Cars We Have Owned

When Jim and Shawn were here a year or two ago, we sat down and listed the cars we have owned. Jim was shocked that his list would be much longer than ours! It helps that our two fourteen-year-old cars are still considered "new" to us, and that Jay's Prius, which is now Will's was driven 320,000 miles when we gave it to him five years ago!

Provo:

Blue Maverick 1970 new! $1,900. Traded in for Matador. After having a hand-me down gold colored Schwinn bike as a family car, it was a very big deal to have our own four wheels.

Arizona: 

Wood/white 1974-78 AMC Matador station wagon, Dealer car in Phoenix. Accident in Mississippi totaled it.

Mississippi: 

Blue Voyager Plymouth van 1977. Bought in New Orleans, Dealer car. We shipped this car to the PI and back. Jay put a shelf over the wheel wells to create luggage space below and a play area above. Road trips became wonderful with the ability to move around and every seat was a "best seat." It had bucket seats in front and two bench seats and a large area in back. Seat belts were optional back then and I loved the freedom the van gave our family. A seat belt would have saved Galen from a broken  arm on a trip to Mobile, Alabama when a sudden stop sent him onto the engine cowling. When Jay was on the IG Team and spent weeks and months TDY (consult a military acronym dictionary), the van became less loved. When he was gone, I became the driver that had to remove the cowling to put my finger into the carburetor to get the car started when it stalled at stoplights and other inconvenient places. I think this is when I perfected my use of some colorful words. We traded this van in for the Vandura in Illinois.

Blue Datsun "Donkey Car" 1960's? Bought from Marvin Olsen in 1978. Sold to someone in Biloxi. This car had a chrome donkey on its hood with eyes that lit up. How did we ever let this car go?!!

Philippines:

Blue Corolla station wagon right-hand drive. Bought from another officer at Clark We left this car in the Philippines after 3 years. The kids loved sitting in the "driver's seat" on the left and freaking out other drivers. Sold when we moved back to USA.

Illinois:

 Tan Saab 1984, bought used for $2,000 from someone at Scott AB. The heated seats were a new feature, but malfunctioned. Summer warm buns: no bueno! Disconnected! Gave to Shawn when we moved to Utah.

Red Honda Civic 1986 new! After Phil's mission, he drove it until it was wrecked in an accident in about 2002 in Utah.

Blue GMC Vandura van 1989. Bought during chemotherapy and the smell of this car always made me feel nauseous. This van had velvet and window curtains and wood trim and was really a decorated piece of junk. The seats eventually rocked, the arm-rests were wobbly, the curtains sagged. When we went through a carwash flakes of blue and gray paint ran down the windshield. One day at a principal's meeting, I looked around the parking lot and thought, "I have the oldest, worst vehicle of any on the road." Sadly, it was about the truth. Will and his friends enjoyed it for a time before we gave to Paul's sister, Jan, in about 2000.

Utah: 

Red Chevy Nova, bought from Dad (Ross Sargent) for $1,000 in 1994. Wrecked in Salina after a Bagley Reunion in Koosharem about 1995. When the car was totalled, we received $1,000 for the salvage. The word nova in Spanish would mean no-go, or doesn't go, which was not accurate for this really good little car. We hated to lose it.

Green Ford Explorer, 1994-ish model bought used in about 1998 from David Klomp for $16,000. We enjoyed leather seats for the first time and other nice features. We gave to Paul's sister in about 2012.

Gray Mustang, 1986, $500 from Jim Shurtz, first for JuliAnne, then Galen, then Will and finally donated to charity. I'll never forget teaching Galen to drive a stick shift in the Mustang--in about 15 minutes--and then expecting him to drive to Kaysville. All went well until the turn from Highway 89 onto Crestwood; having to stop on a hill with lots of traffic was so scary. I can't remember if we did the Chinese Fire Drill to change drivers so I could get us home, but somehow we escaped death yet again. The name "Mustang" usually means a sort-of hot-rod car. This was anything but. No air conditioning, no get-up-and-go. Nothing. But Jay said over and over, "It gets good gas mileage!"

Black Chevrolet S10 pickup, bequeathed to Jay after his death in 2002 by Ross Sargent. Jay drove it from Kaysville to Tooele to work until 2005, when it was donated to charity. It really was on its last gasp when Jay finally gave up on it and got the Prius.

