I had money from my paper route and present my $10 cash and we bought the shoes. Cody also liked the shoes and asked if mom would buy him the shoes if he paid half too, mom said "well you do need new shoes" , this is when I realized I had gotten a raw deal and probably where I first realized being a busness man was not for me. Cody got the same deal that I had, but his birthday was one month prior and he had already gotten his presents.

Lawn mower

Chad and Dyke always complained about having to do the hardest work with dad. They were the ones who learned body work on wrecked cars and helped straighten car frames. One job they got out of fairly early in life, though, was mowing the lawn. I may be be exaggerating but I seem to remember being thrust into the lawn mowing spot light at the ripe age of 6 years old. Dad took me out to the front lawn and placed me in front of the BYU reject lawn mower that he had repaired for the millionth time and taught me about keeping the far wheel just this side of the line, so you wouldn't leave any patches of grass unmowed. He then pulled the starter and I stood behind the bar. The upper bar was about shoulder height, and I remember trying to push the top bar but I could only accomplish movement if I was on a down hill slope once I hit level ground or a uphill slope I had to drop my hands to the lower bar and lean with all 45 pounds of muscle, bone and fury to get it to move. The front lawn took what seemed like hours to finish that day. From that day forward Cody and I slowly took over the lawn duties You would think that with Cody and I being the middle children we would have lawn mowing relief only a few years behind, but when Laura asked to mow the lawn, she took her turn and shined!
I think I remember saying something to the effect of "stupid Laura, she can't even mow in a straight line!", thinking dad was going to give her a "whipp'in". Laura took the mower and maneuvered it in a criss cross pattern around the yard. Laura then abandoned her efforts leaving huge patches of uneven lawn. Dad seeing the lawn yelled at me and made me go finish the job.
I now see the genius of Laura's plan, I being the people pleaser that I am tried to make perfect lines and no patches, thus increasing the amount of work required of me. Laura, following little girl Wimsey and fun, had a good time and decreased her work load.

Milk- By Wade

when I was in the 9th grade I played a lot of basketball. Every day after school we would play 2 on 2 basketball with Adam and Abel Smith and Ryan Chappell. Adam told me once that If I drank a lot of milk I would grow taller, having no information to combat this I began drinking a 32oz cup of milk 2 times a day, once in the morning and once at night.
Mom was buying about 10 gallons of milk per week at the time for all 9 of us kids and with me drinking a half gallon per day and the older boys probably drinking as much there always seemed to be a shortage of milk. After several months of a milk shortage Milk suddenly began to appear, which was great because I was going to be 7 feet tall and play in the NBA. I did notice an occasional change in the smell, a kind of a baby formula smell, but taste wasn't affected so I continued my routine. I would drink my 32 oz of milk in the morning and when I came home that night the milk jug would be full again. I would drink my 32 oz of milk at night and the jug would be full by morning, oblivious to this magic jug, I continued to drink out of the jug until the taste began to change and I would abandon my efforts to grow another foot tall until the other kids in the house finished off the old jug and a new one would emerge.
It was years later the older boys let me in on Moms secret; when the milk jug would reach half way, she would fill the rest back up with powdered milk, repeating the process several times with the same jug of milk. This was in an effort to save money as powdered milk was cheaper than real milk. After being cut so many times All the children instinctively knew not to drink it and it would sit...the same jug would stay in the refrigerator until some one would just dump it down the sink when Mom wasn't looking, allowing the process to repeat itself when money got tight again.

My "new" bike - by Tia

I can't remember how old I was excatly but I think I was about 7 or 8. I had saved up my paper route money and finally had enough to buy a new bike at DI. I think I spent $5.00 on it. I remember driving it home so excited that I finally had my own bike! As my dad unloaded it from the back of the car, Beth came running out to see it. She insisted on riding it and though I protested (aka - threw a fit) my Mom told her that she could. She hopped on the bike and pedaled toward the street. As soon as she hit the end of the driveway and rode onto the sharp gravel between it and the street there was a loud "POP" and the tire went flat. Even though she apologized, I was so angry and the tears could not be held back. I remember it took me a few more months to save enough money to buy a new tube and tire.

Surprise party - by Tia

Cody's story reminded me of my own experience with a surprise party. When I was a freshman in high school I decided that I wouldn't have a traditional birthday party - I was in High School and thought I was too cool for it now. However, as my birthday approached I changed my mind. Two days before the fateful day I began calling all of my friends to invite them to come to my house that Friday at 6:00 pm for a party. I don't remember what I was going to do with all of them once they got there, but I invited anyway. Some accepted, some had something else to do and I understood - it was only two days away. Friday came and my best friend Breeanne came over at about 5:30 to help me set up for the party. 6:00 came and went and noone showed up. By 6:20 I started to feel sad and couldn't figure out why not even one person had come. As I sat on my bed in my room feeling sorry for myself Beth came in and told me that she had planned me a surprise birthday party but that it wasn't supposed to start until 7:00 pm and that was the reason everyone was "late". I couldn't believe it! She had gone to all of the work to plan me a party! At 7:00 everyone showed up and we went ice-skating and had a great time. It turned out to be a really great night - thanks Beth.

