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Added by moodyflute
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  • Story: Elsie's Story

    <p> &lt;iframe src=&quot;http://view.atdmt.com/iaction/ancestrycom_non_secure_universal_v3/v3/atc1.-lib-TinyMce_2_1_0-blank_htm/&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; scrolling=&quot;No&quot; marginheight=&quot;0&quot; marginwidth=&quot;0&quot; topmargin=&quot;0&quot; leftmargin=&quot;0&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt; <!-- SN:TREESUI06 --> <font size="3">I asked Grandma Campbell to make a cassette of her history.&nbsp; This is a transcription of the tape she made, in approximately 1979.</font></p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><font size="3">I don&#39;t know why in the world anybody wants my history.&nbsp; I was born right in the middle of an Indian reservation, one of 11 children to a very poor Mormon family.&nbsp; We were right in the middle of the Unitah Basin in Utah.&nbsp; I think I was number five in the family.&nbsp; Mother and Dad had homesteaded 120 acres of sage brush and greasewood and they built a little old one room log cabin.&nbsp; First thing they lived in a tent but I was born in a log cabin.&nbsp; One room and there were six of us in there, or rather six of us were born there.&nbsp; I don&#39;t remember moving into the big house, but I remember Dad building it, working on it.&nbsp; We used the old house for the granery then.&nbsp; I lived just about a forth of a mile from school.&nbsp; One school house for six grades.&nbsp; Also it was the LDS church.&nbsp; There wasn&#39;t but one family in the whole valley that was anything but LDS.&nbsp; There was one family of Catholics there but they mixed right in with the rest of us.&nbsp; Dad struggled for 25 years to make a living for us.&nbsp; We kids would herd cows out in the lizards and sagebrush and rocks in the summer time, well almost every night after school till it got so cold we couldn&#39;t stand it.&nbsp; We&#39;d have to take the cows and let them see what they could forage in the brush.&nbsp; We had milk cows, maybe a dozen.&nbsp; Had two or three teams of real pretty horses too.&nbsp; Gosh, I remember herding cows out through the brush and cockleburs and things barefoot or with a pair of shoes on.&nbsp; We always wore boys soes, when the soles wore out we would stick a piece of cardboard in the bottom of them and keep right on going.&nbsp; In the winter time it got so cold that we would have as high as four to six feet of snow.&nbsp; We&#39;d walk over the fences to school on the crust of the snow.&nbsp; There was no way on earth of traveling anywhere down there.&nbsp; There wasn&#39;t any kind of roads except dirt and dust six inches deep in the summertime and in the wintertime of course it was mud when there wasn&#39;t snow.&nbsp; We either went by sled or wagon.&nbsp; It was three miles to a post office.&nbsp; Just a little one room building in Cedarview, Utah.&nbsp; The folks used to put one of we girls on the horse, of course we rode bareback.&nbsp; The boys had saddles and saddle horses but we didn&#39;t get to ride them.&nbsp; We would get on a horse and go three miles about once or twice a week to the post office for the mail.&nbsp; I don&#39;t suppose we ever got very much mail but a letter or two from an aunt we had up here in Oregon.&nbsp; We went through the fist six grades there in Cedarview, everybody in the same room.&nbsp; One teacher, but we done pretty well, I guess.&nbsp; We had church on Sunday and Primary on Friday after school.&nbsp; Everybody was there, we didn&#39;t have to round em up to go to Primary.&nbsp; Then when we got into the seventh grade, we rode a bus 12 miles into Roosevelt.&nbsp; In those days there wasn&#39;t much of a bus.&nbsp; There wasn&#39;t any heater, the seats were just 2x12 slabs and there were slivers and pins like there always is with kids.&nbsp; I didn&#39;t go very long because when I was 12 years old Dad moved to Oregon</font></p><p><font size="3">Roy Carruth came to stay with us.&nbsp; His dad whipped him till he left home.&nbsp; He was the same age as my oldest brother.&nbsp; The three of them, Dad, Roy and Roy C. got in a little old model T Ford and traveled to Oregon.&nbsp; They&#39;d heard and read all the letters about all the money that was made up here in Oregon picking apples and working in the fall.&nbsp; Down here there wasn&#39;t five cents to be made with anything.