Gold 2005 Toyota Prius (new) $27,000 ordered before picking up Will from his mission. This was one of the first hybrid electric/gas cars and Jay was forever bragging about getting 50 mpg in it. It was surprisingly roomy and plenty powerful: a dependable car for the 150 mile round trip Jay made to work four or five days a week. He had a coyote strike and some other wildlife encounters (bunnies, birds) but was amazingly incident-free in all those miles.
     
Black Mini-Cooper 2004, bought used in 2005 from a friend of Wayne's in Bremerton for $19,000. JuliaAnne and I flew to Seattle where Amanda picked us up and took us to Wayne and Phylis' house. We stayed overnight and drove back to Utah between Christmas and New Years. On that drive, everytime we returned to the car after getting out, we would giggle at how small and cute it was. It was fun to putt-putt past all the semis stopping to chain up on the mountain passes. My worries about how it would handle in the snow were put to rest on that first drive. Once coming home from the cabin, I saw a deer heading off the hill toward me just as I hit it (or did it hit me?). It bounced off the passenger-side hood and I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't even think of the poor deer, I was so relieved my little Sacajawea Mini was still driveable. I did stop in Salt Lake at Mini of Murray where Jay picked me up and their repair folks took over the car.

Red Tundra pickup 2005, bought used in 2012 for $15,000. Funny story: I was at a principal's conference at Zermatt in Midway. My friends asked if we wanted to go with them out to eat. I said I was tired and going to stay in the hotel and have a massage. The next day, they asked about my massage. I said, "It was too expensive so we went to Salt Lake and bought a truck." We needed a vehicle to take luggage to the Sargent family reunion at Fort Worden and were going to rent a 15 passenger van but it wouldn't hold enough luggage. Coming back from a trip to Sedona with Annie's family, when we were within 10 miles of the cabin, we hit a deer. We managed to get home before losing all the liquids required for driving, and a tow truck took it to Cedar for repair. Seeing that poor deer with his legs windmilling around after the impact was disturbing.

I really should mention the "Christmas Tree," our mission car, a red Ford minivan we drove in Chile. It belonged to the Farmland Reserve, and we filled it up with gas from pumps on the farm. We took many people to church and church activities in this good dependable van, including one woman living in essentially a trash heap, who inadvertently gave us a rat that died on the engine block. Some time later the dead rat aroma alerted us that all was not well. One of the maintenance men figured out where that smell was coming from and removed it, with plenty of gagging and retching. We paid him well (in cookies) in appreciation. This van's nickname came from the emergency dashboard lights of many colors that would not turn off despite there being nothing wrong. I complained to Jay that the headlights, though seemed awfully dim. He thought they were okay, but when we gave a friend, Pancho Cortes, I think, a ride at night and he turned on his flashlight and shined it out the front window saying, "Look, my flashlight is brighter than your headlights!" Jay became a believer and replaced them. We put 40,000 miles on that van in 18 months, Jay driving almost every one of them. I did help Yoyo practice driving on the farm roads from time to time, but mostly sat in the front passenger seat knitting to keep from panicking when oncoming traffic was speeding toward us in our lane or seeing the missionaries on bikes competing with truckloads of pigs and semis full of produce.


Fifteen cars in 50 years, not bad! But I was surprised to see that we had three cars totaled in wrecks! How lucky that none of them resulted in injury or worse. Jay's good maintenance has allowed us to keep our cars running and dependable for many years.

Provo
Blue 1970 Maverick new! $1,900
Provo
Blue 1970 Maverick new! $1,900

Arizona
Wood/white '74-78 AMC Matador s/w 
Dealer car 

Mississippi
Blue Voyager Plymouth van 1978- 89 dealer car

Philippines
Blue Corolla s/w right-hand drive-- left in Philippines

Illinois
Tan Saab 1984 $2,000
Red Honda Civic 1986 (new) $
Blue GMC Vandura van 1989

Utah
Red Chevy Nova $1,000 from Dad
Green Ford Explorer $16,000
Gray Mustang (kids) $500?
Black Chevrolet S10 pick up gift--Dad
Gold 2005 Toyota Prius (new) $27,000