Tijuana with Grandma & Grandpa Greengo: By Cody

I believe that I was either in the fifth or sixth grade, when Grandpa and Grandma Greengo invited me and Wade to join them on a trip to California. While there, we camped at Dohinni Beach. One day, grandpa and grandma decided that they wanted to go to Tijuana so that grandpa could try to find a saddle for one of his horses, a new purse for grandma, and a stiletto knife for Uncle Gary. Wade and I were excited because we would get to spend some of our hard earned paper route money on something cool. After crossing the border, Grandpa Greengo gave me and Wade some sound advice about negotiating. He told us not to pay attention to the price tag on anything in Tijuana. He also said that we needed to decide how much we were willing to pay for something and then offer the seller less. “Be willing to walk away, if the seller won’t give you the right price,” grandpa counseled.

At the beginning of our shopping spree, I watched grandpa talk to the sellers of various goods. We walked into one shop, and grandpa asked to see the stiletto knives. The merchant asked grandpa if he wanted to see a particular knife, and then grandpa pointed to a knife under the glass counter. The merchant pulled out the stiletto (a stiletto knife has a button on the side that if pushed causes the blade to pop out of the top of the handle) and handed it to grandpa. As grandpa examined the knife, he decided to push the button and the blade only came part way out of the knife. The merchant looked embarrassed as grandpa lowered his eyebrows and said, “This knife is broken”. The merchant took the knife from grandpa’s hand and said, “I’m so sorry, I thought we fix this one. Here try dis one,” and he tried to give grandpa a different knife. To this grandpa replied, “No thanks!” and walked out of the store.

As we went thru the various shops, I had decided that I really wanted a bull whip. Grandpa asked me how much I wanted to pay for one. I said, “I don’t know…$15.” To this grandpa replied, “You don’t want to pay $15. A bull whip is only worth $5. Find someone that will sell you one for $5.” Sounded great to me, so when we went into the next store, I started looking at the bullwhips that were hanging on a rack. I asked the merchant how much he wanted for the bullwhip, and he said, “Twenty fi dollars.” I rolled my eyes, and kind of looked around with an expression of disbelief. I then said, “I can’t pay you twenty five dollars, I only have five dollars.” This time the merchant looked at me in disbelief and said, “I no sell to you for fi dollars. Dis is a great whip of fine ledder.” The merchant then looked at Grandpa Greengo and said, “Granpa why don’t you buy whip for liddle boy. He no have enough muney.” To this grandpa replied, “Oh no, he wants to buys this whip all by himself. To this the merchant replied, “OK I sell you the whip for fiteen dollars.” I again looked up at the merchant and said, “I only have five.” The merchant then said, “OK I sell to you for ten dollar.” To this grandpa looked disgusted and said, “Come one Cody lets go. We will buy you a whip from someone else.” We then started to walk out of the store. Just before we got out of the store, the merchant yelled, “OK, OK I sell to you for fi dollar.” I was so excited that I quickly walked back into the store with grandpa ready to buy my whip. Suddenly I realized that in order to pay the merchant, I would have to pull the stack of paper route money out of my pocket, and I was afraid that he (the merchant) would see that I had a lot more than five dollars. So, I quickly turned my back on him, pulled the money out of my pocket, and retrieved a five dollar bill (I’m sure that the merchant knew what I was doing). I paid for my bull whip and excitedly continued my shopping, knowing that I had just negotiated a great deal.

Later on, grandpa was trying to buy a leather purse for grandma, and he was not going to pay more than $9. I remember at one point, the merchant got so upset with grandpa that he turned to grandma and said, “Grama, why don’t you take gringo home and come back and do some shopping wit da liddle boys.” At hearing this, my jaw must have dropped to the floor. I wondered to myself, “How does he know Grandpa Greengo’s name?”

Last but not least, Wade decided that he wanted to by a cool spoon. We all went into a shop, and Wade picked out a sterling silver spoon. He asked the merchant how much the spoon was, and the man replied, “Twenty fi”. To this Wade replied, “Nope, I will only give you ten.” The man then looked at him and said, “OK I sell for twenty.” To this Wade offered fifteen. Finally the merchant said, “OK fiteen”. Wade reached down in his pocket and pulled out fifteen cents, and put it on the counter. The merchant looked disgusted and pushed the money away, and again said, “No fiteen”. Wade pushed the money back towards the merchants and said, “That is fifteen. See a nickel and a dime.” When grandma saw what was going on, she explained to Wade that the merchant wanted fifteen dollars not fifteen cents. To this Wade said something like, “Fifteen dollars? I’m not paying fifteen dollars for a little spoon!” and we all walked out of the store.

The trip to California was awesome, but my favorite part was shopping in Tijuana.