&nbsp; It was hundreds of miles of dirt road to the railroad station and they would trade apples for pigs and pigs for wood and of course we went up on the hill.&nbsp; We was right at the foot of the Blue Mountains.&nbsp; We made two or three trips every fall and took our wagons and went up and got wood for the winter burning.&nbsp; We had sagebrush around for the kindling and then we went up and got Juniper.</font></p><p><font size="3">We lived aobut 20 miles from what they called White Rocks, and the Indians had moved up there with their tepees and we went up there one time when I was about 10 years old to watch a sun dance.&nbsp; Bo those Indians sure did get wild.&nbsp; They used to drive by the house once in a while and come in.&nbsp; My red hair.&nbsp; They&#39;d finger it and finger it and they&#39;d bum bread off Mom.&nbsp; Want to trade beads or leather or something or other they&#39;d made; belts or bridle reins for something to eat.&nbsp; The folks always dickered with em cause you didn&#39;t want em to get mad at you.&nbsp; I remember when we were little kids, we used to get us a wagon hooked up.&nbsp; We&#39;d all get in the thing and we&#39;d have a bucket apiece, maybe a two or three gallon bucket.&nbsp; Mom would go along too and she always had a little baby.&nbsp; I have seen her sit in the shade of the wagon and nurse a youngster while the rest of us, Dad would take the plow and he would plow up one row of potatoes.&nbsp; We walked behind the plow and horse and turn the furrow over and we kids had to go along and kick the potatoes out, pick em up and put em in the bucket and he&#39;d have the wagon parked in the middle of the field and we&#39;d get our bucket full of potatoes and we&#39;d run over and dump it in the wagon.&nbsp; Then we&#39;d have to go back and start where we left off and go on up the row.&nbsp; That&#39;s the way we dug our potatoes.</font></p><p><font size="3">We had an old root cellar, dirt with a bunch of leaves and twigs and stuff across the top of it and then dirt on top of them.&nbsp; That was the root cellar.&nbsp; There weren&#39;t no steps down in there, just a door that kinda shut down over it to keep the rain and the wind and snow out in the wintertime.&nbsp; We used to fill that thing full of potatoes in the fall and the folks always raised a great big patch of squash.&nbsp; I don&#39;t know why.&nbsp; I have never liked squash nor neigher did they very much.&nbsp; Mom used to make a lot of squash pies.&nbsp; We rolled those great&nbsp; big old squash, all that we could possibly move to save our life, into this little root cellar.&nbsp; The folks never planted cabbage or a lot of other things.&nbsp; They did have carrots for a short time in the fall, but they didn&#39;t last long.&nbsp; Dad always put a bunch of straw down in there.&nbsp; In those days they had a threshing machine and a stack of straw out by the corral or stockyard they called it as big as a house.&nbsp; We used to get on that thing.&nbsp; it was slick and we would slide till we would get straw up our noses and in our ears and our hair would be just full.&nbsp; We had lots of fun.&nbsp; They had a pole fence around hte corral.&nbsp; These poles were made out of juniper logs hewed out with an axe.&nbsp; They didn&#39;t have anything to saw them with.&nbsp; We used to go down there and walk along the pole fences.&nbsp; Of course we&#39;d fall off occasionally into the calf pen and into the stockyard and whatnot, but we used to spend a lot of time down there and in the back of the granery.&nbsp; Dad put a couple of bins in there and made a place for wheat on one side and cats on the other.&nbsp; That&#39;s were he stored his grain in the fall.&nbsp; There were mice in there but we had quite a deal there.&nbsp; I remember one time Dad filled one of those bins full of apples.&nbsp; A fellow came in from Idaho with a truckload of apples.&nbsp; We didn&#39;t have any money, but we had half a dozen weiner pigs.&nbsp; There must have been six or eight in the pig pen and Dad traded those pigs for this truckload of apples and you know every kid in the valley used to leave school and come home with us an evening to get an apple or two.&nbsp; We fed that whole community.&nbsp; There wasn&#39;t over 25 or 30 kids in the whole school though.&nbsp; We each had two or three friends and there was three or four kids in a grade and that was it.</font></p>

 
 
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