Black 2004 Mini Cooper (2008) $19,000
Red 2005 Toyota Tundra pickup (2012) $15,000

rizona
Wood/white '74-78 AMC Matador s/w ProvoBlue 1970 Maverick new! $1,900

Arizona
Wood/white '74-78 AMC Matador s/w 
Dealer car 

Mississippi
Blue Voyager Plymouth van 1978- 89 dealer car

Philippines
Blue Corolla s/w right-hand drive-- left in Philippines

Illinois
Tan Saab 1984 $2,000
Red Honda Civic 1986 (new) $
Blue GMC Vandura van 1989

Utah
Red Chevy Nova $1,000 from Dad
Green Ford Explorer $16,000
Gray Mustang (kids) $500?
Black Chevrolet S10 pick up gift--Dad
Gold 2005 Toyota Prius (new) $27,000

Black 2004 Mini Cooper (2008) $19,000
Red 2005 Toyota Tundra pickup (2012) $15,000

ealer car 

Mississippi
Blue Voyager Plymouth van 1978- 89 dealer car

Philippines
Blue Corolla s/w right-hand drive-- left in Philippines

Illinois
Tan Saab 1984 $2,000
Red Honda Civic 1986 (new) $
Blue GMC Vandura van 1989

Utah
Red Chevy Nova $1,000 from Dad
Green Ford Explorer $16,000
Gray Mustang (kids) $500?
Black Chevrolet S10 pick up gift--Dad
Gold 2005 Toyota Prius (new) $27,000

Black 2004 Mini Cooper (2008) $19,000
Red 2005 Toyota Tundra pickup (2012) $15,000

Blue 1970 Maverick new! $1,900

Arizona
Wood/white '74-78 AMC Matador s/w 
Dealer car 

Mississippi
Blue Voyager Plymouth van 1978- 89 dealer car

Philippines
Blue Corolla s/w right-hand drive-- left in Philippines

Illinois
Tan Saab 1984 $2,000
Red Honda Civic 1986 (new) $
Blue GMC Vandura van 1989

Utah
Red Chevy Nova $1,000 from Dad
Green Ford Explorer $16,000
Gray Mustang (kids) $500?
Black Chevrolet S10 pick up gift--Dad
Gold 2005 Toyota Prius (new) $27,000

Black 2004 Mini Cooper (2008) $19,000
Red 2005 Toyota Tundra pickup (2012) $15,000

Daylight Savings Time

I wrote this the Monday after the end of Daylight Savings Time. Still true.

I woke up this morning at our cabin in Southern Utah on the second day of normal time. I’ve always said I didn’t care which time we were going by— just choose one and stick with it—but this morning revealed a preference.

At the first hint of light this morning I checked the time. Six a.m. Sleep no longer possible, I thought of last night. It had been pitch dark for several hours when we arrived and unloaded the truck. Going to bed immediately felt right and so we did. Eight hours later, fully restored and with a new day ahead of us, I realize THIS, not Daylight Savings Time is how it should remain.

We’ve had some weird experiences with the custom of DST. Once, quite unexpectedly, when we were living in the Philippines, President Marcos declared a change of time. DST would be standard throughout the archipelago country. There was a communication problem, however, and for a number of weeks, few citizens knew about it. In a country where punctuality was not regarded as critical, not much changed. For the community of Americans that we belonged to, it was one more irritation that  added to a growing sense of being driven insane. “What the heck time is it!?!”

In Chile, with our family neatly tucked into two USA time zones, it should have been easy to figure out the time differences between us. And it was—for about three months. When Chilean otoño, or autumn, arrived in March, time went funky on us. We fell backward, our kids sprang forward and what should have been a three hour difference, now became a two, a four, a five hour difference—depending on who was on, who was off and which day—- or whether— they decided to switch times. One year they chose not to go back to Standard Time. If I thought my dysmappia was bad, dystimea made it look like a walk in the park!

Enough! Bring out your world globe. Slice it up into those lovely longitudinal lines; enough for a twenty- four hour day. Stick with Greenwich, England as the starting point. Assign a time to each of the slices. Make Utah 7:24 right now. Proceed forward, not changing a thing. Summer will give you those extra hours you want all by itself. Winter will draw you hearthside without your having to mess with any clocks. Carry on.

Frowsy and Hair Woes

When I was a little girl, Mom called unkempt hair, "frowsy." We'd be sent back in the house to take care of our frowsy hair, or she would say that her abundantly curly hair was frowsy.