Surprise B-day Party: By Cody

When I was in the fifth grade, I was very excited about my upcoming b-day party. I had talked to mom about having the party on Friday afternoon after school (the day of my birthday). A few days before my birthday, I was walking with Josh Smith to school and asked him if he could come to my party. Josh gave me a really funny look. He paused like he wasn’t sure what to say, and then he said, “No, I can’t.” Devastated, I looked at him and said, “Why, what are you doing Friday after school?” Josh again paused and said something like, “I don’t know. I just can’t come.” Hearing Josh’s response, I demanded that he tell me why he couldn’t come. Josh squirmed a bit and then said, “Do you promise not to tell anyone? To this I replied, “Yea, I won’t tell anyone.” Josh then said, “Well, your sister Heather is planning a surprise b-day party for you on that same day, but she made me promise not to tell you. Don’t tell her that I told you, or she will get mad at me.” Josh then proceeded to tell me the entire plan for the surprise b-day party, and he made me promise to act surprised at the party. I was so excited! I could not believe that someone had actually planned a surprise b-day party for me. I thanked Josh and then dreamed about my surprised b-day party for the next few days. Finally, Friday afternoon came. Mom told me that she and dad were taking me to Fred Meyers to pick out my b-day gift. Thanks to Josh, I knew this was all part of the plan to get me out of the house, so I gladly went to Fred Meyers and picked out a wide skateboard that had the words “Thriller” written on it. For those of you who don’t remember, “Thriller” was the name of Michael Jackson’s hit song at the time. I knew my friends were going to think that my skateboard was so cool. Sean Smith later stole the skate board from me and then left it at his friend’s house. I insisted on carrying the skateboard out of the store. I was so proud. As we drove home from the store, I could hardly contain my excitement, but I knew that I had to act surprised. When I walked in the front door and then into the family room, all my friends and family yelled, “Surprise!” Once my friends saw my skateboard, they all wanted to go outside and try it. We had a great time watching a movie and riding my skateboard. Thanks to Heather, my fifth b-day will always stand as one of my favorites.

Track Meet: By Cody

As I mentioned before, I often went to watch Laura at her sporting events. I wrote in a different blog entry about the time Laura dedicated a foul line basket to me, and then proceeded to miss the shot. When I mentioned the story to Laura, she reminded me that during the same game, she stole the ball from a member of the opposing team and then did a lay up at the wrong basket. Luckily, she missed that basket, too. Well, on a different occasion, I was watching Laura run a cross country race at Kiwanis Park. Laura was really running well at this particular race. During the race, I stationed myself at different places in the park and cheered for her as she went by. As she came down the home stretch, I cheered her on. As Laura ran passed me, I heard her say, “I’m peeing my pants!” Perplexed, I thought to myself, “Did she really just say that she was peeing her pants?” As Laura crossed the finish line, I watched mom congratulate her. I also watched mom and Laura walk straight to the bathroom. Sure enough, Laura ran so hard during the race that she wet her pants. After that experience, I decided that I would be a really good coach because I knew how to push athletes to their physical limits. Yea right!

Picture Time - by Tia

At the beginning of each new school year my sisters and I would ride our bikes to Pic N Save and use our paper route earnings to purchase a few new outfits for the coming year. The beginning of 3rd grade was no different and with a fresh perm given to me by Trina - I was ready to start!

During the first or second week of school I wore one of my new looks - black stirrup pants, a large red t-shirt gathered by an elastic hair band at the waist and my hair in a half-side-ponytail secured by a sequined elastic arm band (thank's to a recent dance recital costume). I remember going to school and everyone complimenting me on how cute the outfit was. I thought,

"Man, I am really in style!"

So, the next day I wore it again - except this time I didn't get as many compliments. I was a little confused. That afternoon the teacher reminded us that the following day was our class picture day and that we should bring or wear to school the outfit we wanted to be photographed in.

What outfit do you think I wanted to be photographed in?!

The one that had elicited so many compliments of course!

So, now somewhat embarassingly, I wore the SAME OUFIT FOR A THIRD DAY IN A ROW!! Who let me out of the house? Apparently noone in my family noticed and my poor teacher didn't dare say anything. I saw nothing wrong with it (which in and of itself is a problem).

Grandma Greengo - by Tia

I've always remembered Grandma Greengo as being so glamorous and classy. She wore rollers in her hair each day so it would curl perfectly, she dressed well and carried herself with an aire of elegance. I thought she was so beautiful. Looking back, I believe that beauty was especially remarkable considering the great hardships she faced in her life.

I remember when she would come to visit she would offer me all of the change in her coin purse if I would brush her hair. I learned quickly to ask her if I could as soon as she would walk in the door.

There were a couple of times that Laura, Beth and I went up to her house to stay for a few days while off-track. It was so fun (even if I was scared to sleep in the rooms in the basement) and I think it was so great of her to allow us to come and have special attention by her.

When I was in 6th grade I went for a whole week by myself. I had the time of my life - she spent all day paying attention to me and I loved it. We read magazines together, cooked, cleaned, grocery shopped and even went to her dialasis together. As you can imagine, when she died later that same school year, I was heart broken. I remember it was the same time that we were practicing for the school patriotic music program and our class was singing "The Rose" by Bette Midler and during practice I began sobbing and had to be taken to the office to find Mom. When her funeral came I saved one of the dozens of pink carnations that decorated her casket. I hope someday to grow into as beautiful of a woman as she was.