I can't begin to demonstrate the extent of my frowsy history because these are photos that I have relegated to the trash without anyone seeing them, but here are some that survived the cut:

I started out with little hair at all, and after Suzanne's baby head-full of beautiful dark hair, that must have been a disappointment to my parents, but eventually I had white curls and was nicknamed, "Blondie," by Grandpa Sargent. And Blondie I was until puberty darkened and coarsened my hair to wiry waves. After a childhood of ponytails I resigned myself to short hair since the alternative was bushwoman, and there I would still be if not for chemotherapy and baldness.

Following chemotherapy, I was just happy to have hair

After a disastrous haircut in Chile (apparently "un poco" could mean, "I only want a little hair," when I intended it to mean, "Just take a little off), I vowed to find a haircutter on my return to the US who understood curly hair and who could make me look decent. I had the appointment before we left Chile.

Curly Hair Lessons were a revelation. "What? I can't wash my hair every day?!" "What? I shouldn't be brushing my hair?!" "What? I can't use just any old shampoo?!" "What?! I use an old t-shirt to blot my hair dry and not a towel?!" "What? I need products?!" "A diffuser?!" Weirdest of all, they don't cut wet hair by pulling sections away from the head and then cutting it geometrically--no, they just snip away at it when it's dry, like trimming a hedge. Yes, I am a bush woman.

I threw away my hairbrush and have had neither brush nor comb in my hair for a year and a half. Grandma Hattie bragged about her wash-and-wear hair. Now I've got it. I can't say I always look good, but when I don't it's because I totally forget my hair and that it needs an occasional cut.

Sticking out like a sore thumb

I had a surgery date several years ago but was advised to get a second opinion. Doctor Number Two suggested waiting until I really needed it, but just to be sure I really had the condition that would necessitate surgery, he wrenched my thumb into a position he called "the grind test." Yow!!! Yup.

Now it's time. I not only have serious base of the thumb arthritis, aggravated, I'm sure by non-stop knitting for several years, I also have a trigger finger--er, thumb. When you can't open jars, or doors, can't button a blouse and have to keep "un-cocking" your thumb with a pop, it's probably time. I returned to Doctor Number Two, who took one look and sent me to the surgery scheduler. I warned him not to repeat the grind test. I inadvertently perform it on a daily basis.

I knew that my hand would be out of commission for weeks, if not months, so Jay and I climbed some rock outcroppings above Ogden by way of a via ferrata the day before my scheduled surgery. A via ferrata is a set of rebar steps you climb wearing a harness and clipping onto a cable with a carabiner as you ascend to the top. It was great fun and exhilarating to feel like a real rock climber and I felt ready to tackle recovery from a pretty small surgery.

Five months later

Surgery. Cast. Cast off. Splint on. Splint off. No knitting. Three months pass without being able to button, open lids, turn doorknobs, clip fingernails. Now, why did I do this again? My hand looks deformed and it still hurts. Advil pm is my friend, and even walking across the yard was exhausting for the first few months. They say this is a surgery that you're glad you had a year later. It might take me that long! I guess you can't have a joint taken out and replaced by a tendon and have it all better right away, but I thought I was tougher than this. So what started out as a painful thumb that didn't work is now a weak thumb that still hurts occasionally. And it still sticks out like a sore thumb.

Don't make me stop hugging

Abrazos!

I'm having a six-week stint as principal of Jennie P. Stewart again, replacing a principal who is off opening another new school--just as I left to open Snow Horse nine years ago. Some of the parents and teachers are the same; none of the children are, but the place is still filled with love and lovable children, and teachers who need to know that what they do is noticed and appreciated.

It's weird being in the role of jefe but without evaluative nor planning responsibilities. God must have known I'd need help in my goal to be present in my life. Each day, I have that day, just that one day. The little incidents, celebrations, meetings and opportunities that come up that need a principal-- those are what I'm there for. It's surprising what a variety of issues I've already dealt with, in just a month. This job doesn't go on hold just because the usual person isn't in the office.

Teachers reported some vulgar sex-talk on the playground. I've learned to take it to the parents before confronting the children, and in doing so, this time, opened a can of worms that was good to open, but will be life changing for this family. It turns out that the older (both adopted) brother has been molesting the fifth-grader and the night I called the parent--and they learned about the abuse--police were called and the boy removed from the home. Is it any wonder the child was and is still acting out?

I met a different boy on Day One. He was introduced as the school's trouble maker. I'll call him Hank. He's been through two mothers to death--at a fairly young age, as I understand, and is driving the office staff and his teachers crazy with his behavior. Any change is upsetting to him, and field trips have been particularly rough. He was forbidden to ever return to the Ogden Nature Center this year, so the policy has been that he has to have his dad along on any subsequent field trip. On Monday, the second-grade was going to Pioneer Village at Lagoon and dad was just married on Friday. Surely, he wouldn't be going on Hank's field trip! I told the teacher that I thought it was important to let Hank attend and if I had to, I'd go and hold his hand at Lagoon. The bell rang and the teacher said, "You won't have to go. Hank's dad's new wife is going with him!" I walked out to the bus where people were waiting to get on and said, "Hank! Who do you have with you?" "It's my MOM!!" Does this woman have any idea how important she is to all of us? Later Hank told the psychologist when she asked about his new mom, "She's the most beautiful woman in the whole world!"

And then there's the hatchet in the backpack. "You forgot it was in there?!" You could hardly zip the thing. I told the boy, "It's mine until your parents come to get it." It apparently is still mine.

The millions of ice bags and band-aids every recess--lines of children needing first aid. I got on the intercom before one recess and said, "New policy: bandaids for blood and blisters. Ice for bad bumps and bruises. Hugs for everything else." I think it's slowed the traffic to the office, but an interesting thing happened. A teacher told me that after I made that announcement, one student said, "She's so nice!" The teacher, puzzled, said to me, "You just told them don't come to the office for bandaids and ice and what they heard was you would hug them." I will, too!

I'm trying to hug the teachers, too, with encouraging notes, cinnamon rolls and various kinds of "atta-boys" in these last weeks of school. I'm really loving the time I have to do this and am grateful for the opportunity. Tomorrow, I've been asked to speak to the first-year principals at their last Rookie Rap. I did it a few years ago--read stories from my principal journal, and I get to have a repeat performance. I'm looking forward to telling my "little shit" and other stories. I may tell that one here, another day.

Winter Adventures

 Shawn and Jay panorama, snowshoeing in the Uintas

Grand Canyon panorama South Kaibab Trail

Zion panorama from Observation Point

Jay and Rafael at Bryce Canyon

Chains and snow on Angels' Landing

Snowshoeing at the cabin

Selfie on the trail to Phantom Ranch

 JuliaAnne and Owen at the Provo Temple Open House

 Observing Zion at Observation Point

Shawn snowshoeing from the Mirror Lake Highway

No words!

Books! Paper versus everything else

Retirement has many perks, but freedom to read from sunup to sundown is high on the list.

During the Great Clean Up after our Chile sojourn, I rid the house and garage of tons of books. I was heartless. I've experienced just a bit of heartburn since over some volumes that went to Deseret Industries, but generally the switch to digital has been painless and freeing. I've downloaded books while listening to the radio in the car, at church and during casual conversations when a book is recommended. When I travel I can have books in progress and back-up books handy in my purse without any extra weight. The advantages of e-books are many, but there are still reasons that keep me adding books to the shelves.

One is the ability to share an actual hardbound book. Passing around a favorite book gives such pleasure; the prelude to a delayed conversation we will have when the book is returned.

Some books just cry out to be in paper: books with maps, books with photographs, books of poetry. Graphic novels, though it isn't a genre that particularly appeals to me. Picture books--can you imagine a Caldecott Book on the Kindle? Inscribed books, autographed books. Handsome books of family history that need a special shelf of their own. Scriptures.

Yes, scriptures. I'm trying to use the digital scriptures, and see good reason to do so. The highlights, notes and tags that I enter can follow me from device to device to infinity and beyond, once I figure out how it all works. But it's not the same to see a little box in the margin that I must click to find out what I said the last time through. With my "real" scriptures, I can draw and write in the margins and read those insights right along with the printed text--and in color! I downloaded and had a wide-margin Book of Mormon printed and bound that I am having a good time with as I study because there's plenty of space for notes, drawings and ideas.

Journals. I have the Day One app, and enjoy how easy it is to add a photo to the day's entry, and the way it can include the weather and location along with whatever I decide to write. I do, though, also keep a "real" journal, hard-bound and hand-written. As sporadic as I am about writing, it's one way of being accountable for my life, and I like being able to glue and tape or create a rubbing, or smear a purple flower on the page as I see fit. These books will remain when digital is lost in the ether.

So, what's the answer? Like almost everything, I can see both sides and I want it both ways. Digital? Paper? Yes, please.